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melagnes · 2 months

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PECSA Weekend: One Bed

Synopsis: You are a teacher at Abbott Elementary and Barb knows Melissa has feelings for you. During PECSA weekend, Barb, being sick of the both of you avoiding your feelings for each other, only booked two hotel rooms, leaving you and Mel to share. It is just your luck that there was only one bed...

Pairing: Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Word Count: 2.8K

It had been a regular day at Abbott Elementary; a lovely blend of chaos, humour, and heartwarming moments. You had gotten to school an hour early that day, which left you with the much-needed time to prep your classroom for your students, and most importantly, brew a cup of coffee.

Upon entering the breakroom, you noticed that you weren't the only one who arrived early–Melissa's gaze turned away from the news on the television and focused on you. "Ey, Good Morning early bird. How's it going?" she greeted.

"It will be much better when I wake up with some caffeine. How about you?" you replied.

"Ah, you know Tesoro, I'm feeling quite good but maybe it's the anticipation of seeing you."

You blushed profusely–Melissa never failed to make you blush. The attraction you had for her was so strong, she was always on your mind. Contrary to your belief, but obvious to every single teacher at Abbott, Melissa felt the same about you. She loved to make you blush every chance she got. However, Mel had no idea you felt the same way about her, so she just playfully flirted with you; she didn't push any further since she didn't want to ruin your existing friendship.

"Mel, you're such a sweetheart. I hate to cut this short, but I need to head back to my class and prepare for my students. I'll catch you later at lunch," you said, as you left the room with the biggest smile and your cheeks still pink and warm.

As the weekend approached, anticipation buzzed through the halls of Abbott Elementary–the excitement for PECSA weekend was immense. The annual Pennsylvania Educational Conference for the Southeast Area was a time for teachers to come together to discuss their teaching, but truly, veteran teachers Barbara and Melissa were looking forward to the Math-a-ritas.

However, this year was different. Barbara knew you and Melissa were both whipped out of your minds for each other, and this predicament was quite frankly getting on her nerves. She knew she needed to intervene since the two of you would not get your heads out of your asses.

In the breakroom, the three of you were sitting in your usual places for lunch; Barb beside Mel, and you next to Mel, naturally.

"Well, is everyone excited for PECSA weekend?" Barb asks, humming in excitement.

"Of course," you state with a smile.

Barbara directed her attention towards you, "Which got me thinking... Maybe you should join us? It would be a shame to miss out on all the fun together."

"Oh, uh, I don't know..." you glance toward Melissa, a hint of uncertainty in your expression.

"I'd love to have you join us, Piccola. It'll be fun," Melissa adds.

"As long as I wouldn't be intruding," you reply hesitantly.

"Oh, trust me, you wouldn't be intruding at all! We'd be thrilled to have you join us. It's gonna be a blast, and the more, the merrier, right?" Barbara reassures you, "Plus, I've got a feeling Melissa would be thrilled to have you there."

As Barbara finished her sentence, Melissa shot her a playful scowl, her cheeks flushing slightly.

You couldn't help but grin at Melissa's reaction, feeling a flutter of excitement in your chest at the thought of spending more time with her outside of school. "Well, if Melissa insists, who am I to refuse?" you say with a playful wink.

Melissa rolled her eyes, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her true feelings.

Barbara knowingly chuckles at the exchange, pleased with herself for putting the beginning stages of her plan in motion. "Great! It's settled then. PECSA weekend, here we come!"

The weekend has commenced and you found yourself packed and ready to go, excitement bubbling in your chest. When you heard a knock at your front door indicating Melissa's arrival to pick you up, you couldn't shake the nervous anticipation that swirled within you. The prospect of spending the weekend with Melissa was both exhilarating and nerve-wracking.

When you opened the door, your breath caught in your throat, "Hey Mel." It was a reflex; whenever you saw her, her mere presence always left you momentarily speechless.

"Ya ready to hit the road?" she asked, her smile infectious.

"Absolutely, thanks for picking me up," you state gratefully.

After you put your bag in the trunk and crawled into the back seat of the car, your voyage to PECSA commenced. The atmosphere was relaxed as Melissa took the wheel, with Barb in the passenger seat beside her. Without much time at all, the two of them fell into their all too recognizable banter.

Sensing the opportunity, Barbara leaned back in her seat with a glint in her eye. "You know," she began, her voice laced with humour, "I suggest that you all drop your vices and take a hit of my drug of choice — J.E.S.U.S. Street name: Christ" she exclaims.

Melissa raised an eyebrow, feigning offence. "Uh, you've been known to demolish those little bottles of Chardonnay."

"And you snort that liquid marijuana." Barbara countered.

Their teasing sent you into a choke of laughter. Although amusing, their witty remarks settled a familiar ambiance you all appreciated.

As you sank deeper into the back seat, you found yourself stealing glances at Mel in the rearview mirror, unable to resist admiring her effortless beauty. It is unfair that one could look as good as Mel, while simply operating a motor vehicle.

Once you reached the hotel and the car was parked, you and Melissa unloaded the luggage, while Barbara went to the front desk to get your room keys.

When you walk into the hotel, you are met with a concerned-looking Barb, "It seems there's been a mix-up regarding the number of rooms booked, and unfortunately, there are only two rooms available."

In reality, this mix-up was not an accident–it was part of Barb's master plan to push you and Mel beyond the boundary of friendship. "Apologies for the mix-up, everyone. Now, how should we-"

"We can share," Melissa cuts her off while linking arms with you.

You felt your cheeks flush with heat as you exchanged a nervous glance with Melissa. "Yeah, of course."

"Perfect, it's settled then," Barbara handed you the room key and winked knowingly at the two of you before heading off to her room, leaving you and Melissa standing awkwardly in the hallway.

Taking a deep breath, you turned to Melissa with a hesitant smile. "So, I guess we're roommates for the weekend."

Melissa returned your smile, her expression softening. "Yeah, looks like it. Should be interesting."

As your shoulders lightly brushed against each other, you both navigated the hallway, tracing the numbered signs until your room came into view.

As you both stepped into the hotel room, a peculiar realization dawned upon you–there was only one bed. Your heart quickened as your gaze involuntarily shifted towards Melissa.

"So, uh, any preferences on who gets the bed?" you asked, attempting to ease the tension that hung in the air.

Melissa responded with a nonchalant shrug, "Well, there's only one, so I guess we'll have to share. No one wants to sleep on the floor, right?"

Your heart skipped a beat at her words, but you tried to play it cool. "Right, makes sense."

You were doomed.

Melissa broke the silence with a suggestion, "How about we head down to the pool and grab some drinks?"

"I'm in," you replied without hesitation. You knew a drink would be necessary to steady your nerves, especially with the prospect of sharing a bed with the woman you were in love with.

As you descended to the poolside, Barb was already there, greeting you both with a playful smirk adorning her lips. "Well, well, well, look who finally decided to join the party," she teased, raising an eyebrow at the two of you.

After taking a seat beside Barbara, a server approached with a tray of drinks. Melissa swiftly snagged a couple of Math-a-ritas, passing one to you with a wink.

"Here's to PECSA weekend," she declared, raising her glass in a toast.

You clinked your drink against hers, a grin spreading across your face. "To PECSA weekend."

After a couple of drinks in your system, tearing your eyes away from Melissa became an increasingly grueling task. Bathed in the golden hue of the sun, she seemed to exude an otherworldly allure, her features accentuated by the gentle light.

It was as if every glance only served to deepen the spell she unknowingly cast upon you. From the delicate way she brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear, to the infectious sound of her laughter, each moment spent in her presence seemed to send you further into the depths of your emotions. Melissa was more than just attractive; she was captivating, a force that left you unable to break free from the mesmerizing hold she had over you.

"Hey, you okay?" Mel asked, shaking you out of your trance with a hint of concern in her voice as she noticed your distant expression. She had caught you staring.

"Yeah, sorry about that," you replied, offering her a sheepish smile. "Just lost in thought for a moment."

Melissa grinned, her eyes laced with amusement. "Must have been some pretty deep thoughts," she teased, giving you a playful nudge.

You chuckled, as you felt a flush of embarrassment creep onto your cheeks. "Just admiring the view," you said, gesturing vaguely to the poolside surroundings.

Her laughter rang out, a melodic sound that filled the air. "Well, I can't say I blame you."

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of laughter and conversation between the three of you, but eventually, the time came for you and Melissa to retire to your shared room for the evening.

After preparing for bed, you found yourselves lying side by side under the covers, a palpable tension hanging in the air. Despite the deepening connection between you, there was an unspoken understanding that crossing certain boundaries could jeopardize the precious bond you shared.

Something unbeknownst to you, however, beneath Melissa's tough exterior lay a secret longing for intimacy–a desire to break down the barriers between you and bask in the comfort of your embrace.

To your surprise, as you lay there, you felt Melissa's arm snake around your waist. This caused you to immediately tense up, your heart pounding in your ears as conflicting emotions engulfed you. On one hand, you've always wanted this—longed for the closeness and affection that Melissa's touch promised. But on the other hand, her unexpected move left you feeling confused and uncertain.

As Melissa's warmth seeped into your skin, you couldn't help but wonder about the implications of her actions. Was Mel attracted to you? Or was this simply a gesture of platonic affection? The questions floated in your mind, but before you could voice your thoughts, Melissa shifted closer, her breath ghosting over your ear as she whispered softly, "Is this okay?"

Her words send a shiver down your spine, the tenderness in her voice melted away your doubts and fears. With a hesitant nod and a whispered "yes," you surrendered to her embrace, gently placing your hand atop hers, allowing the warmth and intimacy of the moment to envelop you.

As the night wore on, neither of you could sleep, your feelings occupying your minds and you couldn't take it anymore, in a moment of recklessness, you turned towards Mel so your chests were pressed against each other and your eyes locked. Your breath hitched as you lowered your gaze to her lips, savouring the sight of their softness, their allure drawing you in. When your eyes flick back to meet hers, you're met with dilated pupils, a silent invitation that ignited a firestorm of desire within you.

With a trembling hand, you slowly tangled your fingers into her fiery red hair, relishing the silky texture beneath your touch. Your heart pounded in your ears, the anticipation reaching a peak as you guided your mouths together with a hunger that bordered on desperation.

Melissa tensed at the suddenness of your action, and for a split second, you feared you'd made a mistake.

"Mel, I-I'm so sorry, I didn't mean-" But before you could apologize, she surprised you by pulling you back to her lips with an urgency that matched your own. The kiss was warm and passionate. And as you lost yourself in the intoxicating taste of her lips, you realized that this is where you were always meant to be—wrapped in her arms.

"I've been wanting to do that for so long," Melissa confessed after you broke apart, her voice barely above a whisper.

You couldn't help but smile, the weight of her words lifting a burden from your shoulders. "Me too," you admitted, your heart overflowing with emotion.

And as you lay together, wrapped in each other's embrace, you knew that this was just the beginning of a love that would last a lifetime.

The morning light filtered delicately through the curtains, casting a soft glow upon the tangled sheets where you and Melissa lay intertwined. With a contented sigh, you shifted closer to her, savouring the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest against yours. As if stirred by your movement, her eyes fluttered open.

"Good morning," you whispered softly, brushing a stray strand of auburn hair behind her ear.

"Morning," Mel murmured, her voice husky with sleep as she tightened her embrace around you.

For a fleeting moment, you lay there basking in the intimacy of the morning, the outside world fading into insignificance.

"I could stay like this forever," Mel confessed softly, her breath warm against your neck.

Your heart fluttered at her words, a blush rising to your cheeks as you pressed a gentle kiss to her temple.

"I mean... I wouldn't mind that" you admitted shyly, your lips grazing against her skin. "But we should probably get up soon," you chuckled, the reality of the day's plans creeping back into your consciousness. "Barb will likely be waiting to have breakfast before we head home."

"Yeah, I know," Mel sighed, reluctantly releasing you from her hold.

"But can we stay like this just a little while longer?" she groaned, her voice laden with desire, before drawing you into a kiss that ignited with a slow ecstasy. Your lips traced a path to Mel's neck, planting a series of tender kisses that culminated in a gentle bite, eliciting a whimper from her.

As she trailed kisses down your neck in response, a soft moan escaped your lips prompting her to shift her focus. She captured your mouth with hers, her tongue delving deep into your mouth. Your hand instinctively slid up her back beneath her shirt, caressing and exploring the warmth of her skin. It took every ounce of willpower to pull away from her at that moment. You stare at her, both of your breaths coming ragged as you met Mel's gaze, both of you wide-eyed and flushed with desire.

"Mel... it's time to go to brunch," you managed, your voice strained with longing. "I can guarantee you, there will be more of this later," you added with a suggestive nod toward the tousled sheets.

"Fine," Melissa huffs, playfully rolling her eyes, but a smile still plastered on her lips.

But before she could get out of bed, you grabbed her arm, "I'm glad this happened you know," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. "I've seriously had my eyes on you since I started working at Abbott. I was losing it seeing you come into work every day looking so good and I had to pretend as if I didn't notice."

"Is that so... well, I'll be sure to give you something to notice next time we're at work," Mel smirks at you and smacks your ass as she untangles herself from you in favour of getting dressed.

Later, at brunch, Barbara's eyes widened in surprise as she took in the scene before her. Her gaze flicked between you and Melissa, her lips curling into a mischievous smile as she noticed the telltale marks scattered across both of your necks.

"Looks like someone had a good night," she teased, her tone laced with amusement.

Confusion gave way to recognition as you noticed the purple bruises scattered across Mel's neck, and her eyes widened as she noticed similar marks on yours.

A silent understanding passed between the two of you as Melissa chuckled softly, leaning in closer to you as she reached for her coffee. "We may have gotten a little carried away," she admits with a wink.

Barbara laughed, shaking her head in amusement. "Well, I'm glad to see you two are finally getting your act together," she says, her tone affectionate. "It's about time."

#melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x y/n #abbott elementary #lisa ann walter #one bed trope #wlw #x reader

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xtra7s · 3 months

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𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐒 ★ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏

pairing: Renee Rapp x reader

Synopsis: Renee Rapp finds herself being forced to co-write with her popstar enemy, Y/N YL/N.

content: none

word count: 2500+

masterlist

Sunlight, pale and watery, peeked through Renee's eyelids, coaxing them open. She groaned, squinting at the dust motes dancing in the sunbeam, momentarily lost before memory slammed back, a tidal wave of yesterday's chaos. The sold-out show, the encore that bled into the early hours, the post-show whirlwind of sweaty hugs and hoarse thank yous.

She sat up, wincing at the way her muscles protested, stretched languidly like a sun-drenched cat. Her apartment, usually alive with the echoes of guitar strings and her own humming, was blessedly quiet. She savored the stillness, reveling in the luxury of an unscheduled morning.

Coffee first, always coffee. Slipping into a faded black tee and ripped sweatpants, Renee padded into the kitchen, the familiar ritual grounding her. The hiss of the espresso machine, the frothy gurgle of milk, all a symphony of caffeine-fueled peace. She curled up on the window seat, mug cradled in her hands, watching the city wake up beneath a veil of mist.

The day unfurled with the lazy elegance of a catnap. She strummed aimlessly on her guitar, chords bleeding into each other like watercolor paints. A melody hummed beneath her breath, hesitant at first, then soaring with newfound confidence. Words followed, tumbling out like spilled secrets, raw and vulnerable. This one, she knew, wouldn't be for the stage. This one was for her, etched in the quiet of her living room, sunlight painting gold across her notebook pages.

Mid-verse, the phone buzzed, pulling her back from the daydream landscape. It was Adam, her manager, his voice a staccato counterpoint to the slow tempo of her morning. "Hey, sleepyhead. Get that caffeine flowing, you've got a meeting in an hour."

Renee blinked the edges of her daydream blurring. "A meeting? With who?"

"Surprise," Adam purred, a mischievous glint in his voice. "Just be at the office by noon, looking fierce. Trust me, this is good."

The call ended, leaving behind a delicious cocktail of curiosity and apprehension. Adam rarely sprung surprises, preferring the well-worn path of meticulous planning. A quick peek at her calendar confirmed the blankness of the day, a testament to his clandestine maneuver. Renee, intrigued, finished her coffee with newfound urgency.

A quick shower scrubbed away the remnants of sleep and yesterday's glitter. Jeans replaced sweatpants, and a vintage band tee swapped for a sleek silk cropped tank. She threw on a leather jacket, its worn patina contrasting the delicate silver chain around her neck. A flick of mascara, a touch of rouge, and voila, Renee was ready for whatever mystery Max had cooked up.

The subway ride was a whirlwind of crumpled newspapers and hurried goodbyes. The city buzzed outside the windows, a symphony of car horns and sirens that somehow managed to be lullaby familiar. Renee tapped her foot against the worn floor, an impatient rhythm against the steady rumble of the train.

Adam's office, on the top floor of a sleek glass tower, felt as controlled as its occupant. He sat behind a minimalist desk, a tablet gleaming like a black mirror in his hands. "Well, look who graced us with her presence," he drawled, a sharkish grin lighting up his face.

"Alright, spill it," Renee demanded, settling into the plush leather chair opposite him. She took off her jacket and rested it on the chair, "Who's the mystery meeting with?"

Adam smirked, leaning back in his chair. "Ready for the real kicker, Blondie?" He reached for his tablet, tapping the screen with a flourish. "Your writing partner for these demos? None other than the one and only..."

The name that flashed on the screen froze Renee's blood. Y/N YL/N. The girl who seemed to embody everything Renee wasn't – polished, perfect, and seemingly born with a platinum record tucked behind each earlobe.

Their paths had crossed a few times – an awkward introduction at an awards show, a tense exchange at a music industry party – and each encounter had felt like navigating a minefield. Y/N’s icy smile and razor-sharp wit felt like a personal affront, a constant reminder of everything Renee felt insecure about.

The news hit her like a rogue wave. Collaborating with Y/N? Writing songs together? It was like asking a firefly to tango with a scorpion. The very idea sent shivers down her spine, a delicious blend of dread and fascination.

"You're joking, right?" Renee's voice was a tight whisper, her fingers twisting in her lap.

Adam chuckled, but there was a glint of steel in his eyes. "Nope. Word on the street is that Y/N's been looking for a songwriting partner with some... grit. Apparently, her last collaborator couldn't handle the 'diva act.'" He raised an eyebrow, daring her to challenge him.

Renee squared her shoulders, a spark of defiance lighting in her eyes. "Challenge accepted," she declared, her voice steadier than she felt. "Let's see who the real diva is when we're both spitting shit in a recording booth."

The Hollywood dream suddenly felt a lot less glamorous and a lot more like stepping into a coliseum, armed only with a guitar and a stubborn sense of self. Writing songs with Y/N was going to be hell, but maybe, just maybe, it would also be the spark that ignited something extraordinary, both on the record and within herself.

As Adam slid a glass of champagne into her hand, the city lights outside the window seemed to wink, beckoning her towards a future both terrifying and thrilling. The Renee Rapp show was just getting started, and her first act was facing her demons, head-on and harmony-filled.

"Alright, Renee," he said, pushing himself up from his chair. "Y/N's on her way to the studio right now. Time to go meet your new best friend."

Renee swallowed hard, the champagne suddenly turning to vinegar in her stomach. "Right," she croaked, forcing a smile. "Studio. Collaboration. Teamwork."

Adam raised an eyebrow, his sharkish grin widening. "More like controlled chaos, but hey, that's where the magic happens, right?" He winked, then tossed her black leather jacket to her. "Go get 'em, tiger. Show her what Renee Rapp's made of."

The city stretched out before her, a concrete jungle pulsating with possibility and peril. Grabbing a taxi, Renee sped towards the studio, her thoughts churning like a washing machine on a spin cycle. Would Y/N be the ice queen she always appeared to be, or was there something more beneath the polished surface? Could they possibly navigate the choppy waters of songwriting together, or would their egos collide in a spectacular, public shipwreck?

The studio, nestled in the heart of Hollywood, hummed with creative energy. The air crackled with the sound of guitars being tuned, drumsticks tapping impatiently, and voices warming up scales. Renee took a deep breath, stepping into the dimly lit control room where Angela waited, her music producer, a mischievous glint in her eye.

"She's in booth two," she said, pointing towards a soundproofed glass box.

Renee nodded, her heart pounding a primal rhythm against her ribs. She pushed open the heavy door, stepping into the booth like a gladiator entering the arena. There, bathed in the soft glow of studio lights, sat Y/N YL/N.

For a moment, the world held its breath. The two rivals were locked in a silent standoff, their past encounters casting long shadows across the room. Then, a slow smile spread across Y/N's face, a smirk that was equal parts of challenge and intrigue.

"Renee Rapp," she drawled, her voice like honeyed poison. "Fancy seeing you here."

Renee met her gaze, her own smile steely and determined. "Yeah yeah, Y/N," she replied. "Let's get to work."

And so, the unlikely collaboration began. Two voices, so different yet somehow destined to intertwine, filled the studio with the raw energy of unspoken feelings and unbridled talent. The air crackled with tension, with unspoken words hanging heavy between them. Yet, as their fingers danced across guitars and their voices blended in unexpected harmonies, a spark ignited.

It was a dance on the edge of a volcano, fueled by equal parts animosity and grudging respect. They challenged each other and pushed each other to their limits, their voices soaring and crashing like waves against the rocks.

Frustration hung heavy in the air, thick enough to cut with a knife. Hours had bled by, filled with discarded melodies and half-written verses, with the tantalizing promise of a song just out of reach. Renee strummed her guitar listlessly, the chords echoing the emptiness in her mind.

Y/N sat across from her, perched on a stool, her usually immaculate hair mussed, dark circles smudging the corners of her eyes. The polished veneer of her persona had peeled away, revealing the vulnerability beneath. For the first time, Renee saw her not as a rival, but as another artist struggling with the same demons.

A sudden change in Renee's strumming caught Y/N's attention. Her head snapped up, eyes locking with Renee's, who seemed unaware of the shift. Her fingers danced across the strings, weaving a melody that was both raw and captivating. Renee's lips moved silently, forming words that hung in the air like wisps of smoke.

"You say that I'm your favorite," she hummed, her voice low and husky, "With your hand between my thighs."

Y/N's breath hitched, a shiver dancing down her spine. The lyrics, raw and unapologetic, cut through the tension like a knife. This wasn't the sugary pop Y/N was known for; this was something darker, something more real.

Renee's eyes fluttered open, meeting Y/N's gaze with a newfound intensity. The air crackled with electricity, a mix of anticipation and trepidation.

"Tell me if you were gonna," Renee continued, her voice gaining strength, "That I would be the one you tried."

Y/N watched, hypnotized, as Renee mumbled a few more lyrics before shaking her head. The raw lyrics, sung with smoky confidence, peeled back layer after layer of the facade Renee typically projected. Y/N noticed things she'd never observed before - the flecks of gold in Renee's blue eyes that sparked with each line, the way her nose crinkled adorably when she concentrated, and the subtle curve of her jaw that spoke of hidden strength.

The song, a shared confession, had cracked open Y/N's carefully constructed shell, revealing a tangle of emotions she'd kept buried for years. Her gaze traced the line of Renee's neck, the pulse fluttering beneath the delicate skin, and a shiver ran down Y/N's spine.

The air crackled with a charged silence. Y/N's walls, once brick and mortar, were now mere cobblestones, tumbling into disarray. She met Renee's eyes, her own unguarded and vulnerable, a stark contrast to the icy color they usually held.

"That..." Y/N's voice was a mere whisper, "That was something else, Renee."

Renee, sensing the shift, offered a tentative smile. "It was," she agreed, her voice husky.

There, in the dimly lit studio, their rivalry seemed to melt away, replaced by a fragile understanding, a whispered promise of shared vulnerability. They stepped out into the dawn, the first rays of sunlight painting the sky in shades of pink and gold. It was a new beginning, a blank canvas upon which they could paint a masterpiece of collaboration.

But as they left the studio and the magic of the music faded, Y/N's walls began to rebuild, brick by metaphorical brick. The vulnerability

evaporated, replaced by the familiar mask of cold detachment. Her back straightened, her gaze sharpened, and a familiar smirk played on her lips.

"Alright, Renee," she drawled, her voice tinged with her usual icy edge. "Hit me up tomorrow, I'll come over and we can continue writing."

Renee blinked, startled by the sharp shift. She nodded as the warmth of their shared moment had dissolved, leaving behind a bitter aftertaste. But something had changed. Renee saw a flicker of the woman beneath the ice queen, a glimpse of the vulnerability Y/N had so briefly unveiled.

The game had changed, indeed. Renee knew the road ahead would be paved with challenges, with Y/N's barbed wit and ruthless ambition a constant obstacle. But she also knew that, hidden beneath the layers of frost, there was a fire in Y/N that could be kindled. The melody they had forged together, raw and honest, was proof. And that, in itself, was a victory.

The rivalry was far from over, but now, it danced with a hint of something else, something unspoken and intriguing. Renee met Y/N's gaze, a new challenge glinting in her own eyes.

Renee stumbled out of the studio, eyelids drooping and nerves buzzing. Sleep, usually a welcome sanctuary, seemed elusive tonight. The image of Y/N's walls rebuilding, brick by icy brick, replayed in her mind, a discordant note against the echo of their raw collaboration.

She drifted into her apartment, the silence pressing against her like a suffocating wave. The ukulele leaned against the wall, untouched, yearning for the warmth of her fingers. Instead, she gravitated towards her trusty guitar, its familiar weight grounding her in the chaos of her emotions.

Her fingers danced across the strings, returning to the notes she played in the studio, a way to translate the tangled mess in her head. The chords came hesitantly at first, a tentative whisper, then gathering momentum like a gathering storm. Her voice, raw and unfiltered, filled the quiet room, weaving a tapestry of unspoken desires and lingering questions.

"In the PM, all the pretty girls," she crooned, "They have a couple drinks, all the pretty girls."

The lyric hung in the air, heavy with both longing and self-awareness. Was it her own reflection she saw in those words, the girl in the mirror seeking solace in the fleeting comfort of company? Or was it Y/N, a glimpse beneath the polished surface, a yearning for something just beyond her reach?

"So now, they wanna kiss all the pretty girls," Renee continued, her voice gaining strength, "They got to have a taste of a pretty girl."

The melody soared, achingly beautiful, and laced with a bittersweet truth. The game they played, the unspoken tension between them, was it just a desperate grasp for connection in a world of curated personas? Or was there something more, something simmering beneath the veneer of rivalry?

She strummed the final chord, letting the silence settle like a soft snowfall. The lyrics etched onto the page in messy scrawl, seemed to hold the answer to a question she hadn't even dared to ask. Tonight, the lines between artist and subject had blurred, Renee revealing not just melodies but a sliver of her own soul.

With a heavy sigh, she slipped into bed, the image of Y/N's eyes, both guarded and curious, dancing behind her eyelids. Sleep, at last, brought its welcome embrace, but within its depths, another song was stirring, waiting to be born. In the morning, with the city streets shimmering beneath the sunrise, Renee knew the game had just begun.

The melodies they created, confessions hidden in plain sight, would be their currency, their battle cries, their whispered promises. Whether it led to harmony or heartbreak, one thing was certain: the world they were about to create, together, would be unlike anything anyone had ever heard.

#renee rapp x reader #renee rapp #lesbian #wlw #the sex lives of college girls #leighton murray #leighton murray x reader #lgbtq #mean girls

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a-simple-gaywitch · 1 year

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Amidst the Chaos

Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Spencer and (Y/N) didn't get along, and it annoyed the whole BAU. But when a traumatized (Y/N) shows up at Spencer's apartment late one night, their whole relationship shifts

Warnings: PTSD, trauma, references to torture, other canon-typical topics

Word Count: 3827

Author’s Note: not necessarily my best fic, but i’ve been working on it for over a year so... here it is

Orpheus - Sara Bareilles

AO3 Link

“Don't stop trying to find me here amidst the chaos. Though I know it's blinding, there's a way out.” ~ Sara Bareilles, Orpheus

“Guys, I want you to meet our newest team member,” Hotch said to the BAU as they settled around the table. “This is Agent (Y/N) (L/N).”

You gave a shy wave to the group in front of you, but your smile was bright enough to light up the entire room. “Hi.”

“She’s coming to us from Organized Crime. I trust that you’ll all welcome her to the team.”

“Honestly, I’m just happy to be given a chance to work with all of you. It’s been my dream to work at the BAU for years.”

“We’ll have time to get to know Agent (L/N) better on the plane. But for now, we have a case,” Hotch said. “JJ?”

“So,” Derek said, taking a seat next to you on the jet. “What was Organized Crime like?”

“Honestly? Boring as all hell. It was mostly stopping money laundering and drug cartels,” you said. “Not as glamorous as Goodfellas makes it seem. Besides, the BAU was always my end goal anyway.”

He chuckled a bit. “Yeah, I get that. We’re glad to have you on our team. ” The conversation between you and Morgan flowed easily and before you knew it, you had become like brother and sister. The rest of the team grew to love you too. Well, most of the team.

Spencer seemed icy and cold toward you, and no one could offer a valid explanation. By all accounts, you should have gotten along. You loved Halloween just as much as Spencer did and you always had at least 3 books on your person at a time. You had a borderline unhealthy addiction to caffeine and sugar and spent more time in the office than your apartment. But for some reason, you and Spencer just seemed to constantly be at each other’s throats.

In your defense, Reid had started it.

For whatever reason, Reid disliked you right out the gate. He tried to be civil toward you, but something about you just bothered him.

He originally just tried to avoid you when he could, but with the nature of the team’s dynamic, that didn’t work out well.

Spencer found himself doing small, petty things to annoy you, like putting your favorite mug on the top shelf where you couldn’t reach it or borrowing your pens and “forgetting” to return them. Something about seeing you mildly inconvenienced and annoyed as opposed to your normally happy and bubbly self made him feel better. He knew it was fucked up of him.

Eventually, the animosity became mutual. You and Spencer were rarely paired together on cases because Hotch couldn’t stand the constant arguing between the two of you. Mostly, Hotch tended to pair you with Derek who you began to see as a brother.

Spencer would never admit it, but seeing you and Derek be as close as you were stirred some kind of jealousy in him. He figured it was just because he had been friends with Morgan first, that was all.

Local cases were always extra stressful on the team. Something about unsubs being so close to home made the cases more personal. As such, tensions were running high and no one had slept in over 24 hours as the team worked to nail down a profile.

“This doesn’t make sense,” you muttered as you looked over the crime scene photos. “The crime profiles as disorganized but the victimology and timeline profile him as organized.”

“How you doing there, Pretty Girl?” Morgan asked, setting down a carrier of coffee cups.

You sighed and picked up the cup with your name scrawled on it. “There’s discrepancies in our preliminary profile and I can’t…”

“Did you try comparing notes with Reid?”

“Derek, I love you, but are you insane?”

“I’m serious, (Y/N).”

“So am I. Any time I try to have any kind of civilized conversation with that man he turns it into an argument.”

Thankfully, Hotch came into the room at that point, stopping the conversation. “We have two potential leads. Morgan, you’re going with Blake to the first address. (L/N), you and Reid are going to the second.” Hotch tossed you both keys for SUVs. “Reid and Blake have the files. They’ll fill you in on the drive.”

“Yes, sir.” You grabbed your coffee from the table, along with Reid’s, and headed out to the car. When you got to the parking lot, Reid was already leaning against the car, flipping through a file folder. “Reid. Here.”

As you handed him the coffee, he said, “What, was everyone else busy?”

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t know. I’m just following Hotch’s orders.” You unlocked the car and climbed in. “Where are we going?”

“21 Rock Creek Road, Somerset. We’re interviewing Linda Walsh, the neighbor of our first victim, Savanna Curtis.”

“Great. Can you type it into the GPS?”

“Why? I can just give you the directions.”

“Because the GPS is more accurate.”

“(L/N), I have an eidetic memor-”

“Eidetic memory, I know. But you’re telling me your memory can predict traffic patterns? I don’t think so. Just use the damn GPS.”

“Fine.” Spencer typed the address in, muttering under his breath.

“Thank you. What information do we have on Walsh?”

“72 years old, she was reportedly in the house when Curtis was attacked and taken to the secondary location. Hotch wants us to interview her and see if she noticed anything that might help us with the profile.”

Soon enough, the two of you pulled up to the witness’s house. Before even getting out of the car, you felt like something was wrong.

”Wait, Reid.” You grabbed his arm as he reached for the door handle. “Something about this doesn’t feel right.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look at the windows. All of them are dark. Not even a television glow. Something’s off.”

“I hate to say it, but you’re right.”

You hopped out of the car and pulled your gun from your side, following Reid up the path to the house. He knocked on the front door.

“I don’t hear anything from inside.” He knocked again. “Go around the back, see if you can get in that way.”

You nodded and walked around the house. You could hear Reid continuing to knock as you went around. As you rounded the corner, a sharp pain entered your shoulder. You yelled and turned around, but not before a blunt object hit you in the temple and your vision faded.

Spencer was panicking. You were missing, and it was his fault. He was pacing in the front yard of Walsh’s home while the team and the local authorities worked to catch up.

“Reid, what happened?” Hotch asked. “We need everything.”

Spencer relayed every detail from the moment the two of you pulled up to the house, still pacing. “I shouldn’t have told her to go off on her own, it’s my fault-”

“Kid, breathe,” Morgan told him. “You didn’t know this would happen. What’s important now is finding her and bringing her home safe.”

The team did a thorough inspection on Mrs. Walsh’s home and learned a good deal. Mrs. Walsh wasn’t home, as was reported. However, her son, Devin, was clearly staying with her. It didn’t take the team long to figure out he was the unsub.

When you awoke, you were in a secondary location. Your head was throbbing behind your eyes and your shoulder was in agony. Your arms were tied behind your back, but that was the only restraint to your mobility. You looked around, trying to figure out where you were. It was a large, open space, you guessed a warehouse, probably abandoned. It was dark, except for the glow of the streetlights outside and an industrial lamp in the center of the room. You didn’t have much time to assess your surroundings, though, because Walsh was waiting for you to wake up.

You knew the facts of the case. You saw the photos. He kept the women for 24 hours, torturing them until their bodies were barely recognizable. Then, he’d kill and dump them.

But you also knew your team. They were relentless. And they would save you.

“We’ve seen what he does to his victims. We’re in a race against the clock here,” Morgan argued with Hotch.

“But we still have to keep our heads and follow the law. If we don’t get a warrant, any evidence we do find goes right out the window.”

“Guys, Garcia found something,” JJ said. She put her phone on speaker. “Go ahead, Garcia.”

“So, Walsh’s dear old dad was the owner of a warehouse in the 80s. The warehouse is still in his name but has since been abandoned. And before you even ask, yes, I sent you the address.”

The SUVs pulled up to the warehouse and the team jumped out. The plan was to enter the building slow and quiet, but that changed when they heard you scream, followed by a gunshot. Then, everything went silent. Completely silent.

Everyone rushed into the building. The team was terrified of what they were about to find. What they saw, no one could have expected.

You were lying unconscious on the floor, in a pool of blood. Also on the floor, with a bullet hole through his forehead, was Devin Walsh. Standing with a gun in her hands was 72 year old Linda Walsh, tears running down her face.

“I had to,” she said, looking at Hotch. “He was gonna kill her.”

“We need a medic!”

The team was sitting around your hospital bed. The doctor had said you probably wouldn’t wake up for a while, but they were determined to have someone there with you when you did.

“We should take shifts,” JJ suggested. “That way there’s always someone here and the rest of us can get some rest, too.”

“That’s a good idea. Dave and I can take the first shift,” Hotch said. “We’ll do four-hour rotations in pairs.”

They talked through who would pair up and take what rotations before Rossi shooed the rest of the team out.

Eventually, Reid and Morgan were on their “shift.” Morgan glanced over at Reid, who was staring at the same page of a book.

“You ever gonna flip that page?”

“What if she doesn’t wake up?”

“Kid, you heard the doctor. She will.”

“But what if she doesn’t? It would be my fault. I’m the one who made her go off by herself. We were supposed to be a team and I couldn’t see past-” He cut himself off, shaking his head.

“Hey,” Morgan put his hand on Spencer’s shoulder, “it’ll be okay, Reid. I’m gonna go grab a coffee. Want one?”

“Sure.” After Morgan left, Spencer looked at you and sighed. Your body was wrapped in casts and bandages. “Hey, (L/N),” he said, reaching out and resting his hand on top of yours.

One thing you didn’t expect about being in a medically induced coma was to still hear everything going on around you. You could hear the doctors and nurses moving about your room. You could hear your teammates. You heard Hotch and Rossi talking about the paperwork they’d have to file on the case because an agent had been seriously injured. You heard the music Penelope insisted on playing, and you heard Spencer.

“Hey, (L/N),” you heard him say. “I don’t know if you can hear me but,” he took a deep breath, “I’m sorry. Not just for this. I mean, obviously for this. I never should have split us up, I never should have sent you around the back of the house, I never should have-” he stopped himself. You could hear the tightness in his voice. Was he crying? No, Reid wouldn’t be crying over you. Would he? But he continued. “I was awful to you. I mean, I was an asshole,” he said with a dry laugh. “There’s no other word for it. I was an asshole to you and there was no excuse. I’m so sorry, (Y/N). I-”

“One cup of sugar with a splash of coffee,” Derek said, coming back into the room.

“Thanks.” Reid took the cup in both his hands, grateful for a distraction from his guilt.

“Any change?”

He shook his head. “None.”

Derek sighed. “You know, part of me was really hoping she’d wake up in the five minutes I was gone.” He gripped your hand that wasn’t casted up. “We miss you, Pretty Girl.”

Your coma lasted for about 3 weeks. The doctors kept you in the hospital for observation for another full week before finally letting you go home.

During your recovery, your apartment was practically a revolving door. Just about the entire team came by to check on you and keep you company, with the exception of Spencer. You couldn’t say you were too surprised. However, something about it upset you. Hell, even Hotch and Rossi took the time to stop by and check on you.

Derek and Penelope were probably your most frequent visitors. You were honestly grateful for their visits, and for the help it brought. With your injuries, simple day-to-day tasks were more difficult for you, and Penelope and Derek were more than happy to help you out. Derek took your grocery list and all your other errands while Penelope helped around your apartment. You were even more grateful when they forced you to attend a dinner party at Rossi’s. Penelope was at your apartment, helping you pick out a dress for the event.

“I don’t know, Pen.”

“(Y/N), I’m telling you, purple is your color.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want my dress to match my bruises.”

Penelope just rolled her eyes and tossed the dress on your bed. “Do you really think I’d pick out a dress that didn’t make you look good? Let’s go, you haven’t had a proper shower in a week.”

Penelope helped you get ready for the dinner party before getting ready herself. She helped adjust the strap of your brace when your doorbell buzzed.

“That’ll be Derek,” you said. Penelope answered the door to Derek standing outside, leaning against your doorframe.

“Well, look at these pretty ladies. You ready to go?”

“Yeah, I need to get out of this house,” you said. “I haven’t seen anything but these walls in weeks.”

When you pulled into Rossi’s driveway, you were more than excited to see the team. The team, in turn, was excited to see you. You were smiling and laughing, more and more of your normal self.

When Spencer saw you walk through Rossi’s front door on your crutches, a lump formed in his throat. Ever since seeing you in the hospital, he’d been wracked with guilt. It was the main reason why he hadn’t visited you like everyone else. He tried to avoid you the whole night. Thankfully, you were so happy to be with the others that you didn’t seem to notice. But Blake did.

“Okay, what’s going on with you?” she asked Spencer, handing him a drink.

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re avoiding everyone tonight. Why?” When Spencer stayed silent, Blake followed his line of sight. He was watching you talking with JJ. “Ah. Why don’t you go talk to her?”

“I can’t, Alex. Believe me, I’ve tried. For months. Any time I try and have just a normal goddamn conversation with her, what comes out is sarcastic and cruel. I-I don’t know why it happens.” He ran his hands over his face and groaned.

“You’re in love with her.” Blake wasn’t saying it as a question. Seeing the panic in his eyes, she said, “Don’t worry, it’ll stay with me.”

The heavy sheets of rain outside pounded against the apartment windows. It was the kind of cold rain that seeped into your bones, despite a warm home. It was late, but Spencer was still awake, reading. He couldn’t sleep, which wasn’t unusual for him. He heard a knock on his door. Spencer set his book down on his coffee table before walking to his door. He glanced out the peephole and took a step back in shock. Spencer opened the door to see you standing there, soaked and visibly shivering, in only your pajamas. Your eyes were bloodshot and you were sniffling.

“(L/N)? What are you-”

“I’m sorry. I know you probably don’t want me here and I don’t even know how I ended up here, I just started walking and-”

“Wait, wait, you walked here? In the torrential downpour?” When you nodded, Spencer opened his door wider. “Here, come in. You must be freezing. What happened?”

You stepped through his door and began to ramble, “I don’t know. I woke up from a nightmare and I knew I-I couldn’t stay in my apartment alone so I just started walking and somehow I ended up here and I’m sorry.” Your teeth were chattering as you continued to shiver.

Spencer grabbed a blanket off the back of his couch and draped it around you. “No, no, it’s, um-” Spencer cleared his throat. “Do you want to talk about it? I’ve found that sometimes just saying it out loud helps.”

Once you nodded, Spencer held his hand out and led you over to his couch. You were silent for a few moments, staring out the window at the rain streaming down.

“I was back… there,” you said when you finally started talking. “In the dark. I-I couldn’t see anything but I knew he was there. Then I felt his hands on my throat and-” You cut yourself off, shaking your head. Your whole body was shivering, but Spencer didn’t think it was from the cold anymore.

Spencer moved to put his arm around you but stopped, dropping his arm back to his side. “I know how you feel,” he said. “After Hankle, I couldn’t handle looking at the crime scene photos because I knew what the victims were thinking right… you know… right before.”

“Do they ever stop? The nightmares?”

“I don’t know. Mine haven’t.” When he saw the defeat on your face, he added, “But it does get easier.”

You nodded, still staring out at the pouring rain. You cleared your throat. “Well, uh, I’ll, um, I’ll call a taxi and get out of your hair.”

“You don’t- uh, you can stay, um, if-if you want,” Spencer said.

“Reid, I don’t want to impose-”

“You wouldn’t be!” Spencer assured you. “I could use the company, actually. I’ve been trying to find someone to watch Stardust with me. Penelope says I need to watch more pop culture and I know you’re a fan of Neil Gaiman.” He gave you a soft smile. “Please, (Y/N), stay. I promise, you’re not imposing.”

When he saw your face crack into a small smile, he felt a swarm of butterflies rise in his stomach. “Okay,” you said.

About halfway through the movie, Spencer felt you slump against his shoulder. Before he knew it, you were fast asleep. He was frozen there, not wanting to disturb you. He knew how rough the past few months had been, and it was obvious to everyone you weren’t sleeping. Maybe it was the guilt, maybe it was more, but Spencer felt like it was now his responsibility to take care of you, if you would let him.

The whole team noticed the shift between you and Reid. Where you would previously stay as far from each other as possible, you were now actively seeking each other out. You chose to sit next to each other in the briefing room and on the jet, something you had never done before. On the trips back from cases, you would rest your head on Reid’s shoulder and sleep while he read a book. But, no one said anything about any of it. No one wanted to burst whatever weird bubble was surrounding the BAU team.

That was, until Blake, Derek, and JJ spotted you knocking on Spencer’s motel door one night during a case. The two were sitting up in the lounge going over the case files yet again when they spotted you, in your pajamas, sneaking out of your own room.

After watching you slip into Spencer’s room, JJ said, “You don’t think they’re…”

“Reid and (L/N)? No, there’s no way. They can’t stand each other.”

“Well, they do say there’s a thin line between love and hate,” Alex noted, turning the page in her book.

“I don’t know about you two, but I need to know what’s going on,” Derek said, getting up from the couch.

“I’m coming with you!”

“Guys, I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” Alex warned. “Just talk to them about it in the morning.”

“Do you know something, Alex?” JJ asked.

“Even if I did know something, it wouldn’t be my place to tell you.”

The next morning, you felt eyes on you as you drank your coffee. You looked up from the case file to see Derek staring at you.

“What?”

“Were you going to tell me about you and Reid or…”

“What are you talking about? Me and Reid?”

“(Y/N), come on. You two are practically attached at the hip when just two weeks ago you couldn’t fucking stand each other.”

You shrugged. “We worked out our differences, I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Alright, what about you sneaking off to his room last night?”

Your face paled. “It’s not what it looked like.”

“Care to explain then?”

You sighed, looking around to make sure it was just you and Morgan. “You know I haven’t been sleeping since, well, everything.” Derek nodded. “Well, a few nights ago I ended up at Reid’s apartment in a panic. It was pouring out so he let me just stay and I slept better than I had in years. And, you know, he’s not too bad to hang out with either,” your face flushed with your last statement.

“You’re not too bad to hang out with either.”

You jumped, turning around to see Spencer in the doorway with cups of (good) coffee in his arms.

“Spencer, when did-”

He handed you a frappuccino. “Just now. I take it you weren’t as sneaky as you thought?”

“Shut up,” you whined, nudging him with your arm as you stuck a straw in your drink. Spencer just laughed and took a seat next to you.

“So, you’re just, like, friends now?”

You and Spencer looked at each other, seemingly having a conversation without speaking.

“I mean, I’d say we’re a bit more than just friends,” you admitted, smiling at Spencer. He kissed the top of your head.

“Damn, I owe JJ 10 bucks,” Derek muttered before saying, “But seriously, I’m happy for you two. It’s about time you realized you were perfect for each other.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #bau x reader #em's fics

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kiachiako · 2 years

Text

hold fast | l.jn

pairing | jeno x female!reader

synopsis | After finding hand scribbled messages in a novel of the quaint bookshop you work at, you start a paper dependent back-and-forth with an anonymous penman; a small part of you, however, hopes that your brother’s cold best friend may have a hand in their mysterious appearances.

content | brother!jaemin, brother!jaehyun, au, fluff, language warning

wc | 11.1k

song | all the stars — kendrick lamar, sza

a/n | my first longer fic, hope u enjoy it! leave any and all feedback, i’d love to hear ur thoughts :))

…

Maybe it was the caffeine rushing through your veins at the ripe hour of 3 am, a seemingly perfect time to sneak out of your parents' house. Or maybe it was the desperation to get away from your textbooks haunting you out of sleep, leading to an all-nighter in which you almost caved into the temptation to burn your hellish flashcards. When the devil couldn't reach you, he sent not only a brother to torment your every waking moment but a Satan reincarnate called physics summer homework. Who assigns homework during the summer anyway?

Wanting to get away from the stress of life for a while, you had planned to walk out your front door unbothered. But of course, nothing goes without the notice of your twin brother.

Neon lights highlighting the sharp angles on his face, Jaemin's eyes trailed your walking form as you attempted to sneak out through the living room an hour earlier. With his gaming set-up littered with empty wrappers and neglected work, you returned his stare with disgust as he reclined on the couch without a care in the world.

Fortunately, Jaemin cared more about the game he was winning than you traipsing out in the dark alone; judging by the screaming that was blaring through his headphones, he'll be up playing with his closest friends into the late morning.

They're all like him: infuriatingly annoying and always too loud. So loud that you purposely make plans to go out whenever you see his friends pull up to the Na household. You're sure that at least some of them are kinder than your brother, but you've never stuck around long enough to find out.

Although it might not appear so to others, you and Jaemin's relationship is anything but bad; he cares for you in the most tsundere of ways, and his constant teasing is simply the nature of his own personality. You know that he will call you in a good two hours to make sure you're alive (although he'll probably argue that the call is not out of love, but because his hoodie has mysteriously disappeared which you or may not have "borrowed" a week earlier).

Your relationship is complimentary like that, unspoken care for each other masked under the daily mocking and ignoring each other at school. Now that your eldest brother, Jaehyun, is away at university, it's just the two of you. You cover for each other when you want to skip out on a few classes or when Jaemin has a girl over that your parents didn't know about, and that works perfectly fine for you. Tonight is no exception.

After unlocking your bike from a nearby pole and walking it down the empty suburban street, it only took a quick ride to reach your final destination.

And that brings you to your current position; staring at the bookstore window with a set of keys dangling precariously from your fingers. Technically this wouldn't be breaking in, right?

At an hour in which the late party-goers have finally stumbled home and the early risers have not yet awoken, there is no one around to see you enter the quaint storefront at said ungodly hour. And so, against your better judgement, you quickly unlock the door and slip into the darkness.

You had chosen the bookstore job over the summer for a reason; it provided not only a quiet place to get away from when the chaos got too much at home, but you were surrounded by endless entertainment. People-watching from behind the counter with a pile of to-be-read books and a glass of iced tea had been your expected routine for the past few months, and it has been more than fulfilled as summer break reaches its end.

The store owner is a kind old woman who insisted on raising your pay within the first week, but she's rarely in town to care for the shop. That leaves you to yourself with a variety of intriguing customers, a plethora of mystery novels, and air conditioning (thank god) to escape to during sticky august heat waves.

And that is also why your soul absolutely leaves your body in shock when you whirl around to face Mrs. Lee — your boss who, by the way, said she wouldn't be back for another month. A surprised noise leaves the back of your throat, awkwardly bowing to her as she stares at you in amusement.

"Mrs. Lee, funny to run into you at this hour. You're back earlier than I expected," you say, wracking your brain for a plausible excuse to why you'd be at the shop six hours before opening time.

"Yes, honey," she replies, turning to the side to put her bag down, "I wanted to come back a little earlier so you wouldn't have to take care of the shop on your own when school starts."

You nod and move a little farther into the shop. "Sorry for coming so early. I just needed somewhere to go for a little bit." The old woman turns to you, her eyes crinkling as she smiles kindly at you.

"Never apologize, Y/N. I understand that we all have our own struggles, hmm?" and with another mysterious smile, she turns her back to you and disappears into the back room.

Still left a bit confused, you shrug, make your way around the counter, and settle into the plush cashier's chair.

With the dim moonlight filtering through azure-tinted display windows and a stinging smell of citrus keeping you company, you find your eyes growing heavier and heavier as the night ticks away.

…

You think you've made it to heaven when you wake up to a halo of sunlight blinding your eyes into oblivion.

And, of course, the blaring ringing of your phone buzzing incessantly on the counter in front of you.

Still in a bit of a haze, you reach for your phone, only to answer to a—

"Jesus fucking christ, Y/N, do you know how long I've been calling you? And," you move the device away from your ear as Jaemin's screeching voice carries over into the previously peaceful bookshop, "where the hell is my black hoodie? I don't care if you're passed out in a ditch somewhere, just get me my hoodie back before school starts tomorrow."

"Shit," you mutter under your breath as you look down at your clothes sheepishly, realizing that the soft fabric you were sleeping on is actually your brother's favorite piece of clothing. Pulling out the remnants of a used blunt from the front pocket, you roll your eyes. Yup, definitely Jaemin's.

Reluctantly dragging yourself from your cozy sleeping spot, you mumble, "okay okay, Jaem. Chill out for a sec, hmm? I'm alive." You make your way over to the door. "But I won't be soon if you keep shouting in my ear like that. You're about to give me a permanent migraine."

Jaemin scoffs before you hear three beeps marking the end of your lovely conversation. Of course he would hang up on you.

After a quick bike ride back to your house to freshen up — in which you thankfully did not run into your brother — you stop by a coffee shop for an americano and make your way back to the bookshop to open up.

Mrs. Lee waves at you with her oversized sunhat and myriad of trinkets in tow, before leaving the shop all to you for the day.

A few uni students and an old man come in throughout the quiet august afternoon, looking for the average last minute history textbooks and poetry collections. You smile at every customer and drink your much-needed caffeine before resuming to the task of cataloging new shipments, a very null job for such a warm day.

And you're still in that state of mind when he walks in. Like a fever dream, if you have to call it something. His pale hair reflects in golden sunlight as it falls comfortably against the nape of his neck, a small pack of cigarettes poking out of his back pocket. Delicate silver chains fall right down the center of his chest, and you can't help but wonder where you have seen a person this stunning. He strikes such a familiar chord in the back of your head, but you just can't pinpoint it.

He carries an untouchable aura, glancing at you before passing to reach the books that reside in the depth of the shop.

So, with your legs comfortably curled up beneath you, you squint at him for a second before deciding that figuring out how you might know him is a waste of brain power.

After he walks away, you try to re-immerse yourself in your novel multiple times, but you can't help but glance up at whatever he's doing. Head tilted, your eyes follow him in curiosity as he confidently makes his way into the romance section. It’s a complete contradiction too, the dark clothing and motorcycle helmet tucked under his arm being the last thing one would expect on an avid romance reader. You like that, no shame.

He disappears out of view, the scent of lime and cedar cologne lingering after him. You grow more confused as he stays in that aisle for ten, twenty, thirty minutes (not that you're counting or anything).

He finally walks out with a non-readable look on his face and his hands empty, devoid of any books. His eyes shine as if he knows something you don't while walking casually past your spot behind the counter.

"Uh, have a good afternoon...?" you call after him as he shoots you a small smile before pushing his way into the summer heat, leaving nothing behind but the pungent smell of citrus and an air of mysteriousness.

"I- everybody is so weird today," you mumble to yourself, shaking your head and leaning back into your chair.

You make a mental note to check out that romance corner later. What could possibly be in the romance section that could keep him in there for over thirty minutes?

You've never had a thing for romantic novels or romance in general, especially after seeing your parent's marriage hit its rough patches and your heartbreaker of a brother in action. Jaemin has an allure about him that makes girls fall right into his trap, and you've watched too many of his flings run out of his room sobbing.

Your mom and dad describe him as "charming." You don't see it.

…

"See what, Jaemin?" You stare at him incredulously. "You're imagining things, there is no damn stain on your clothes." Shoving past your brother with a mouthful of cereal, you call out "we're literally late, hurry up!"

Jaemin shoots you a dirty look, chucking his student ID at you. "I swear to god Y/N— if I see a drop of coffee on my hoodie today, you better sleep with one eye open."

You ignore him and make your way out the front door, taking a deep breath of crisp morning air before you feel a hand knock into the back of your head. Hard. Your brother sticks his tongue out at you cheekily before making his way over to a sleek, black motorcycle. Something he bought to fit the "badboy" agenda he and his friends are so intent on fulfilling.

Swinging your leg over the vehicle behind him, a loud rev fills your neighborhood before you're shooting through the suburban streets that lead to your school.

Two blocks before you reach the entrance, Jaemin stops to let you off. It's always been your tradition; ignore each other's presence at school and no drama will ensue. You know just how much some of his secret admirers would probably go insane if he was seen riding to school with a girl behind him.

"I hope you have a shitty first day," your brother says, still convinced that you spilled your drink onto his sweatshirt this morning. Giving him an irritated look, you wish him the same and turn to walk towards the entrance separately.

Slipping into your assigned homeroom five minutes later, you're met with a girl throwing her arms around you in a bone-crushing hug, her pretty face framed by freshly bleached, blonde hair.

"Sol, you're going to annihilate my lungs if you don't let go of me," you say, pretending to struggle to breathe. The girl behind you giggles, wrapping her arms tighter around you.

"I haven't seen you in a whole month and this is how you treat your best friend? Damn Y/N, I'm hurt."

You and Sol nudge each other playfully, setting your bags down and catching up on each other's summers. The daughter of wealthy business owners, she spends her summer break at her grandparents' estate in Jeju, preventing you from meeting each other.

"God, it's been so long," Sol looks at you with a smile, hopping up to seat herself on the empty teacher's desk. The bell hasn't rung yet, resulting in a half empty classroom and the noise of chatter flooding in from the hall and the open windows. She taps at your school uniform's short skirt teasingly. "We look hot, ready for the first day of hell or what?"

You grin, seated on a student's desk with your feet propped up on a chair.

"I wouldn't be here if I wasn't, now would I?"

…

Only half way through the day and you're ready to go home and drop dead on your mattress. You forgot how tiring school is both physically and mentally, especially with the thought of all the homework assignments you've collected today already.

You collapse against the lockers next to Sol's in the back of the classroom, her eyes scanning your tired face for a few seconds before turning to her handheld mirror.

"Is it just me or do you want to die," you say, turning your head to watch Sol touch up her lip tint.

"Not just you girl," she replies, grabbing the sleeve of your uniform and dragging you down the hall. "Now let's go eat. Food heals the soul." Your eyes light up at the mention of lunch, pace quickening through the crowded halls.

Entering the school cafeteria is like watching a drama unfold before your eyes. You either belong to a group or you don't, the sound of laughing and chatting echoing off of your academy's high ceilings.

Right away, your eyes are drawn to the right after hearing an especially familiar laugh.

With a groan, you nudge Sol's arm.

"Fuck my life, truly." She looks in the direction your eyes are so conveniently averted from and laughs like she's never heard a funnier joke in her life. "I can't believe I didn't think to ask him what lunch he has this semester..." you trail off, Sol still laughing next to you — she's one of the only people who know about the interesting brother-sister relationship you two have, or even the mere fact that the infamous Na Jaemin has a twin sister in the first place. She knows you would die in annoyance to even be mentioned in the same sentence as him, especially with the stupid persona he holds up to his classmates.

And then there's Jaemin, sitting with his group of friends in all his glory. You look around, spotting a few girls at surrounding tables nudging each other and giggling about how attractive they are (something that you could definitely go without hearing about).

You tap Sol, nodding to your own group of friends across the cafeteria.

The moment you turn away just happens to be the moment your brother catches sight of you, his smile wiping right off his face. He glances down at the silver bento box you're holding, mouthing something incomprehensible to you with an annoyed expression on his face.

You pause and look down at the box, letting out a groan when you realize that you must have taken Jaemin's lunch instead of yours this morning. You would honestly rather buy lunch from school, but your parents insist on taking leftovers from dinner instead.

Sol glances at all the girls staring at your brother's table, looks at you, and breaks out in a man-eating grin. "Good luck with that," she whispers to you, referring to the first time you're going to be interacting with your idiot of a sibling at school. "I'll be over," she points, "there!" And with that, she leaves you alone to fend for yourself while your friends get free entertainment.

You sigh before begrudgingly making your way over to Jaemin. You can feel the eyes on you, but frankly, you can't bring yourself to care anymore. Jaemin has caused you this much trouble throughout your life already by making you walk to class when he could simply drop you off at the entrance. A little interaction won't hurt.

"—and I know right, she's not even all that. I swear, the nerve of girls these days..." a boy with striking features and blonde streaks through his hair trails off mid sentence, his eyes glancing up and down your figure as you stroll up to your brother.

You stare at Jaemin for a second before tossing him his lunch, the box hitting the table much harder than you intend it to.

"Hey hey, woah there," Jaemin raises his eyebrow at you, "no need to be so aggressive with me."

You frown, gesturing to your lunch in his hands. "Can I have mine now—"

You're interrupted by a hand on your arm. "Who's this Jaemin, a new thing of yours or what?"

You and Jaemin almost gag at the same time. He turns to his friend, incredulous.

"Didn't I tell you that I have a sister? I could've sworn that I've mentioned it before," Jaemin says pointedly at the boy next to him.

"Shush Jaem, I would've remembered if the Na boys had a sister with those genes," he's fast to reply, shooting a grin at you.

"Shut up, Hyuck."

"Her name—"

"Shut up."

"My Kakao—"

"You can shut up now. Before I hit you for real," your brother threatens, raising a fist playfully for added effect.

Mark butts in with a helpful, "Jaem boxes now too."

Your sight unfocuses as Jaemin and his friends continue to add on and bicker among themselves, your eyes wandering to the end of their table.

That's when you catch sight of a familiar mess of white hair, his soft gaze trained on his laughing friends as he fiddles with his silver rings. His uniform jacket is thrown casually over his shoulders, your school's emblemed tie dangling loosely around his collar.

Your eyes widen. The boy from the book shop yesterday. He's my brother's friend?

It's as if you get caught in a trance while staring at him, like you wouldn't be able to physically look away even if you wanted to. He looks simply unreal from where you're standing, the afternoon sun painting shades of gold onto his face as a halo of light seeps through his hair.

You flinch in surprise when his gaze flicks over to you, looking up through his lashes with a hard, unwavering gaze.

Before you can look away, your brother pushes you at the hip and stares up at you with an expression you know all too well: can you leave me the fuck alone now.

You sneak one last glance at the white-haired boy — who’s staring back now — before snatching your lunch from Jaemin’s hands and rushing to your own table. With a groan, you drop your head onto the table as your friends rub your back soothingly.

“Shh, Y/N, I know that must’ve drained you. It’s okay-” Sol laughs, patting your head.

She stops mid sentence when you lift your head up with the most dazed expression she’s ever seen on your face, eyes glazed over and hand trying to hide a smile.

“What happened for you to have a look like that on your face,” Chaeyoung questions, squishing your face between your fingers as you pout at the table.

“Guys,” you start, before letting your head drop down to the table once more. “I think I’m in love.”

…

“What am I even doing,” you mumble to yourself, unlocking the front door with your fingerprint before slipping inside.

You never come home right after school, usually going to the convenience store with your friends or straight to the bookstore to work the evening shift. But, of course, stupid hope has left you with the possibility that he might be at your house today.

Why? Well, your brother may have specifically told you not to come home because he was having friends over for the night. ‘Friends’ means him, and you don’t even know his name yet. You pray that whoever’s-up-there will grant you this in the least.

It had been a pain to get out of the grasp of your prying friends right after school ended, their bombarding questions of, “oh my god, who,” “you better show him to me tomorrow,” and “is he cute,” being too much for you to handle.

It was a blessing that Mrs. Lee had let you off for the day, half of your friends had cram school to occupy them, and the other half had classroom duties as punishment for getting caught drinking at the karaoke bar by the academy director (“I’m just sorry we got caught,” Miyeon had huffed, after trying to convince you that the cheap soju was worth it).

Now you can stay in your room and eavesdrop freely on your brother’s friends as much as you please, and you plan on doing just that.

Touching up your makeup as you lay on your bed, you wait patiently for the familiar rev of a motorcycle entering your house’s gate.

A ding interrupts your train of thought, your phone lighting up beside you.

[My Sol-bear 🫶🫶, 4:39PM] is he here yet

[You, 4:39PM] BRUH WHAT

[You, 4:39PM] HOW DIDYUO EVEN KNOW U PSYCHO

[My Sol-bear 🫶🫶, 4:39PM] ik everything bbg

[My Sol-bear 🫶🫶, 4:40PM] why else would the i-hate-being-at-home Na girly be at home huh

[You, 4:40PM] fuck u bro

[My Sol-bear 🫶🫶, 4:40PM] fuck me yourself

[You, 4:40PM] um bet

[My Sol-bear 🫶🫶, 4:42PM] no bc u better introduce urself to him or i will come over myself and MAKE YOU

[You, 4:42PM] that’s hot

[My Sol-bear 🫶🫶, 4:42PM] Y/N.

[My Sol-bear 🫶🫶, 4:43PM] i’m expecting a marriage date at approximately 8 pm so u better not let me down

Just when you’re about to type out a reply, you hear the familiar whirring of the gate opening before a small click of the front door. Sudden muffled chatter fills the house as you hear your brother enter with his posse in tow, their loud voices and continuous laughter ruining the silence that you had had the pleasure of keeping for exactly ten minutes. You’re pretty sure someone just got shoved against the wall too.

It’s only when they settle in the living room after a while that you decide to make your move, descending slowly down the staircase so as to not make any noise.

You decide to make your grand entrance when Jaemin conveniently gets up from the couch as he talks, heading to the open kitchen to get junk from the fridge. You’re surprised at the number of friends he has over, at least six pairs of eyes following his movements from the living room as he puts drink after drink onto the countertop.

You adjust your sweatpants to sit lower on your waist and fiddle with your top (and yes, you did wear it for your brother’s friend, it took everything to ignore the feminist in you to say you didn’t dress for that man) before moving nonchalantly into everyone’s view, an empty glass in hand that you most definitely did not prepare before-hand.

Jaemin looks up in confusion when his friends go silent, his eyes finally following their gazes to you. You?

“You,” your brother stares at you pointedly, “why are you here.”

You stare at him back.

“Um, why would I not be here? This is my house too, Jaemin. Remember? My name is Y/N. I have the same address as you. I’m your s-i-s-t-e-r,” you roll your eyes, moving to stand beside him at the fridge. He only ignores you in response, shoving you lightly and mumbling a ”move over, will you.”

“God Jaem, you didn’t tell me your sister was here. I would’ve brought flowers and shit,” Donghyuck flirts, moving away from the couch and towards the two of you. You give him a small smile before scanning the couch behind him, face dropping in disappointment when you don’t see your mystery boy.

Where is he?

Jaemin’s other friends, however, are looking at you in curiosity.

“So this is the hot sister,” one boy speaks up first as if coming to a revelation, “I’ve seen you around at school for sure.”

“What the fuck,” Jaemin hisses. “Never say that in front of me again.”

“Wait,” Renjun, who you know from your classes, his eyes perking up as he observes you. “You guys kinda do look alike, Jaem. I can’t believe I never noticed that the only other Na in our class looks like a carbon copy of you.”

You and your brother squint at each other.

“...I don’t see it,” Jaemin speaks up first, shrugging. “Anyway, we’re gonna game for a bit and then order chicken takeout. You want your usual, right?”

You nod and thank your brother before waving goodbye to the boys in your living room, their enthusiastic greetings and waves making your eyes crinkle.

However, just as you turn to go back up the stairs, you run face to face into the same hoodie-clad figure that walked into your shift just a few days ago. His eyes flick down to you as move back a bit, surprised by his sudden proximity. The two of you are so close that you can even smell his cologne, the citrus-y, cedar scent clouding your head.

“Oh Jeno, there you are,” Jaemin barely looks up as he walks over. “Was starting to think you got lost or something. Wouldn’t be surprised,” he mumbles the last part, smirking when Jeno shoots him a glare.

Jeno. I finally have a name to the face.

“Jenoo!” Donghyuck shouts, rushing over to where you stand in front of the said boy.

“You almost missed meeting Jaemin’s sister,” he says enthusiastically, linking his arm with yours before making you wave at Jeno. “The one he was so intent on hiding from us!”

Jeno looks away from his friend to meet your eyes once again, staring at you for what seems like minutes. It’s only after you glance away awkwardly that he mumbles a small “hmm” before making his way to where his friends are engaged in a (very) pointless argument about League. Your gaze follows him as he relaxes into the seat beside Renjun, arm thrown over the back of the couch like he’s in some sort of editorial magazine.

You almost die on the spot.

You also almost forget that Donghyuck is standing oh-so-conveniently next to you, and just happened to see that whole interaction play out. It’s only when you feel a nudge from the boy next to you that you snap out of your daze, just in time to catch Donghyuck’s knowing grin.

“So it’s loverboy, huh?” he teases as you elbow him back. He laughs before leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“Good luck with that one, Na.”

…

You groan into your hands as Sol outright laughs at your misfortune, her head shaking as if she’s just heard the funniest joke of the century.

“He just said ‘hmm’? Jesus Y/N, what did you do to this man,” she asks as you pout at her, the empty bookstore’s AC hum the only sound filling the silence.

You just shrug in response, upset with the fact that Jeno doesn’t have any interest in you in the first place. You could’ve liked any other one of Jaemin’s friends — who, by the way, were all very good-looking and much kinder than you expected for any relation to your brother — but no. You just had to choose the one whose first word to you wasn’t even a word.

You’re still in a mood about the whole thing when Sol gets up to leave for her evening job at a cat café, the dark rain clouds outside and humid air seeping into the shop doing nothing to help you.

After sulking a bit more, you decide to organize the shelves in the back of the store. It’s comfortable; the smell of wood and paper never fails to ease your constantly running thoughts, the soft glow from stained-glass lamps illuminating Mrs. Lee’s timely, leather love-seats situated between each mahogany shelf.

You go down each aisle, pushing spines back into their places and reordering by author name, slowly making your way into the dreaded romance section.

You start at the bottom, blowing dust away from the old books that struggle to be sold to everyday customers. As you make your way up, you notice a splotch of white at the very top shelf in the corner of the store. The darkness that surrounds the space makes the white gleam even brighter, a closer look revealing that it’s the pages of a book that are turned outward, not its spine.

“Wha-” you mumble as you squint at the book whose spine is turned inward. “What kind of idiot…” You trail off, slowly coming to the silent realization that there could only be one person who had wandered off into the shelves of romance this week (and reach that high up).

Jeno.

With a new determination, you grab the shop’s rolling ladder and slowly make your way up to the fabled book. You reach your arm out and snatch it from its place, blowing a thin layer of dust off its cover.

Your eyes scan over its cover: Pride and Prejudice. Pride and Prejudice?

You flip through the book in confusion, pondering why this novel specifically would be so important to him. You almost skip over the tiny splotch of writing on the inner cover, it’s messy handwriting easy to miss as you bring the book up to your face to read it.

[personal copy]

“Is not general incivility the very essence of love.”

Return to same place when done.

You turn the book around in your hands, confused at the words and wondering if it really is Jeno.

Making your way back to your place at the front of the store, you settle down and decide to read it anyway besides your hatred for the genre. With a warm mug of tea and small box of Pepero to keep you company, you find yourself drowning in the world of Jane Austin as the seconds turn to hours.

One exception can’t hurt.

…

You see Jeno in the cafeteria a week after you find the first book, the copy tucked neatly under your arm as you walk with Chaeyoung and Miyeon to your table. You can hear snippets of their conversation as you pass them, your friends giving you a look when they catch sight of Jeno (it was an unfortunate case of, “Y/N, if you don’t tell me which of these boys has you rushing home at the bell everyday I will pour bleach in your koi’s tank and won’t feel sorry about it,” that led to your entire friend group’s incessant teasing whenever Jeno simply breathed in your proximity).

You snap your head around when you hear Donghyuck’s voice above the others, his laugh bringing everyone’s attention to their table.

“Oh my god, Jeno’s reading a fucking romance book right now,” Donghyuck’s mouth drops open, genuinely concerned about the fact that his friend isn’t even the slightest embarrassed to be flipping through the pages of the thin novel. Jeno doesn’t even look up when your brother jokes that he didn’t know his best friend was “this soft.”

You clutch Pride and Prejudice a bit tighter in your arms as you move away from them, mind whirling as the possibility of the book in your hands being Jeno’s increases by the second. You’ve even been seeing him a lot more often at your house and on the weekends, even though he rarely leaves your brother’s gaming setup in the basement; but hey, the fact that he’s even there makes your heart want to drop out of your chest.

…

It’s a cool September afternoon when the next book comes to you, and its random appearance questions everything that you think you’ve figured out so far.

Mrs. Lee has left the bookstore to you once again, refusing to hire any other help for some odd reason; Jeno hasn’t come into the shop since the first time you saw him, so there’s no way he could’ve gotten it into the shop without you noticing — you swear that you have a sixth sense reserved solely for him.

So then how come there’s a book flipped inward smack dab in the middle of the romance section this time, its frayed pages standing out as you stand frozen in front of it?

You can’t help the nerves that bubble up in you as you pull it from off the shelf.

Its velvet cover is a mix of nectar and ambrosia, the sweet smell of sugar wafting across the shop as you bring the thick book to your spot at the front counter. Flipping the cover open, you’re surprised to see a familiar title: Norwegian Wood.

Humming in anticipation, you search through the text to find a certain hand-written message that could possibly serve as an explanation. It’s situated on the last page of the novel this time, the black ink bleeding delicately onto its yellowed page.

[personal copy]

“‘Letters are just pieces of paper,’ I said. ‘Burn them, and what stays in your heart will stay; keep them, and what vanishes will vanish.’”

Burn this book when you’re done with it, or return it here if you don’t; your decision would still speak ten-thousandfold to me.

You gape at the messy hangul’s intent, reading it over and over again before pulling out your own pen and making the split-second decision to write a little message back.

I disagree. Don’t you think you’re taking Murakami’s words a bit too literally here? Sure, sentimental value might always stay with the art’s viewer, but being able to keep personally meaningful pieces will forever be more valuable as a takeaway.

You cap your pen with a huff before slotting the novel back where you found it, its spine turned outwards for your own petty reasoning.

He doesn’t know what he’s talking about, you think to yourself.

…If it’s even Jeno… you add on, disappointed at your new development.

Now that he hasn’t even returned to the shop, could you have gotten the person’s identity wrong this whole time?

…

“Sol! That hurts ass,” you complain, tapping the girl’s thigh in succession as she attempts to curl your hair.

“Shush, babe. Beauty is pain,” she retorts, meeting your eyes through the mirror as she kneels behind you. Your room looks like a teen movie set, makeup sprawled across the floor around your criss-crossed figure as you hold up jewelry to your neck to choose from. “Chae, Miyeon, and Yuna are coming in ten mins to pick us up so if you mess up my masterpiece, I will actually end you.”

You get up from the floor slowly, changing into your going out fit before joining Sol at the floor length mirror.

“Oooh Y/N, we actually look so hot right now,” she exclaims, posing with you for fun before frowning. “Jungwoo better ask me out today at Johnny’s party.”

“He will, he will,” you reassure her, gathering up your purse. “He’s 100% in love with you, and even Jaemin can see it. He literally asked me if you two were a thing.”

Sol looks at you with wide eyes, the sheer excitement in them making you happy too. At least one of you is having luck in their love life.

“Wait, imma run to the bathroom real quick and then we can leave, okay? Can you tell them to wait out front?” Sol nods at you before returning to her phone as you slip into the dark hallway of your quiet house.

After washing your hands quickly, you open the door to a body running right into you, causing you to lose your balance and stumble into the wall.

“Shit,” a voice sounds out, two hands steadying you as you regain reality before your vision finally focuses on the boy in front of you, “you okay? You didn’t hit anything, right?”

You can only stare at Jeno, his concerned tone catching you off guard.

This is the first time he’s actually speaking to me.

“I- yeah. Yeah, I’m good. Are,” you stumble over your words, becoming acutely aware of the fact that his hands are still on your arm and waist, “are you hurt anywhere?”

He shakes his head before mumbling another apology, his deep voice being the only thing you can focus on.

“Jaem’s downstairs and we’re doing some project,” he rambles a bit, taking his hand off your arm to brush his hair back. You can’t help but feel disappointed at the lack of touch, but the shyness he’s displaying completely catches you off guard.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Jeno. You practically live in our basement,” you reply, lips pulling up into a small smile. For the very first time, he smiles back at you.

“I’m sorry if I scared you, Y/N.”

And with a dozen more awkward apologies, you rush out to Yuna’s car five minutes late with a warm blush on your cheeks that hadn’t been there before.

…

By the time the third book appears, you’ve already anticipated it enough to clear your schedule for the afternoon. Determined to finish it as fast as possible, you bring the copy of 엄마를 부탁해 (Please Look After Mom) home with you to read on the comfort of your own house.

There’s a long letter written out in the front cover of the novel, it’s now familiar handwriting making you focus on their words and opinions that seem to know exactly how you think. You smile down at the phrases they use, the little references from the previous book appearing every so often.

Hours pass by as you emerge yourself in the world of So-Nyo, your pen scratching out every thought you have and every question that flickers through your mind. Your reply to their last message takes up both covers this time, your lips pursed as you focus intently on your writing.

With your headphones fit snugly around your head, you startle when Jaemin appears four inches from your face.

“Jesus Christ Jaem- what was the reason,” you push his face away, your line of sight just missing the fact that his best friend has just taken the seat next to you on the living room couch.

You startle a second time when a hand taps your shoulder, your eyes widening when you see Jeno offering you a glass of water from your side.

“You haven’t got up in a while,” he says softly, wrapping your fingers around the glass.

You’re surprised he’s even noticed, the sweet gesture catching Jaemin by surprise as well. Your brother looks between the two of you suspiciously, narrowing his eyes when he zeros in on Jeno staring at the book in your hands.

“That’s not weird at all…” he says, still put off by the foreign look on his best friend's face. “Anyway, you going to our party today? Sol told me that you guys were coming.”

You almost choke on your water, looking up at your brother in confusion.

“Me? She said that we- what?” You stumble over your words, surprised — you really shouldn’t be at this point — that she was going to yet another party for the second night in a row.

Your brother holds back laughter at your reaction, knowing Sol and her tendencies all too well by now.

“Uh huh, it’s at Jeno’s house this time,” he adds on as you turn your head to give a questioning look to said boy. He just shrugs, face nonchalant while Jaemin is visibly elated. “His parents literally left like six cases of beer in their cellar. What do you expect us to do, not make use of it?”

The look you give your brother has him sticking his tongue out at you, leaning over to tap your forehead.

Before you can reciprocate, Jeno hands you a thin pen, its silver plating glittering in the light. You look up at him in confusion.

“Yours is running out of ink,” he points out to you, referring to the pen laying in your open book. The last parts of your writing have faded, your mouth open in an “oh” as you realize that he’s right.

You think about your next action carefully.

“Jeno,” you say, leaning a little closer. He tenses at your voice saying his name, something he hopes you don’t process. “Thank you for noticing.”

That one line seems so much deeper than it does at surface level, the two of you sharing a moment of mutual understanding. You feel like you haven’t even had a proper conversation with this man, yet there’s definitely some sort of tension here that wasn’t there before.

Jeno gives you a small grin before getting up to follow Jaemin to the basement, his leather bomber on his shoulders and backpack in tow as he spends another one of his evenings in the Na household.

…

“No. Way,” you exclaim, dropping your bag and books on the ground of your foyer, Jaemin next to you doing the same as you both gape at the figure in front of you.

You rush forward as he opens his arms, your “Jaehyun!” ringing through the house as he pulls you into his chest. His familiar warmth relaxes you immediately, your arms still latched around his as Jaemin comes over to greet your older brother.

“Hyung! Why didn’t you tell us you were coming back from uni already,” Jaemin frowns, walking into the kitchen where your parents sit and watch their childrens’ reunion with adoration.

“Don’t be upset, Jaem,” Jaehyun ruffles his younger brother’s hair, “Yonsei had an early break so I wanted to surprise you guys before I go back to Seoul.”

Your twin lights up at the word Yonsei, his dream school triggering an immediate response as he begs Jaehyun for more details about his life at university. The conversation continues until dinner, the two of you elated to have him back home for even a little bit.

Jaehyun’s dimples make an appearance as you and Jaemin argue over who gets to sit with who for dinner, the latter huffing when you refuse to let go of Jaehyun’s arm.

Your older brother was like a lifeline when you were younger, always acting as a peacemaker whenever you fought with Jaemin or over-stressed yourself from school. Both of you look up to him so much, his kind nature and ability to get along with anybody acting as a guide for how to survive high school. The age gap of four years was never an issue for the three of you, and you got along as any normal siblings would with your own ups and downs.

You lean your head on Jaehyun’s shoulder after dinner, his presence alone comforting you greatly as Jaemin leaves to attend to the front door. You don’t even look up when you hear two new voices in the house, their footsteps getting louder as they reach where you and your older brother are.

Jaemin observes closely as Jeno and Donghyuck enter his living room, the former’s expression twitching in the slightest that he almost misses it completely.

It’s only when Jaehyun mumbles a confused, “why is he glaring at me,” that you accidentally meet the dark eyes of Jeno, who’s staring intently at your brother with a look you’ve never seen on him before.

Jaemin shakes his head with a smile, nudging Jeno in the process.

“Chill bro, that’s my older brother-”

“That’s Jaehyun? The Jaehyun?” Donghyuck interrupts with a sense of awe, situating himself next to your amused older brother before bombarding him with questions (you pretend you don’t hear the “how the hell did you hack the administrative office’s computer system? And find a way to get edibles through room check? You’re a fucking legend at school, you know,” from Donghyuck).

Jeno’s face visibly relaxes when he hears the name Jaehyun, tossing his bag next to his friends’ before making his way to the rest of you.

Was he… jealous?

You shake the thought from your head. No way.

Yet you can feel Jeno’s eyes on you as Donghyuck talks your brother’s ear off, while you refuse to meet his stare. You think you might combust, and your possible delusions certainly do nothing to help you.

A ding from your phone comes at the perfect time, the “We’ll break down your door if you don’t open it in five, four, three…” text from Chaeyoung giving you the excuse to jump up and drag your friends inside the house.

After your friends introduce themselves to Jaehyun — and raise their eyebrows at you after seeing the infamous Jeno on your living room couch — they take over your bedroom upstairs and trifle through your closet. You just let them, throwing your exhausted self onto your bed.

“We’re heading over to Jeno’s first, ‘kay?” Jaemin yells up the stairs. You shout an incoherent sound back, closing your eyes immediately after.

After an hour of fighting sleep while your friends get ready, they force you into a tight-fitting top and skirt and fuss over how many guys will definitely obsess over you tonight. You’re frankly after only one person, and his recent actions confuse you to the point that your brain hurts every time you think about him.

...

When you arrive at Jeno’s estate, the party’s already in full swing. You can see people stumble around in the front lawn, the heavy bass of music filling the entire block as Yuna links her arm with yours to pull you along to the entrance.

It’s crowded and hot as you enter, Sol being stolen along the way by her new boyfriend. The sound is deafening, with Johnny controlling the music in the corner and people all over each other, their figures spread throughout the Lee property. You don’t even see any of Jaemin’s friends, their tall statures no match for the sheer number of people there are.

“Holy shit,” you hear Miyeon say. “Did they invite the entirety of Korea or what?”

You finally get an answer after at least ten minutes of mingling around, when you finally see a truly familiar face. Donghyuck’s signature smirk appears in front of you and Yuna as you head towards the kitchen for drinks.

“Crazy right?” He laughs, the brown liquid in his solo cup sloshing around as he drags the two of you to the counter. “We weren’t expecting this many, but Jaehyun said that we should throw a big one if we’re gonna throw one at all.” You roll your eyes at your older brother’s classic antics; you can even imagine the exact tone of his voice as he relayed that to Donghyuck earlier in the day.

“Just big?” Yuna’s eyes go comically wide, turning around to survey the number of bodies in the kitchen alone. “Nah, this is like fucking Project X, Hyuck.”

His proud grin alone tells you everything you need to know.

You lose Donghyuck a few minutes later, his dark red hair hard to catch as he weaves between guests to seemingly greet them all. Yuna pours you her own concoction, your eyes following her movements with worry as she pours three times more parts soju to cider, the alcohol content making you dizzy already.

“I’m a lightweightt, Yuna,” you remind her.

“Y/N, just let loose tonight, hm? You never drink more than a few shots and this party is way too hype for you to not be drunk for it,” she sing-songs, pushing the drink towards you. “Bottoms up.”

With a weary look, you down the sweet mixture in one go and cringe as it leaves a bitter aftertaste.

Without even a moment to pause, you let your friend pull you towards another group of people from your school in the next room. The alcohol reaches your head fast, your face warming as you’re handed another shot from a classmate. Time goes by too fast for you to keep track, your motions blurry and eyes hazy as you get pulled along to new locations every few minutes.

The clock reads 1am, and two rounds of truth or dare, one game of paranoia, and another tense match of beer pong later is when you’re finally able to get away from all the activities. You take a seat by yourself on the staircase, leaning your head against the wood railing to stop it from pounding so much. Focusing on your breathing, you pray that the hangover that will greet you tomorrow morning will be a tame one.

“Need some company?” a sudden voice offers in front of you. You will your eyes to focus in the dim lights on the person’s face, but all you can hear is his heavy breathing as he leans closer to you. The smell of marijuana on his breath makes you lean back, uncomfortable at his advances.

“No, thank you,” you turn your head away, trying to show your disinterest as he places his hand on the stair next to you. The smoke from his breath rises in rings in front of him, fogging up your vision even more.

“Come on pretty, we’ll have fun,” he promises, moving too close as your personal bubble decreases by the second. He grabs your arm and tightens his grip around your wrist. “I know you want it-”

“Lay off, man,” a voice sounds out from behind you, a dark figure coming down the stairs to move between you and the stranger protectively. “She already said no.”

Jeno.

You don’t know what expression he’s given the man, but it sure is enough to make him back away. He gives Jeno a glare before reluctantly letting go of your arm.

Offering a hand out to you, you let Jeno support your weight as the two of you make your way up to the quiet third floor, the party still at its high downstairs. He helps you into a room at the end of the hall, and that’s when you realize it’s his room.

He seats the two of you on his bed before returning with a glass of water.

“Drink,” he orders softly, wanting you to sober up a bit before attempting to talk at all.

You sit in silence with him for a while, your quiet breaths and low hum of a record player spinning in the background being the only noise to fill the space as he watches you.

“I’m drunk,” you say to no one in particular after a long stretch of silence, your little frown making Jeno look at you in amusement.

“I’m glad you’re aware,” he deadpans. “Have more of this.”

You just look at the water in his hands, a weird sense of déja vu overcoming you as you recall a memory of this same exchange happening just a few weeks ago.

“Okay, dad,” you grumble, the sudden surge of liquid confidence showing that you already know you’ll regret in the morning. “You’re not my real dad.”

“At least you’re coherent enough to recognize that,” Jeno snorts, lifting an eyebrow as you finish the water anyway.

“I didn’t know you could use big words like that,” you mutter, getting distracted by drawing little designs on his bed comforter. “You only ever say like ten words max to me.”

Jeno’s eyes soften at your words, not even being able to reply before you change the subject.

“Why aren’t you down there with everyone else,” you ask, watching his freshly washed hair drop little rivulets of water onto his hoodie. They dampen the fabric, the little cross around his neck just barely visible underneath. “It’s your house.”

“Not really my thing,” he mumbles, relaxing on the bed next to you and leaning his head against the wall. You nod in understanding, mirroring his position before falling into a stagnant silence once again. Your eyes close on their own, a sudden fatigue overtaking your body. “You- you can rest here for a while, if you want. I’m just finishing a paper for class anyway,” he offers suddenly, turning to look at you.

“For real? One of Jaemin’s friends doing homework on a Friday night? I’m impressed, Jeno,” You yawn, tilting your head at him.

“For real.” His shy smile and averted gaze going unnoticed by you. “I’ll get a more comfy shirt for you from my mom’s closet,” he adds, making sure you’re okay by yourself before leaving you alone.

You take this chance to look around, your tired eyes scanning his room. His decor is unexpected, the dark and chic aura he usually carries not reflected at all in his personal space. The room is neat, a plethora of old film posters and polaroids lining the wall with his guitar hanging proudly next to his bed. Little letter blocks spell out the characters in Jeno’s name on his desk, the rest of the space being taken up by stationary and picture frames of his friends and family. There’s a record player a few feet away from you, the library of vinyls taking up the whole bottom shelf of his bookcase.

You gasp. The bookcase.

Your mouth opens in awe as your eyes scan the plethora of titles, with genres ranging from decade-old biographies to the fabled romance novels that your brother constantly teases him about. Model cars sit in a glass case at the top, right next to a stack of books that take up the width of the shelf.

Wait.

You squint your eyes to read the spines of those in the stack, your brain sobering up in seconds as you register what’s in front of you.

Pride and Prejudice. Norwegian Wood.엄마를 부탁해 (Please Look After Mom).

“No way,” you breathe out, leaning off the bed so you can make sure your eyes aren’t deceiving you.

“I’m back,” Jeno comes in suddenly, closing the door behind him. “my mom didn’t really have any shirts I thought you would like, so here’s mine instead. It was just washed like-”

He pauses, knowing something’s wrong when you don’t answer him. Looking up, he follows your gaze to the top of his bookshelf.

“You’re,” you swallow, getting up, “the one who- it was you?”

Jeno stops in his tracks, the forgotten shirt hanging limply from his arm as you make eye contact with each other.

He wants to deny it, say it wasn’t him who left little notes for you in the bookshop whenever he saw you feeling down, but he just can’t. He can’t do that to you.

With a sigh, he seats himself on the hardwood floor and just stares at the books in a contemplative silence.

“I think I knew who you were long before you ever noticed me,” Jeno finally confesses after a few minutes, the usually confident boy glancing out the window with a new sense of bashfulness.

Your heart beats faster at his words: Lee Jeno? Knew… me?

“I’d figured out that you were Jaemin’s sister long before he told us. He’d accidentally left his phone unlocked when I was over one afternoon last year; you and him are his lockscreen, you know,” he flicks his eyes over at you as you sink down to sit on the floor across from him, this new wave of information taking time to process in your brain. “To be honest, I started to notice you everywhere; at school, at the noraebang, even getting off of Jaem’s motorcycle one morning like a block away from the academy.”

You roll your eyes at the last part, Jeno’s added commentary of “why does he even do that,” causing you to nod your head fast in agreement.

“You gotta tell Jaemin that that whole ploy was completely pointless,” you say, shaking your head at just one example of your brother’s incredibly stupid ideas. Jeno laughs at your indignant expression, obviously familiar with said stupid ideas.

“And then,” Jeno continues, resting his arm just behind you against the bed frame, “you got that job at the bookstore downtown during the summer,” You smile subconsciously, just the thought of your second home filling you with warmth. “Mrs. Lee is my grandmother, you know.”

You turn to him incredulously, mouth open in shock.

“You’re kidding, Jeno,” you say, eyes wide as you stare at him. The gears in your head working at 100 kilos an hour, you finally understand the one thing that’s been living in the corner of your mind for the past few weeks. “So it was you who put the books there for me to find. You have the keys to the shop too, don’t you?”

Your questioning draws a sheepish grin out of the boy, and that’s when you realize that your conclusion is spot on.

“I couldn’t help it,” he continues, leaning closer to you. “I just couldn’t introduce myself to you in person when it actually came to doing it. And, on top of that, Jaemin would absolutely murder me. You’ve seen his reaction to Donghyuck’s flirting, and he’s not even serious half the time.”

He sighs, looking at his lap.

“Grandma says you’re the only reason why her shop is still open, and I just wanted to be able to communicate with you in the one way I know I can.”

You nod slowly, understanding Jeno more and more as he talks. Literature. He knows his way around literature.

“And then we actually met, and I really froze up that time,” he sighs, putting his fingers up to his temple in frustration. “I couldn’t even say anything to you.”

“Oh my god, Jeno,” you say, “was that what the ‘hmm’ was about when I first ran into you in our kitchen?” He nods, cheeks dusted with a faint blush. “That was truly a humbling experience, I literally told Sol about it and she laughed at me.”

Jeno groans in embarrassment as he throws his head against the bed, arm covering his face so he doesn’t have to relive that moment.

“You looked really pretty that night though, you know,” he mumbles through his arm, laughing when you bring your hands up to your face in mortification. He reaches out to gently take your hands away, his fingers circling lightly around your wrists. “It’s true.”

Jeno pauses just a few inches away from you, his gaze locked on yours as you both still in tandem. You could lean forward just a little and your noses would be touching. Before either one of you can move, however, the blaring sound of your phone’s screeching ringer goes off.

You can hear the huff of disappointment from Jeno as you pick up the call, putting the phone up to your ear.

“Y/N, where the fuck are you,” Sol’s voice shouts into the speaker. You can hear the bass of the party’s music blast through her side of the call, stifling her voice as she strains to listen for a response from your side. “Jungwoo’s gonna drive us home ‘cuz he’s a freak and somehow still sober.” You hear a faint “shut up, you know you love me,” in response.

“Give me two minutes and I’ll be down.”

You hang up the call quickly before turning your attention back to Jeno, who’s no longer beside you.

He stands in front of his bookshelf with his back facing you, thumbing through the novels on his shelf until he finds the one he’s looking for. He holds out the book for you to take, a bright expression on his face as he waits for your reaction.

“What’s this?” you ask, taking the novel between your hands and reading the cover.

Jeno makes you keep his copy of Agamemnon, your questioning eyes left unanswered as he pushes you out of his room with a smile.

“Tell me about it on Monday, yeah? Wanna hear your thoughts.”

…

Weirdly enough, it didn’t stop at just Agamemnon. Jeno started bringing you a book from his personal bookshelf every week, his excuses running along the lines of “I thought that you might like this” to a blatant “I wanted to see you.” Your heart still fluttered whenever you opened the front cover to a small, hand-written message from the boy, his intellectual fountain never running dry when it came to discussing his opinions with you.

Even Jaemin started noticing the shift in your relationship, smacking Jeno on the arm when he would accidentally die in their game from staring at your figure on the couch. He would make sure to visit your room before leaving for the evening, stopping for ten, twenty, thirty minutes more than expected.

And with time, it turned out that Jeno and you had more in common than you originally thought. Your love for music had you listening to his playlists later in the night than you’d like to admit, a playlist of yours dedicated specifically to his recommendations called J<3. You’d rather drop dead than let him see the sappy name though.

Your friends had noticed the change too, your occasional visits to your brother’s table in the cafeteria resulting in incessant teasing from your friends.

“100,000 won he’ll ask her out tomorrow,” Miyeon exclaims, putting her hand down on the caf table with determination.

“Nah girl, you’ve got it all wrong. 100,000 he’ll do it today,” Sol counters, a knowing look on her face as you hide behind your backpack in embarrassment. She may or may not have also run into Jeno buying a bouquet of flowers on the way to school, the said boy silencing her from blabbing with a tteokbokki bribe.

You secretly hope they’re onto something, the possibility consuming your thoughts as you push your way into the Lee bookshop for the afternoon.

What you didn’t expect to see was an untitled book sitting in the middle of your work space, its crimson binding setting apart from any other you’ve seen before. Before you can flip through it in curiosity, however, you notice a small catalog number pasted on its spine.

“Huh,” you mutter, “B612… B612…” you make your way down the shelves until you get to the B600s, placing you coincidently in the romance section of the store. “B610… here!”

You can feel the excitement bubbling up in you as you notice the slot where the book should be is already filled, an unfamiliar title greeting you. Pulling it from its place, you flip it open.

Giving a new meaning to romance.

— J.

A small tap on your shoulder causes you to turn around in surprise, the familiar eye-smile of Lee Jeno meeting you face to face.

“Hey,” he whispers, taking the book from your hands. You let him move in closer, your back hitting the wall before he reaches up to tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“Hi,” you smile up at him, the cold jewelry adorning his fingers clinking slightly as he rests a hand beside your waist.

“I was wondering if you’d like to go stargazing with me tonight,” he proposes, eyes flickering between yours as he awaits a response.

“I’d love to, Jeno,” you answer. “Definitely not the same stargazing where you have a bouquet of my favorite flowers ready, right?” you add on, a teasing lilt in your voice as Jeno’s face morphs into one of betrayal.

“Sol is pure evil,” he utters, eyes lost as you giggle at his expression.

He focuses back on you as the sound of your voice rings in his ears, the sight of your happy face leading his line of vision to your lips. You barely notice until he’s already a hair away, his warm breath shocking you back into reality. Jeno’s eyes meet yours, as if asking for silent permission.

You don’t know who leans in first, but it doesn’t matter when you feel his hands slip behind your waist and pull your body into his, slotting your lips together with a gentleness that takes you by surprise. Your arms come up to rest behind his neck as his mouth moves in sync with yours. You feel like you’ve been waiting for this moment for forever, the satisfaction of it finally happening driving your eagerness as you move impossibly closer to him.

Jeno tastes like candied citrus, sugar-tainted coffee and everything in between — he follows your movements easily, reciprocating with equal and innocent desire. His lips chase yours as you tilt your head for him, not stopping until you force yourself to take a breath.

He leans his forehead against yours, his touch soft as his hand brushes against your cheek lovingly. Pressing one last sweet kiss against your mouth, he reaches around you to grab the unnamed book that had led you here in the first place.

“For our story,” Jeno smiles, fitting the leather-bound into your arms.

Ours.

…

xoxo

#jeno #jeno x reader #jeno fic #nct fic #nct dream #nct #nct u #nct dream fic #nct au #jeno au #nct dream au #nct imagine #jeno imagine #nct dream imagines #nctau #lee jeno #jeno fluff #jeno nct

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ssa-atlas-alvez · 3 months

Note

after reading “Allergies (Not Really)” I CRAVED more Reader and Mia, and I brainstormed many ideas until I thought of the perfect one.

A couple years later, there’s a case in the town Mia now stays at. Reader and Hotch were talking to the principal at Mia’s school and Mia was walking in the halls, spotted Reader, and immediately ran to him, hugging him. Reader was shocked, but quickly recognized the girl and nearly starts crying.

(If you choose to do this, you can add/get rid of anything :D)

A/N: Annnd I'm back. I think? Anyways, this has been in the making for yonks so hopefully you enjoy it. Also, sorry if you've been tagged twice I kind of just went crazy and made sure everyone was definitely tagged aha.

Description: Mia and reader reunite, chaos ensues.

Warnings: gun shots, unsubs go to the school, guns, schools targeted, criminal minds levels of violence (maybe even on the slightly tamer side).

Taglist: @xweirdo101x @xdark-acadamiax @ara-a-bird @heidss @chubbyboyinflannel @pendragon-writes @migwayne @bigolgay @technikerin23 @supercriminalbean @honestlycasualarcade @caffeine-mess @1s3v3n1 @oddmiles @kevyeen @stealing-kneecaps @criminalskies @woodandwaxwings @wizardmon3 @aphroditeslovr @ducks118 @azeal-peal @13thdoctor-run @introvertpan84 @goth-boi-atlas @iliketozoneout @pinxeajin @wizardmon3 @aphroditeslovr @winterwitchxxfan @introvertpan84 @iliketozoneout @percyorigins @logicalhorror

"(Y/N), you're with me, we're heading to the school," Hotch says and you nod. That didn't seem too bad. You both headed there, talking to the principal for a while, trying to gather the facts, gathering everything the principal could offer in relation to the case. You suspected that the unsub that was attacking the students was a previous student here (or possibly multiple previous students).

Mia's eyes widen when she spots you in the corridor, dropping her bag, she races towards you.

You stumble on impact, confusion covering your face, "Wha-?"

She looks up at you as she quickly wipes her eyes, "Texas?"

"Mia?!" Your eyes widen, "Holy-" You cut yourself off, reminding yourself that you were in a school. Mia doesn't say anything, simply hugging you tighter and you follow suit, trying to ignore the stinging in your eyes and the lump beginning to form in the back of your throat.

She grins up at you, seeing your eyes red rimmed, "Let me guess, allergies?"

"Yep." You answered with a nod.

A boy jogs up to the pair of you, holding a bag in his right hand in addition to his backpack. "Mia you... ran off... so fast..." The boy gasps out, placing his free hand on his hips, face flushed. "Nearly.... trampled to... death..."

Mia rolls her eyes, "You're so dramatic," She laughs and the boy shoots her a grin.

"But it was good acting though."

"Mediocre at best," Mia teases.

"Who's this?" You ask Mia, turning to the boy stood next to her.

"This is my boyfriend, Jake," She smiles and you give her a soft smile before turning to Jake (the smile quickly disappearing). "Jake, this is the FBI agent I met when, you know..."

"Nice to meet you, Sir," Jake says, giving you a small smile, "Mia's told me a lot about you."

"I'm sure you're a nice kid," You said slowly, choosing your words carefully. "But if you hurt her, I have a gun n I ain't afraid to use it,"

"(Y/N), you can't go around threatening people," Hotch said, sighing deeply.

"It's merely a warnin',"

"Okay, chill your beans, Texas," Mia huffs, "Jake's a nice guy, so just chill,"

"I'm just sayin'-"

"Chill, Texas." Mia said, crossing her arms before she furrows her eyebrows, "What are you doing here anyway?"

"Recent murders," You said, "BAU got called in,"

"That makes sense," Jake nodded slightly.

"How about you? You have anyone special?" Mia grins as your cheeks tint pink. "Oh my god you do?! Who are they?!"

"You remember Agent Jareau?" When Mia nods, you continued, "She and I are... courtin',"

"Courting?" Mia snorts, "So you're dating?! How's that going?"

"'S goin' good," You said with a small nod, "But I ain't 'bout to talk to a kid about my datin' life,"

Mia rolls her eyes, "You know I'm not a kid, right?"

"Nah, you're still a kid," You replied and she huffed slightly.

A few days had passed, everything was fine until Hotch sent you back to the school to check in to see if the principal had thought of anything new that would aid the investigation when everything went…tits up.

There was, in fact, a group of unsubs and, after you had made your way to the library. It was a relatively small library but a library nonetheless.

You press your hand firmly against the steadily bleeding wound on your stomach, what with the gun pressed to your head and the threats of the unsub shooting a student, you force yourself to stay still. You could take them all and you weren't good to any of them dead.

The most you can do is talk, try to distract them long enough for the team to breach. "You've got me, surely that's enough?" Are the words that pool out of your mouth.

"Why would that be enough?"

"Can I reach into my back pocket to grab my ID?" The unsub nods, the other's finger close to the trigger, just in case. You reach behind you with your least bloody hand, fishing your badge from your back pocket. "I'm SSA (Y/N), I work for the FBI as a part of the Behavioural Analysis Unit."

"Well, well, well, we bagged ourselves an FBI agent!" The leader cheers, you watch out of the corner of your eye as Mia jumps, clinging on to Jake's hand like a lifeline.

"Let the kids go." You say, "They'll be more willin' to cooperate with you."

"Oh, we don't want their cooperation." He sneers, "We want to cause as much pain and suffering as possible before we go out. Now... who should we start with?" His eyes glide across the room before they land on Mia. "You. Come here."

"Hey, no, leave the kids out of this-" Your head snaps to the side as the butt of the gun collides with your head.

You watch as Jake moves in front of her. "I'll take her place."

"No, Jake-"

Jake shoots her a soft smile before shaking his head, "It's alright."

"Aw, how sweet." The unsub taunts. Jake walks forward until he's in front of the unsub.

You stagger to your feet, "Why don't you stop bein' pathetic and targettin' kids, huh?" You raise an eyebrow, "What is it, you that weak that you can only ass'rt dominance over kids?"

He points the gun and you force yourself to stand, tackling him to the floor. When his gun clatters, you reach for it, aiming it and taking the unsub’s out, one by one.

The gun shoots as you had tackled him to the group, piercing Jake's stomach. When you tackled the unsub to the floor, he had squeezed the trigger on instinct. You manage to grab the gun, shooting him, and then his friends, one by one. They're sluggish to react, not having expected this.

And soon enough, they're all down. You go to them, one by one to take their weapons. You then turn to the students to make sure they're all alright. Your eyes immediately shoot to Mia, and the figure on the ground next to her. You stagger to them, dropping to your knees.

You quickly wipe one hand down your jeans, cleaning the blood off it as much as you can before you push down against Jake's stomach to stem the bleeding.

"Just hold on,” You give him a reassuring smile before you turn to Mia, “Mia, you need to run down the hall, let people know we're in here."

"But Jake-"

"I've got him, you need to get help,"

Mia nods before she rushes off.

"Jake?" You shake him ever so slightly and his eyes flutter open to look up at you, "Mia's gone to get you some help, you just need to hold on," Jake gave a shaking nod.

"Mia-?"

"Is absolutely fine. You did good kid, real good." You give him a small smile, pressure still on the wound.

"Thanks," Jake bites out, grinding his teeth in pain.

"And hey, you're taking this really well. I know grown men who cry for their Mamas," You say, giving him a reassuring smile.

Jake huffs a small laugh, wincing slightly. And soon enough, Mia runs back in with some medics and your team.

You look up at them, "they're all down, gsw. Only Jake here is injuried, I believe." You say.

Hotch raises an eyebrow, "And yourself," He says.

You shake your head, "'M fine, sir,"

"Liar," Is all Hotch replies with. You huff, "Don't even try to argue it. You're both going to the hospital."

Turning, you look at Jake and decide not to argue. You give a short nod.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #emily prentiss #david rossi #jennifer jareau #x male reader #male reader #cowboy reader #x reader #x cowboy reader #jj x reader #bau x reader #bau x male reader #reader #bau x cowboy reader

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llamamomo · 7 months

Text

Tsutey lives and become spider's adopted dad

So tsutey lives but was badly hurt. His spine was shot (like Jake) and he needed to recover at Hell's Bridge for a while under human supervision as they need to dig the bullet out of him.

Tsutey still gave away his position as the leader of Omatikaya to Jake because Neytiri is mated to him, and Tsutey himself felt he could not lead well due to his injuries.

Jake declines and insisted to be a placeholder until Tsutey recovered enough to return to the people.

So Tsutey pissed and depressed over being hurt and surrounded by humans wasn't the most social. Every human stirred clear of him except for one.

Norm.

The poor scientist is running himself wreck to keep up with the recovery of the humans, aid in the Omatikaya warrior's injuries and salvaging remaining supplies and research. He is also one of the few humans that Tsutey tolerates to treat him. So he is also the Navi's main carer. All of it he could handle with sufficient caffeine.

With one exception.

A human baby. A baby they found in the midst of chaos, hidden in a drawer.

Norm loves kids. Loves their tiny hands, and their weird garble. But he just did not have anytime for the baby during the day. The other humans are also busy and so the baby was strapped onto Norm's chest during the day, as the scientist do his errands.

The baby loves Tsutey. He made grabby hands to the Navi and cried whenever they had to leave. Tsutey also developed a soft spot for the tiny human and start to look forward to the pair's visits.

TBC?

#avatar spider #awotw spider #miles socorro #miles spider socorro #spider socorro #tsutey #tsu'tey avatar #norm spellman #tsutey adopts spider au

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sbdskate · 10 months

Text

Laws Of Attraction (Part 5) - DR x lawyer!fem!reader

Summary: McLaren is in breach of contract, dr3 hires a lawyer to deal with the aftermath. Tropes ensue. Slow burn. Enemies(kind of) -> Friends/colleagues -> Lovers

Pairing: lawyer!fem!reader x Daniel Ricciardo

Warnings: language, angst, mature themes

Word Count: 4,371

A/N: In a shocking turn of events, this is in fact not the last part. I really wanted to put something out there this week but I’m still not quite finished with the last bit of the story. That being said, I think I found a good break point. I’m not even going to jinx myself by saying the next part is going to be the last, so TBD. Thank you again for your support. Please don’t be a ghost reader, and please feel free to comment or DM with any positive or constructive feedback. Enjoy!

You woke up the next morning feeling refreshed. Perhaps that was your fatal flaw all along. The entire time you spent trying and failing to suppress and divert your feelings for the driver, you would have been better served leaning into them and letting them go in a controlled space.

In clearing the air with Daniel, you felt a weight lifted. You were still shocked by the revelation that the feelings were mutual at least in part, but there was comfort and stability in the understanding that had been reached. The lightness allowed you to finally stand in your confidence and share in the excitement of the next phase of negotiations. The season would be over in less than a month, with only two races left including Brazil. You were grateful for the light at the end of the tunnel.

You discreetly made your way to Red Bull hospitality on Thursday morning, bright and early in Sao Paolo before the chaos of media day began. There was only an admin there who greeted you showed you around. You made yourself comfortable in the empty kitchen area, where it was immediately obvious the difference in resources. It felt opulent yet comforting, especially compared to the aggressive orange and sparse theme of McLaren. Then again, spending any excessive time around McLaren hospitality or their garage nowadays just made you depressed and resentful.

It was early, even for you, and you desperately needed to caffeinate before the meeting. You saw the coffee machine, but no mugs in sight. You began opening drawers and cupboards in search of a vessel, cursing Christian Horner in your head. You finally found them, but of course they were on one of the upper shelves. You strained your body to extend as far as it would go, everything you needed just out of reach. While adjusting your balance on your tiptoes, you felt a warm body press against you and a shadow of an arm reaching over you. You closed your eyes and sharply inhaled, relishing the pressure on your back and the smell of familiar cologne. You opened your eyes again when he peeled away from you.

“I think you were looking for this?” Daniel handed you a mug. You took it, feeling your fingers brush again. The epiphany you had earlier was dispelled in an instant. Engaging in self pleasure may have acted as a momentary release, but it did not subdue the feelings that had taken firm root over the last few months. Masturbation was simply a light pruning for the sturdy tree that now grew in your garden that refused to be moved by earthquakes or hurricanes.

“I could’ve gotten it,” you grumbled avoiding eye contact. You had told yourself you had no reason to feel awkward about the other night, but you felt yourself shrinking in his presence nonetheless. His voice went up several decibels and he batted his eyes to mock you.

“Good morning, Daniel! Thanks so much for helping me! Good morning to you too, no problem, so happy I could help.” You rolled your eyes.

“Good morning. I promise I’ll be nicer in ten minutes once I’ve had my coffee.” You haphazardly raised your empty mug. He raised his hands and backed away, a small smirk on his face, but did not leave. He found a seat elsewhere in the kitchen, and you felt his eyes on your back as you went about your business.

You locked eyes when you turned around with a full cup. He innocently smiled and waved, while you forced an aggressive smile back. Leaning against the counter, you took a few sips of coffee without breaking eye contact. After a few minutes you joined him.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi.”

“Are you done being a cunt?”

“Are you done being a douche canoe?” He snorted.

“I guess not.”

“Likewise.” You paused. “Sorry. I wasn’t expecting you to be here so early before the meeting.”

“Yeah, I don’t know. Me neither. I’m excited, I think. And a little nervous.” He looked like a child on his first day of school, fidgety and unable to contain the energy requiring release. He couldn’t help the growing smile on his face. It was contagious, and you quickly found yourself smiling too.

“You should be – excited! Not nervous,” you quickly clarified. He looked down while he continued to bounce his knee.

“What if I make the wrong choice again?” he timidly whispered, though it could have been a question directed at you or the universe. It was no secret that many thought him leaving Red Bull in 2018 was the worst professional decision Daniel Ricciardo ever made, his short stint with Renault followed by his experience with McLaren as evidence. However, hindsight is 20/20. Perhaps he had too much hubris at the time, but he very validly thought he was being forced into a second driver position. How could he have known the series of unfortunate events that would follow? You did not fight the urge to hold his hand this time, gently placing yours on top of his in the middle of the table as you leaned in.

“There is no wrong choice this time,” you whispered back.

You truly believed that Daniel was in a win-win situation. Mercedes was a well-oiled, professional machine. The relationship there would be a symbiotic one. You thought they could help ground and focus Daniel, while Daniel could improve their public image and perhaps allow them to shed their somewhat stuffy, mechanical persona. Moreover, it would represent a clean slate with a new team. Conversely, you couldn’t deny how poetic a return to Red Bull would be. The place where Daniel spent so many years at the beginning of his career, it would be a momentous homecoming.

The Red Bull kitchen was quiet and empty. He looked at your hand. You were about to pull away but he lightly took hold of it before you could.

“Thanks,” he said in a soft voice to match the soft smile that graced his features.

“Of course. You know I’m always here for you.”

“I know.” He lazily rubbed your fingers with his thumb.

“Do you want to go over anything before the meeting?” You feebly attempted to redirect the conversation to be more professional, but you both knew there was no real effort as neither of you moved.

“Not really. I feel good this time.”

You remained in comfortable silence for a beat, lost in the exchange of energy that passed through one another. Your phone buzzed, pulling you away from the moment temporarily. Your face fell slightly. He looked at you expectantly.

“Well, you’re stuck with me today. The partner’s tied up with something.” You raised your gaze to meet his, searching for some kind of approval. He feigned distress.

“Oh no, what will I do? You’ve only handled 70% of this whole process on your own.” You squinted, skeptical of his confirmation.

“You trust a meager, low level associate to handle the entire trajectory of your future?”

“At this point, I trust you with my life.”

It was hard to tell whether he was being overdramatic for comedic effect or genuine. Foot steps in the distance pulled you from your trance, your hands quickly recoiling. With his back to the entry, he didn’t miss the chance to give you a wink and a smile that made you want to melt into the floor. Instead, you rolled your eyes in response but your bashful smile gave you away. You stood up when you saw your expected hosts enter.

“My two favorite people!”

“Good morning, Christian. I appreciate it, but you know flattery doesn’t work with me,” you quipped as you shook hands. When he wasn’t pissing off the rest of the grid, Christian really was quite the charmer when he wanted to be.

“On the contrary, it will get you everywhere.” The smile didn’t leave his face when he turned to Daniel, arms wide open. Their energy was well matched as they embraced in a warm hug. As happy as the driver was last week with his points finish, he seemed immensely more comfortable now.

When they separated, Christian looked at you again.

“What is this? Coffee and no Red Bull?” he teased.

“Sorry, had a bad experience in law school with energy drinks I’m afraid. Nothing personal. Though I was beginning to wonder whether the coffee machine was for decoration only.”

“They hide the mugs on purpose,” Daniel chimed in. Given the dimply smile and his tone, you would think he was joking but knew he was absolutely telling the truth.

“He leaves for four years, comes back, and thinks he owns the place and can share company secrets.”

You had seen it several times now, but it amazed you how easy their relationship seemed. Although technically Mercedes was not out of the question, you already knew where Daniel’s heart was. It was now just a matter of ironing out the details.

Christian and the Red Bull lawyer joined you at the table in the kitchen. It was a nice change of setting, the informality of it made the weight of the discussion feel a bit lighter. The process with them was easy, especially compared to McLaren and even Mercedes. While it was slightly less formal, at all times you felt respected. Not once did anyone assume you were an admin or paralegal, which admittedly is a low bar. But even beyond that, especially with the partner’s absence, you were never treated as a subordinate and your professional capabilities were never called into question. Of course this process was not about you, but in your opinion you believed choice of outside counsel was an extension of the type of work environment your client could expect. Red Bull had been a pleasant surprise in this respect.

It was all smiles when you exchanged handshakes as you parted ways. You and Daniel were shown out the back door to avoid a few media that had just started to arrive at the paddock. You walked behind the teams’ hospitality stations so that you could join the main entry of the paddock without raising suspicion.

“So. How do you think it went?” you casually asked. You didn’t want your own opinion to taint whatever his genuine response may be.

“Honestly… I think it went really well.” The dimply smile you had become so fond of returned to his face.

“Honestly… me too.” You allowed yourself to show your enthusiasm, feeling yourself break into a wide grin. Away and hidden from the main walk of the paddock, he grabbed your hands and you both quietly squealed and jumped up and down. After a few seconds when you stopped and regained composure, he asked:

“So, what’s next?”

“Well, that depends on you. If you think you’re ready to pull the trigger with Red Bull, you let me know ASAP and assuming we’ve already nixed any dealbreakers that would’ve been in their offer, we go through everything again with a fine-tooth comb, see if they’re able to come up on anything and sign.”

“And Mercedes?”

“We keep them in play until everything is in writing and executed. No need to have a PR disaster like Alpine.” You were, of course, referring to the unfortunate circumstances of Alpine prematurely announcing Oscar Piastri as their second driver for 2023. He chuckled as you continued walking towards McLaren. You could hear the hustle and bustle from the press getting louder as more people began to arrive. He paused just before you were about to turn the corner and enter the circus.

“I want to be at Red Bull,” he said definitively. You smiled.

“Ok then. I’ll get to work.” He gave you an encouraging fist bump before taking a deep breath, knowing this would be the last bit of downtime you both had for the rest of the weekend, reluctant to leave the nest of the quiet sanctuary you shared just behind the organized chaos.

“Shall we?”

You sighed. “No time better than the present.”

Brazil was an eventful whirlwind. It was no surprise to you that Daniel continued to skillfully navigate an onslaught of questions about his future in the sport on press day and the rest of the weekend. On Saturday, the two of you gossiped excitedly when Kevin Magnussen got pole in qualifying despite Daniel’s own mediocre performance. Obviously the sport was cut throat, but everyone couldn’t help but root for the Haas underdog. There was a buzz during the sprint, Daniel just out of reach of the points in p11. Unfortunately, the race itself ended up resulting in a DNF for both McLaren boys. With each day of events, Daniel’s mood seemed to sour despite the positive steps being taken behind the scenes. Of course DNF-ing on what could be his second to last race ever is not what anyone wanted. However, while you sympathized for Daniel, that’s not what you were focused on. There was the celebration of George’s first win with Lewis also on the podium, but then there was the internal team drama you watched unfold at Red Bull.

You anxiously waited out the post-race interview process so that you could update your client. If there was any question on what the path forward was before, it became crystal clear today.

As he walked through the paddock eager to get to his drivers room for some solitude, he saw you practically bouncing on your toes. He was a little annoyed to see you in such high spirits after an abysmal race, but it also made him relax a bit.

“I should DNF more often if it makes you this happy,” he dryly joked as he approached you. You should have been used to this song and dance by now. He makes a questionably flirtatious comment, you blush and get flustered, and after a bit of fumbling you redirect course and get back to business. You knew he wouldn’t change his behavior, no matter how many times you halfheartedly scolded or ignored him. It shouldn’t make you flustered any more, but there was excitement in not knowing whether there was any truth behind it. And as much as you hated to admit it, you liked it. But that was before your conversation in Mexico, where you divulged so much about your own inner turmoil. You had made yourself vulnerable. After that, you had assumed he would stop out of respect. What was a thrill before now felt like a cruel joke at your expense.

“Very funny,” you deadpanned. “I have some important news to share with you, can we go somewhere private to discuss?”

“You’re not going to buy me dinner first?” He had said this before, but it wasn’t landing like it used to.

“You’re going to have to buy yourself a new lawyer if you keep this act up.” For someone who didn’t finish the race, he was being awfully cocky today. And by goodness, did it make you feel things.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re the one who said you wanted to be alone with me -”

“Daniel.” He usually stopped after the first rebuttal.

“Not that I’m mad at it-“

Your previous excitement began to sour in your mouth as your heartbeat quickened. You grabbed his wrist and dragged him through McLaren hospitality to his drivers room. You didn’t care who saw or what it looked like. You practically pushed him in and shut the door behind you. His eyes widened as you got in his face.

“Oh shit, is this actually happening?” he began to pull at his shirt.

“What?! No. Shut up. What is wrong with you today?”

“Oh come on, I was just joking! You know I always do this.”

“No.” You pushed your pointer finger into his chest. “Today, you’re being an ass. I don’t know if this is you acting out after a shitty race or what, but pull it together. You are not a 21 year old frat boy, you’re a 33 year old world class athlete with a fully developed frontal lobe - who is now wasting my time, and rest assured, I am billing you for it. And if you stopped your inappropriate jokes for two fucking seconds and let me do my job, I would have told you that there’s a solid chance you can be on the grid in 2024 in a fucking Red Bull. Thought you might want to know.”

You had backed him into a wall and were inches away from his face, huffing and puffing. You were so mad, that one man could make you so infuriated and horny at the same time. His eyes were still the size of dinner plates, but his expression had fallen slightly. It was his turn to blush. He had been surrounded by yes-men for so long, he couldn’t remember the last time he had been chastised like this.

“I’m sorry-” You continued, your tone somewhat more even.

“Max wouldn’t let Checo through today despite what it would mean for the driver’s and constructor’s championships because he thinks Checo purposefully sabotaged him during qualifying in Monaco. The girls are fighting which is more bad PR for Red Bull, Checo’s contract is up next year, and if this dynamic continues between the two drivers then there’s a good chance they won’t renew it.”

“That’s great news-” You cut him off again.

“Am I a joke to you? Because I know you wouldn’t be making these comments if I was a man. I know you thought I was some secretary when we first met, but I really thought I had earned your respect throughout this process.” He looked at you now wearing the pink pantsuit you’d worn on that fateful first day.

“Can I just-”

“I’ve had to deal with so many mediocre men with undeserved self-inflated egos my entire life. I’ve dated them, I’ve been in class with them, I’ve worked with them, I’ve worked for them – especially the last five years at this godforsaken law firm. Lord knows I don’t need another one. I’ve had to work twice as hard and be better than them to prove myself as an equal. And even with all that, no matter what, as soon as I leave the room I’m the punchline of some joke I never asked or wanted to be a part of because I have boobs. Maybe we got off on the wrong foot initially but I really thought you were different. But no-”

One second you were ranting, the next you were cut off by lips crashing into yours. In your fury you missed his warm brown eyes darting between your eyes and your lips. In a flash he had grabbed the lapel of your suit jacket to bring you towards him, your hands landing firmly on his chest. Fireworks flashed behind your eyelids and for a moment you forgot what day it was, where you were, and who you were. You don’t know how long it lasted. You should have pulled away. You definitely shouldn’t have kissed back. But the taste of saline on him from the demands of the day and the scruff of his beard on your chin and cheeks made you want to stay. You smelled his cologne mixed with musk and, what was that, aftershave? Instead, he pulled away first.

You blinked a few times, jaw slack. You brought a hand to your lips, half to make sure they were still there but also for confirmation that you didn’t just hallucinate.

“Sorry, it was the only way I could think to get you to shut up so I could get a word in edgewise. If you’d let me talk, I would say I think you’re the most brilliant person I’ve ever met. You’re smart, witty, funny, and no, it doesn’t hurt that you’re as good looking as I am. You think I give a fuck about billing? I would spend my entire fortune down to nothing if it meant I got to spend more time with you. I’ve known for weeks I wanted to go to Red Bull and I didn’t tell you until three days ago because as excited as I am about figuring out what I’m doing next year, I’m equally dreading it because as soon as I sign that means you leave. When you’re not in the room I only sing your highest praises. So yes, of course I respect you. And I realize, kissing you just now may have proved your point, and I’m sorry about that. And you’re right that I’ve been a cunt today and a lot of this weekend, and I’m sorry about that too.”

There had been very few times in your life where you were left speechless, and this was one of them. It was literally your job to be good with words, and right now they failed you.

“And I know you’re going to say ‘let’s forget that this ever happened’ and I’ll move on and get back to business, but I can promise you I won’t. I’ll never tell another soul for your sake, because I don’t want you to lose your job, but I refuse to forget this, our conversation in Mexico, or that Sunday in Austin. You’re unforgettable f/n l/n.”

You stood there in silence for a few moments. Your adrenaline was through the roof and your mind was blank. He was clearly looking for a response, yet you had none. You did your best to break the tension.

“Well if your goal was to get me to shut up, you succeeded.”

“Honestly, I’m as shocked as you are,” he said with a small laugh. There was another long pause. “I shouldn’t have said all of that, I’m sorry.” You gave him a knowing smile.

“No you’re not.” He smirked.

“Yeah, not really.” You had become particularly focused on a speck of dirt on the floor, but finally returned his gaze.

“You know nothing can happen,” you whispered. It wasn’t a question, it was a statement of fact that was directed at yourself as much as him. You unsuccessfully tried to hide the disappointment in your voice. He refused to look away from you even when you continued to avoid eye contact.

“Yeah, I know.”

Silence descended again. There was nothing else to say. You realized through your tirade and this whole exchange you had been standing dangerously close to one another, and you hadn’t backed away after the kiss. You could feel his heartbeat on your chest, and you were pretty sure he could hear yours. You separated yourself and tried to pick up whatever pieces of dignity you had left. You straightened out your suit jacket and cleared your throat.

“I’m going to try to add some clauses in the contract for 2024 primary driver placement. They’ll almost certainly come back with red lines to make them conditional, perhaps based on Checo’s performance and/or your own performance in the sim, but Horner loves you so much that I think they’ll be receptive to the idea overall.” Your heart hurt at how crestfallen he looked.

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

“I’ll send you a draft before it goes to Red Bull. You can expect deliverables by tomorrow.”

“Ok.”

“Assuming everything goes smoothly, I anticipate the agreement to be fully executed by Abu Dhabi. Does that sound like a reasonable timeline?”

He was incredulous at how quickly you could shut everything off. He had spilled his heart to you and in return he received merely an acknowledgement before you put an abrupt end to the conversation. You had done it so many times before to a lesser extent that he shouldn’t have been surprised by how quickly your walls went back up, but he somehow thought this time would be different.

“Yeah,” he finally answered. “But… I want to wait until after the race. I don’t want to have to worry about sneaking away in the middle of practice or qualifying.” It was his way of saying he wanted you there for the duration of the race weekend, he had gotten used to your presence over the last three months. Despite whatever this altercation did to your relationship, professional or otherwise, he couldn’t imagine finishing the tumultuous season without you by his side. He hoped you would pick up the subtlety, but it went over your head.

“I don’t know Daniel, Red Bull probably has a million celebratory events immediately afterwards seeing as their driver won the championship and they won the constructor’s. I imagine McLaren also has a bunch of end of season events planned as well that you’ll have to attend.”

“Can we ask if they can spend an extra day in the country?”

“If you want to wait until after the season is over I totally get it, it might just be easier if we try to schedule something at Milton Keynes the following week.” For someone so smart you were also awfully dense. He tried to come up with a logical explanation that you would be willing to go along with.

“I just thought it would be smart to be able to announce this within a few days after the end of the season, where there’s still buzz and interest and before we get too far into winter break. Plus then it would give the team a few days to come up with a press release still within that timeframe.”

You couldn’t argue that such timing would be better publicity for both him and Red Bull.

“Hmm, I suppose you’re right. No promises, but I’ll reach out to Red Bull to see what their schedule is like.”

He was satisfied with the victory, no matter how small.

“Is there anything else?” The words felt hollow as they left your mouth. He looked away, shaking his head in disbelief.

“No, I guess not,” he said in defeat. You felt terrible. There were so many things you wanted to tell him, but saying them out loud would only serve to stoke the wildfire you so desperately wanted to put out.

“I’ll see you next week in Abu Dhabi,” you said meekly. You left the room, ending the exchange in a stalemate with neither party satisfied.

Taglist: @ravenqueen27 @leslizzle @zendayabelova @eitak-t @chiliwhore @wewoo1233

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lolabangtan · 11 months

Text

05 | pair bond

Jimin throws a party at the office to celebrate the project’s success – too bad you’re stuck with your boss in a shabby motel during a storm because he wanted to buy some stupid local sweets.

index • previous • next

Word count: 7k

Warnings: smut, heavy alcohol consumption.

# sub!Taehyung, very very gentle dom!reader, hand job, nipple play, some dry-humping, drunk sex, Kim Taehyung Taetae, a lot of sexual tension and a lot of bickering, it high key turns him on tho, forced proximity?, she’s such a girlboss.

People arguing, phones ringing, shoes clattering on the floor in a hurry, anxious fingers tapping on a computer keyboard.

In short, the office is in chaos.

Han’s next-generation cookware project was launched a week and a half ago, and work has been in full swing ever since. You have not stopped organising reports and scheduling meetings, picking up the phone and jotting down messages, caffeine is pumping through your body aggressively. No one has time to even take a toilet break – and you really should get one.

“No, wait, listen— just tell them it can wait till tomorrow.”

You let out a groan. “To Marketing?”

“I have the board meeting first,” Taehyung mumbles; “they really want to know how the project has gone.”

“Well, if that’s your priority, let me tell you, it’s not going to go well,” you can’t help but say.

Your boss looks up from his hands and stares at you in disbelief; honestly, he should be used to it already. You struggle with keeping your mouth shut, and he struggles with finding people who can actually tell it like it is. To you, that’s a win-win.

“And I can’t delegate that?”

You cross your arms and sit on his desk, making him shift his eyes to the curve of your legs— okay, this is not the time to think about that. Not ever, actually, but if he mixes the sight of your thighs in that raked-up pencil skirt with your nagging tone, the result will be a cocktail of emotions that Taehyung is not willing to make public.

“Well, you can, but should you?” you insist.

Taehyung squints his eyes, confused. “I should… not?”

“Very well!” you then exclaim mockingly, like you’re talking to a dumb puppy, and he revels in it. “All the departments need you now, their communication needs to be better more than ever to know how the new products are going. If you go to the board first, that sends an awful message. ‘Thank you for your time and effort, but I need to tell the old men how much money they’re gonna make this quarter’, basically.”

Great, now he feels guilty. But you’re right, he has a duty to his employees since everyone has been working their asses off for the project to succeed.

“Okay, can we rearrange the meetings as you said?”

“Already on it,” you say without even looking up from your mobile phone.

“And when we get back from Gwangju this Friday,” he continues, “we’ll throw a company party. To celebrate the project’s success.”

Ah, right, the trip to Gwangju; Taehyung has to meet up with some small business owners to close a deal and grow the top line in smaller areas. Of course, with your outstanding talent, you were the one to come up with the idea in an attempt to spend less time together and get rid of this ridiculous infatuation, but you forgot that, as his assistant, you’d be coming with him.

So, in your attempt to stay away from him, you actually got to spend four hours locked in a car, four more on the way back, and all the hours in between stuck too, checking in at the hotel, from meeting to meeting.

Honestly speaking, you have no idea why you feel like this; it’s not like you consciously like him. Maybe it’s just the attention that gets you, or the amusement of having a crush.

The meetings are going well and reassure the staff. Everyone is exhausted, of course, and an important person telling you that you’ve done a good job is probably relieving. By the time the first round of meetings ends, it is lunchtime, so you grab your purse and head to the cafeteria after telling Taehyung.

You eat your lunch in silence, with your phone in your hand but not really looking at it.

In all this time, you haven’t got a single call from your company. Not one message, not one desperate ring because there is an emergency and they know they are resting but please, they need your help.

Now, seeing everyone praising Kim Taehyung and getting so happy with his praise makes you crave the same attention. Everyone wants a piece of him. And here you are, scheduling his meetings and getting his calls while no one wants yours.

You scroll down your message menu; the last text you received was from Seokjin a couple of hours ago, but only to see how you were doing. The usual; rest, don’t you worry about a thing, everything is fine here, the company is running smoothly without you, you’re completely dispensable. We don’t even want you back. We’re better off without you. I hope that your holidays last forever.

“Y/N?”

Your thoughts were too loud, and you didn’t hear the voice calling you.

“Oh— Mr Park, good—” You rush to get up and bow your head, feeling your face red and your chest heavy. “Sorry, I was… thinking. Good afternoon.”

“Mind if I eat with you?” Jimin asks.

He’s already sitting in front of you, but you frown. “You’re not having lunch with President Kim?”

“Not feeling like it today…” he murmurs and stirs his soup.

“Of course.”

The two of you munch in silence for a while, not even pretending to scroll through your phone; you just sit there, silently staring at your food and having a bite from time to time. It seems like both of you have a lot on your mind at this moment.

“We’re not very talkative today, I see. What’s on your mind?”

Jimin’s question takes you by surprise. You babble for a second, first to come back to reality, and then to order your thoughts. But, how dangerous could it be? He should be a mastermind to figure out your real identity by your troubles alone, if he has not already by your looks. And, honestly, you need to let some steam out.

“Don’t you ever feel… that the whole world would be better off without you?”

He chuckles dryly and plays with the heap of rice. “I very much doubt that you really think so, Miss Shin.”

“Hm?”

“What are you worried about?” Jimin insists, watching your puzzled face. “That things will work out without you—? Even better. Being needed is not the same as being wanted.”

“That’s not—” You let out a sigh, and he grins again. “Being needed means that I’m doing things right.”

But Jimin tilts his head. “If it scares you not to be needed, that’s only because you think there’s no reason that they’d ever want you.”

You have the feeling that Jimin thinks you’re talking about this company, and even if your main insecurities are far from that, they can indeed put down roots elsewhere and make you feel like shit. Your job could be done by anyone with two brain cells and a minimal sense of order.

“You’re very serious about your work,” he continues. “Why is that?”

“Can’t a woman be serious about her work?”

Jimin makes a thoughtful face. “Well, most women your age are busy looking for a man.”

“Ah, and I’m not, that’s true,” you respond with a laugh.

Park Jimin is such a mysterious man. Sometimes you’re sure he’s just genuinely a dick, but sometimes you get the feeling that he’s messing with you and it’s all a façade.

“Do you think I should quit this job and get a husband?” you ask, determined to play along.

Jimin smirks. “Well, I don’t think you should have to quit to find one.”

“And how am I going to make the time to meet men?” you inquire then, already finishing your food. You’re not hungry anymore. You want to see where this is going to get you. “I’m not good at blind dates, and I don’t trust my family to arrange anything for me.”

“Oh, yeah, families never care about whom the daughter marries, as long as he has money and a position…” You get the feeling he’s half-convinced, half-doubtful of his own words. “But then again, you can meet handsome, rich men here, can’t you? Just let me know who’s in your interest. What about my brother? Wouldn’t you want to marry him? Wouldn’t that be a match made in heaven?”

You blink, surprised by his shameless proposition, and you feel your face turn red and hot. Have you been so obvious? You tried to control yourself around him. It’s just an infatuation, after all – it’s nothing serious, nothing to lose your head over, nothing important. He’s cute, and you’re bored.

“I don’t think it’d be appropriate.”

“And yet I can think of nothing more fitting.”

Is he messing with you again? He must be. He’s being sarcastic, and a bit cruel, too. A businessman and his little, gold-digging secretary, very funny.

Fuck it, you don’t have the mental strength to put up with this jerk. Let him fire you if he’s got the fucking audacity. “Don’t you have anything more interesting to do than looking for hook-ups for your brother?”

His dumbfounded face is a sight for sore eyes, but it soon turns back into his amused grin.

“How romantic of you, Miss Shin,” Jimin finally responds with an infuriating chirp. “And even if I have to admit that Taehyung needs some help getting dates, I was talking about something deeper, something with feelings. His assets are worth more than a fuck.”

Ah, you get it now. He is not playing with you; he is testing you. How touching, such a strong brotherly bond. Jimin must think that you’re after his brother and is trying to see if you’re willing to put your wishes into action. Alas, he’s wrong – you don’t plan to lay a finger on Kim Taehyung today— or ever. He’s a sweet, playful, kind man, even if he comes off as cold sometimes, but marrying a man like him would be like proving your grandmother right.

“I’m not interested in him—”

“Don’t lie.”

Your heart sinks into your chest, and suddenly you’re short of breath.

“You could say you’re not going to do anything about it, and I’d believe you,” Jimin continues then, “but don’t say you’re not. He’s blind, but I’m not.”

You let out a tired sigh. “I really don’t understand where you are trying to get with this.”

“You’re wasting your time. He’s right there.”

The idea that Jimin can read your thoughts and knows who you are crosses your mind again, but you try to think of something else. It doesn’t make sense. Why is he so insistent? If he wants to protect his brother, he’s tickling the wrong bone.

“Now that we’re friends,” you joke just to avoid crying, “I can confess that talking to you is a guaranteed headache.”

“I’m flattered.”

Looking at him, you can’t help letting out an unbelieving laugh, and the few people left in the cafeteria turned to look at you. Some lean into each other to gossip, and some others just keep staring with curiosity. Regardless of that, you rub your eyes, careful not to smudge your mascara, and sigh again.

“I’ll be off now,” Jimin says, getting up. “Have fun in Gwangju.”

“Are you sure?”

He raises his eyebrows, surprised and amused, and walks off to leave the empty trail and leave.

There must be something up with him. For a half-sibling, they’re pretty close. And you don’t how much older he is than Taehyung, but he either has an amazing skincare routine, or he’s not more than three or four years older than him. You don’t know who his mother is, although it is true that Mr Kim has always kept his life private.

Whatever, it’s not like you care. He came to you looking to tickle you off, and he managed to do it again. It’s not worth it.

God, you’re trembling. With rage, with anxiety, you don’t know – but you’re certainly not unfazed by Park Jimin’s antics. Now you have other things to worry about, like your job, and your lunchtime is over, so you get your tray and leave too.

Just as you’re washing your hands, your phone rings.

“Hello?”

“Uh, where are you? The meeting with Finance is about to start.”

“Oh, crap—” At Taehyung’s words, you hurry to dry your hands and grab your bag. “Sorry, I got held up. I’m on my way!”

You can hear his angelic laugh on the other line. “Don’t worry, I’ll stall them. There’s always a first time for everything… Even you can be late sometimes.”

Even you can be late sometimes.

Is that the image he has of you—? A workaholic neat freak. A person who is never late, who is always watching, always listening. Someone who never lets herself go. How could Park Jimin ever think you are a gold-digger worthy of his concern? When working is all you’ve ever done. Even if no one ever thanks you for it, even if no one appreciates it. You’re always there. But perhaps he’s right, and you’re not needed. And since you’re not needed, you’re not wanted, either.

“During these weeks we have seen a very positive reaction from the public. Sales of other earlier products have also improved, and we have plans to expand overseas sales. Now Mr Min will give us a detailed report.”

Min Yoongi gets up giving himself a shy clap along with the rest of the room and starts his speech by thanking everyone. Taehyung returns to his seat next to you and lets out a quiet puff of air, and you harp him with your elbow, trying to show him an encouraging smile.

“You did great,” you whisper.

“Uh?”

He didn’t hear you.

“I said, you did good,” you repeat, this time a bit louder. “Good job.”

Oh, fuck, he’s blushing. You made him blush. This is not good, abort the mission, this is not good. This is, in fact, very bad. He looks so cute, he’s like a puppy.

You look away before Taehyung’s cuteness gets the best of you and glue your eyes to the PowerPoint.

The meeting unfolds as expected, everyone thanking the hard work and revelling in how well this quarter is going to go. Then there’s a small speech on future projects, deals, and changes, and everybody ends with a round of applause. Now you have to prepare the meeting with Sales, and then with Marketing. Taehyung says goodbye and follows you down the corridor.

You stop by his office’s door. “Okay, give me five minutes and I’ll be ready.”

“Sure, just hand me the reports.”

“What reports?” you ask.

Taehyung blinks. “Uh, sorry… I thought you’d have them under control?” he says, and you think he’s somehow afraid of your reaction. “I apologise if it—”

“It’s okay,” you reply with a sigh and start looking for them.

But Taehyung insists, “No, you’re right, I always put too much pressure—”

“I said it’s okay.”

His hand, already moving to touch your shoulder, halts at once and retracts. Certainly, he got it all wrong; he’s not close enough to you to try and reassure you. He’s your boss, and you’re his secretary, his employee. Nothing else.

“That was my job to do,” he insists, but suddenly he’s cold and solemn. “I apologise.”

Why are you angry at him? You don’t understand. He’s been nothing but kind and hardworking despite your initial idea of him.

“You look a bit tired; you’d better stay here. I can go to the meeting on my own.”

And his words pierce your brain like a bullet.

He doesn’t need you either. What’s more, he’s probably been waiting for weeks for a chance to get rid of you. If you don’t do your job well, what need is there for you to accompany him? He doesn’t need you. Nobody does.

“Don’t you want me there?”

“Of course I do.”

You miss the way Taehyung regrets saying that so hastily because it makes a flower bloom in your chest. The noisy shadows in your head clear away, and you watch him kneel in front of you while you stay seated on his boss’s chair. Taehyung looks away in search of encouragement and unconsciously puts his hand on your knee.

“Of course I want you to come with me,” he continues. His hand hasn’t moved away. “But I think I’ve been leaning on you too much. I made you work too hard. And— I know you can handle it and all, but I, uh… What I want most of all is for you to be well.”

You’d kiss him right here. You’d grab him by his fancy white collar and push him against his desk, and you’d kiss him and fuck him right here. Until his lips would bruise, until he came with a grunted whimper, like those he let out when he moved the heavy bookshelf in his office so that you could drag your chair next to his. You’d pull at his hair until he begged for more, and you would ride his cock until you were coming all over him.

Those fingers should be creeping up into your legs. You’d tell him how to do it, and you’d reward him for making you cum.

“Y/N-ssi?”

You just find him cute, your ass.

Taehyung sees you staring down at his hand on your knee, and embarrassment washes over him as he pulls it away with an apology. You must think he’s a creep now. Oh, he’s always messing up when he’s with you. But maybe…

“Just… stay here, okay?” he says, mustering the courage to continue, “I can manage on my own, I’m a good boy.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you’re melting inside— “I know you are.”

He gets up, and you watch him leave, still breathless. Perhaps you’re actually overworking yourself, even though you never thought you could reach that level. Good heavens, you’re a mess. Did you just think about fucking Kim Taehyung? You never had found him hot; you weren’t supposed to find him hot.

The rest of the day passes excruciatingly slowly.

At last, you are back in your quiet, dark flat. You kick off your heels and collapse onto your bed when the horrible memory that you have a company trip first thing tomorrow morning dawns on you.

Honestly, you’ve always liked business trips; you explore new places, but not too idly. You meet people and work, and you always stay in a nice hotel from which you never leave until it’s time to check out. Who knows, maybe you’ll enjoy this one too, even if you’re not going to do anything besides organising Kim Taehyung’s schedule. Perhaps this time you will have the time to enjoy a nice coffee in a quiet, pretty spot.

“I want to die.”

Careful not to smudge your makeup, you sink your head into the pillow with a heavy sigh. You should have a shower and get ready to get to bed.

Before you even look at it, your phone is in your hands, searching for a contact. You need to hear the voice of a friend. You need, in a way, to remember who you are again; O Y/N, an important and capable person. Someone they can rely on.

“Hey, I was just about to go to bed. How’s everything going?”

Seokjin tells someone off and returns to you. “Hey, how are you? We just finished… something.”

“I miss you. It feels a bit lonely here.”

Silence. The ruckus from the office comes to you through the line, but your friend is quiet. You wonder what he’s thinking about right now. Maybe he’s too busy to talk. Your heart pounds against your ribcage.

“Are you busy?”

“We’re all working hard,” he says, “you know, to cover for you. Don’t worry about a thing.”

“Cover for me?”

The day of the accident, which your grandmother remembers as the day she almost lost her granddaughter after losing her son and daughter-in-law, your heart was beating like this too. Your body was tense like this, and you were sweating just as much. Breathless whimpers, a piercing urge to cry even though you could shed no tears. In a second, your vision went blurry. For an instant, your brain went black, and your arms swung the steering wheel to the side of the road. You don't know why you did that; it was an instinct. You wanted to crash.

You have never told anyone about this, nor do you plan to. It was stupid, and you were out of your mind. For everyone else, you didn't sleep much that day, and your eyes closed for a second.

You are still wondering what caused the mental fog.

I can’t forgive them. If I do, I’ll miss them.

“Yeah, cover for you.” You hear Seokjin chuckling from the other side. “I have to admit it, you’re made of tough stuff! I don’t know how you put up with this. I want to kill HR, and the board, ugh they’re so—”

“Thank you,” you murmur, staring at the ceiling.

“Uh?”

More silence.

“Y/N, are you really okay?”

You let out a shaky breath. “I thought you wouldn’t want me back, you know, since you haven’t called,” you confess then as you play with your nails. “Ha, how stupid is that? Sorry, I just… I’m just feeling a bit sad, I’m tired.” From being on vacation? Sure. “I’m glad to know I’ve got such a capable team by my side.”

“Jesus, that was— thank you. We’re doing our best.”

“How’s Grandmother?” you suddenly ask. “Have you seen her lately?”

“Busy with plots and intrigues, as usual. But she’ll be glad that you asked,” he responds with a loud cackle.

“Do you know” – you change the subject, and he doesn’t feign surprise – “that I’m crushing on someone? It’s just a silly crush, but—”

“Oh, God! Your frozen heart melted!”

“Very funny.”

Seokjin clears his throat, and you hear him shuffling and sitting down far from the ruckus. “No, really, I’m happy for you. Who’s the lucky guy? Are you serious about it, gonna bring him to the big city so we can meet him?”

“I… probably won’t,” you murmur. “He’s cute and all, but… I’ll have to go at some point.”

“Ah, yeah. Then, enjoy it while it lasts. No regrets.”

His words make you frown, throwing you into a spiral of thoughts and pondering. Yes, he’s right; no regrets. You can always pretend to be crazy and fake a reasonable physical resemblance if you ever meet again in society. At the same time, you’ll get this bugging craving out of your head. Just a kiss, perhaps, since you only have a couple of weeks left in the company. Just a couple of weeks left to spend with him.

“Hm, I might do that.”

Seokjin tries to respond, but someone starts yelling in the background. You figure they’re in a meeting, so you thank him and say goodbye.

With the phone in your hand, you set the alarms for tomorrow’s trip and go to bed.

You wake up in a chaotic haze of a ringing headache, the aggressive buzzing of your phone, and a dry throat. With a frown, you reach your arm to grab your mobile phone and check, realising that Taehyung is calling, as he has been doing for the last thirty minutes, judging by his four missed calls. You stare at your phone in silence until it stops ringing, and then you snap out.

“Oh, fuck—”

There won’t be any trouble if you’re able to get dressed, brush your teeth, do your make-up, and get to the office in twenty minutes. Come on, you can do that and more. Three minutes for getting changed, another four to brush your teeth and wash your face, and seven minutes to do your make-up. You’re leaving your flat when your phone rings again; it’s Taehyung, and you have to pick up this time.

“I’m— I’m sorry, I fell asleep,” you pant.

“Uh, really?”

You stop at the door and frown at no one. “Yeah…?”

“Sorry,” he says then. He sounds flustered. “Sorry, hm, that’s just so… not like you. I thought something happened.”

“Uh.”

“So, you’re okay?”

“Yep.”

“Okay, I’ll see you in the office, then? Don’t go in a hurry with the car, drive carefully…” You’re catching your breath on the lift ride until the doors open and you walk out into the car park. “It’s a one-day trip, so you don’t need to bring anything with you. We’ll be back for the party.”

Fifteen minutes and a crazy race against a bus later, you rush out of the lift and go to his office only to find it empty. With a groan, you almost feel tempted to simply flake out on the floor and cry, but a voice distracts you:

“Mr Kim is already in the car park, Y/N,” says the woman as she stares down at you. “He said he’d wait for you there.”

“I… didn’t see him.”

Your phone buzzes.

Kim Taehyung, one (1) missed call.

“Oh, really?” you groan at the air again, already calling him back. “Thanks— Mr Kim! I’m up at your office, yes— I’m on my way, sorry about— o-okay, yeah, drove safely…”

Rushing out of the lift and down the last pair of stairs, you put your phone back in your purse and finally spot Taehyung waiting for you. He’s casually leaning on his car with his arms crossed, checking his phone until he hears your wheezing pants and looks up. Then he smiles, his eyes light up and, damn it, why does he have to smile like that?

“God, I’m so sorry about all this!” you say.

But he just chuckles, perhaps amused by the mess you are. “Don’t be, I should’ve just texted you.”

Again, Taehyung laughs softly as the two of you get in the car; he opens the door for you, like a proper gentleman, and the fluttering feeling in the pit of your stomach returns. Oh, in some way, you hope you’re giving him the same feelings.

The ride is silent at first; Taehyung is making sure you’re going in the right direction while you look for the most comfortable way to recline the back of your seat.

You’ve packed water bottles, snacks, and a blanket, and now you’re getting on with the music.

“You can sleep if you want,” he suddenly says; “you must be tired from yesterday if you woke up late…”

You’re not entirely sure if he’s messing with you because in your head he clearly is, but then again, why would he? That’s not much like Taehyung.

Whatever. Four hours and two naps later, you arrive at Gwangju; why didn’t you go by train, like any other normal person would’ve done? Good question. Unfortunately, your boss had to love driving and, in his own words, ‘I haven’t had a good car trip in a long time. It’ll be fun!’ So, here you are, staring at the door of a restaurant’s bathroom well past your usual eating time while he has lunch with a bunch of small business owners. He handed you his personal card to – his words – ‘eat at a nice place and relax.’ As if you needed to? Is he implying anything?

You finish peeing and wash your hands.

The afternoon passes quietly; you had a late lunch at the cutest café you could find, went window-shopping, and had a walk around a park.

By the time it gets dark, you leisurely sipping a coffee on a park bench.

Your phone buzzes. “Yes?”

“Sorry, the meeting just finished.” It’s Taehyung. “They wanted to go for a drink, but I told them I had to be back in Seoul for an event.”

“Yes, Mr Park said he’d take care of the preparations for the launch party,” you murmur in response.

He goes silent for a second.

“Where are you? I’ll pick you up.”

After telling him, you hang up and sigh; why can’t you figure out why he does the things he does? Everyone else is so easy to make out. But not Kim Taehyung, no, he’s a mystery. Does he like you? Does he not? Is he at least attracted to you? What for—? If you’ve resolved not to like him.

True to his word, Taehyung shows up at the entrance of the park to pick you up.

“Here, take it back.” You hand his black card back to him as you get into the car and sit next to him. “Don’t worry, I didn’t buy anything crazy,” you say with a chuckle at the sight of his puzzled face.

He snaps out of his confusion. “Oh, I just— I forgot you had it. Thanks.”

The conversation goes no further, and the ride back home begins. To break the silence, you turn on the radio. The presenter’s voice announces that rain and strong winds are expected in the late evening. However, you don’t pay much attention, too busy being overwhelmed by how little you want to attend the impending launch party.

“A penny for your thoughts?” you suddenly ask; he looked so engrossed in his thoughts, you’ve grown curious.

Taehyung glances at you, almost like a child hesitating to ask for a treat. “I was wondering… There’s a place that sells these famous handmade sweets. It’s a bit of a detour, but I don’t want to turn up to the party empty-handed…”

He doesn��t even dare to finish his request – or rather to finish his plea, judging by his cute-ish tone— damn it. Well, he doesn’t dare to finish talking, but you can tell he really wants those sweets. The party is a poorly thought excuse. But his eyes are sparkling, and his lips are pursed in a pout.

“Do you want to buy some?” you decide to ask.

“Really?” Taehyung blurts out, eyes open. “You don’t mind?”

“Well, I don’t think taking an hour or two longer will make much of a difference…”

“Please, don’t be—”

“If you ask me not to get mad one more time, I swear, Taehyung, I’m gonna— turn!”

Taehyung turns the wheel in time, and you manage to avoid crashing into the guardrail. Once the car is stable again, you let go of the grab handle with your heart still pounding.

“I’m sorry!” he cries out. “I can’t see and it’s getting on my nerves!”

“You are getting on my nerves!”

But it’s true; with rain pattering against the windscreen and droplets dripping under the glass in the dark of night in the background, headlights can only do so much. You’re risking a car accident with every second you spend on the road, and the mere thought makes you shiver.

If only you hadn’t gone out of your way to buy those stupid sweets, the storm wouldn’t have caught you before you reached Seoul. But you did, so now you just have to take on the consequences.

“Taehyung, this is pointless. We have to pull over,” you groan.

Finally, he drives the car to the side of the road. The rain taps noisily against the windscreen, and for a long moment that’s all you can hear.

“The storm could take hours to calm down,” Taehyung murmurs as he lets go of the wheel. “Isn’t there any place where we can pass the time? Like a restaurant, or a café…”

You take out your phone, which barely has any signal, and scroll through Naver maps in search of anything similar. “Nothing, just a sleazy motel. You know, the kind of spot teenagers go to lose their virginities.”

His silence is loud.

“What do you think? Should we give it a go?” you insist.

“I guess it’s either that or rot in the car.”

Fortunately – though unsurprisingly – they have rooms available. After pulling up in the car park, you check in, and Taehyung pays for the room while you take a look around the small entrance hall; it’s discreet and dark, so you doubt that even the receptionist can take a good look at your faces. It’s understandable, considering that it’s a motel completely isolated from society.

When the young man asks for your ID, you freeze.

“I’m the only one staying; she’s coming upstairs with me for a moment.”

“I’ll have to charge you extra if you don’t want it to appear that you’re staying with someone," says the receptionist with no emotion in his voice. “But she won’t show up anywhere. It’s to cover extra expenses.”

Taehyung agrees right away – the difference isn’t much after all, and he doesn't have the energy to argue with a burnout worker.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, taking the code from his hand.

“Thank you, enjoy your stay.”

As you make your way to the lift, you let out a giggle. “I think that boy thought we are lovers.”

“Uh, yeah, I wonder why…”

Actually, you find out as soon as you walk into the room; the walls and bed sheets are a tacky red, and so are the dim lights. There’s a welcome pack but, instead of maps and amenities, it’s filled with condoms, lubricants, toys, jars of cream and chocolate, and a pair of handcuffs. The smell of heavy perfume hits you, and so does the realisation that this is not a wacky motel but a common love hotel.

“We can always leave—”

“Come on, it’s only until the storm stops,” you say, trying to ignore the lump in your throat and the heat up your cheeks.

You won’t lie, though – you’ve always died to stay at a love hotel. The shabby kind. It’s kinkier.

“Don’t you feel hot in that suit?” you ask. You’ve noticed Taehyung adjusting the neck of his shirt a few times already. “Since it’s so damp and warm.”

“I have nothing to change into. I didn’t pack.”

You let out a sigh. “Of course, it was supposed to be a one-day trip…”

As the minutes pass, you make yourselves comfortable; shoes and jackets off, you both look for something to spend the time with. You put your phone to charge while you idly browse through the channels on TV. When you find an interesting show, you lie down on the bed next to him.

“The party must’ve started already,” you hear him murmur.

“I guess. We would’ve got home by…”

You shut up, not wishing to upset him; you know he’s very aware of the fact that this is all his fault, in a way. Were it not for those silly sweets…

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung says then.

Without thinking, you put a hand on his upper thigh and stroke up and down to comfort him and make him understand that you are not really upset with him. However, your touch is not comforting to him; perhaps quite the opposite, judging by the way he stiffens immediately. However, you don’t notice.

“I know you are.”

Not even television can make the time pass any faster, and the storm doesn’t seem to be abating any time soon. By the time you start to get impatient, it’s eleven o’clock at night and neither of you feels remotely sleepy.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to drink myself to sleep,” you suddenly say, getting up to make your way to the minibar. “Otherwise, this night will never pass.”

Taehyung sits up on the bed. “I don’t think—”

“Don’t worry, I’ll pay for it.”

“That’s not what I… Uh, just pass me whatever there is, please.”

With a grin, you grab a bottle of wine and two glasses and walk back to the bed. You don’t notice the way his eyes light up or the way he stares at you. As if he was expectant, and as if his imagination was giving him a hard time. But he watches how you walk back to the bed, to him, with the bottle in your hand and that dashing smile, and he so feels weak in the knees that he’s glad he’s sat. For a second, you two are lovers, not strangers.

The alcohol – because after the wine came the whisky, and then a few beers – takes its toll on you; not too into the early morning, you are drunk and laughing at an absurd show about people dodging obstacles and falling into the water.

Taehyung has got rid of his suit jacket and tie; the collar of his shirt is open almost halfway to let air in, allowing you to enjoy the view of his collarbone and bronze chest. His sleeves are rolled up, relieving his arms from the humid heat of the room. For your part, you haven’t stopped to think that shedding most of your clothes has caused a similar effect on him.

You notice him staring when you turn around.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Taehyung says with a boyish giggle. “I just… I would never have guessed the kind of person who gets drunk on beer and watches game shows.”

You let out a sigh, suddenly put off by his words, and he instantly regrets ever opening his mouth.

“I—”

“You think I’m a stuck-up too, don’t you?” you ask.

Before Taehyung has the time to react, you’re sitting up and turning to face him. It’s a mixture of frustration and pride that you’re feeling, and it’s heating up your already warm cheeks. You’re not hearing another person saying those words, especially not Kim Taehyung.

“Y/N is a control freak, Y/N is never late, Y/N always has it all done like a good girl… That’s what you think, huh?” Shit, you’re too close, he can feel your hot breath against his face. Your arms are caging him against the mattress and, he’s certain, you haven’t realised that you’re practically straddling him. “Well, maybe I’m sick of being good.”

Taehyung tries to help you keep your balance and perhaps steady himself, but unfortunately, his hands end up on your bare bottom, as your position has caused your skirt to hike up.

“Fuck, sorry—”

His hands move away in a jiffy.

This can’t be happening, not like this, not with his secretary. But it’s you, after all. It’s the woman who has been plaguing all and each of his thoughts, who fills his brain from the moment he wakes up to the minute he goes to bed, and beyond.

Do you feel the way does? – like you’ve fallen ill with feverish want.

“Taehyung,” you call his name, and it sounds soft and sweet.

“Y/N, I…” he tries to say but gets caught up staring down at your lips, so close to him. “I don’t think… you’re a stuck-up.”

“Why not?” you ask, leaning into him. “Everybody does.”

He lets out a shaky breath. “I-I just don’t. That’d really be the last thing I think of when I see you.”

“Oh?” You chuckle, getting too turned on for your own good, still on top of him, and the sound sends a shiver down his spine. “So, what do you think of when you see me?”

“Couldn’t say it out loud.”

That’s it, he’s crossed the line. Why did he say such a thing?

You can’t help but rush up to kiss him hard. The wet contact as you quickly get over the initial shyness and start rolling your tongues over each other only shoves you deep into a red mental state. Your hands grip the collar of his shirt, popping a few buttons, but neither of you notices.

Taehyung reciprocates the kiss while blowing his common sense and principles to hell. You’re nothing but Y/N. That’s all he cares about right now. To hell with literally everything if that means he can finally allow himself to enjoy your warmth or the nonchalant weight of your gaze on him or the shivers of your lips brushing together.

You fit perfectly sitting on his lap.

Catching him off guard, your lips move down to his neck to leave a trail of wet kisses behind, and Taehyung lets out a whimper.

Although he closes his mouth immediately, feeling too embarrassed, you can’t help rubbing your thighs together; you hope you’ll get to hear more of those if the night goes on well, and if you do, you’ll end up soaked down there, that’s for sure.

“Don’t shut them up,” you whisper in his ear. “I wanna hear you.”

Honesty is the best policy, or so you’ve heard.

Your request makes him gasp and buck his hips into you. The growing tent in his crotch is a pleasant surprise.

Taehyung swirls his tongue around yours while his hands grope from your upper back down to your ass, now totally careless. He hikes up your skirt until it looks like a wrinkled belt around your hips and begs you with puppy eyes to take care of him as well. So, you undo his belt buckle, and he’s quick to raise his hips off the mattress and pull down his pants enough, but the mere feeling of his hard-on against your clothed core makes you shove your hips together.

“Shit, Taehyung—” You gasp for air. “Take this off too.”

Without even waiting for him to do it, you undo the few buttons that survived your earlier attack and reveal his chiselled chest. Your hands move to revel in the firm warmth of his flesh, but then you move away to unhook your bra.

But you get mixed up with the straps and the sleeves of your blouse, so you give up and just ruck it up, revealing the sight of your breasts bouncing back into place.

Of course, Taehyung has never seen anything more tempting.

It’s always thrilling and scary to get naked in front of someone for the first time, but this time it feels especially weird, and you’re especially hungry for his reaction; Taehyung delivers, though, by pressing his lips against the skin between your breasts with a gaze lost in thought and hugging you hard against him.

The moment you go for his underwear, though, he stops you.

“I…” Taehyung looks away, losing the courage to speak up. You’re still staring at him as you catch your breath. “Just, uh—”

“You can tell me.”

He looks up at you. “Be gentle, please.”

That does the trick for you, and it does it immediately; between passionate kisses, you assure him that you’ll be ever so gentle as you slowly push him down on the bed and shove your hand down his underwear.

“S-shit—”

Dipping your tongue into his collarbones, your thumb strokes his head only to find it leaking. His cock feels hot and heavy against your palm, but it only pumps you up with the prospect of having it fuck you open. So, you stroke up and down, using his precum to ease the friction, while Taehyung’s breath hitches and his fingers sink onto the flesh beneath your buttocks. It makes you spread your legs on his lap and move to kiss him on the lips.

“Fuck, Taehyung—” you grunt, and he can’t believe his name can weigh so much in his mind coming from you. “Why a-are you so handsome?” you whine then. “It’s so unfair.”

His heart does a flip. “Could ask you the same—”

“So handsome and sweet and cute,” you whisper before kissing him again, splaying your free hand across his chest.

His cock feels about to burst, and he’s too turned on to pretend he’s not dying for you to pamper him more. So, he bucks his hips up and starts fucking your hand, painting against your mouth like a dog.

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself,” you whisper between kisses as you cup his face with both hands. “Be a good boy and take your pretty cock out first.”

With a whimper, Taehyung grabs your forearms for balance. Those two words stick with him as he fumbles with his underwear while you shove your ruined panties to the side. His heart is beating like crazy, but he wants to be a good boy for you; he’s a good boy, truly.

“Oh, Tae,” you moan.

You’re saying and calling him things that are too dangerous for his sanity.

But then you align his tip with your slit and sink down onto him, shutting off any kind of thought. A strike of pleasure rips your bodies as it works you open and puts them back together as soon as you start bouncing on his cock, feeling it massage your inner walls and hit that sweet spot. You’re dripping wet, he can feel it as he watches his cock disappearing into you, unable to utter a word besides heavy breaths and whimpers.

“Fuck,” you let out again, closing your eyes and working thigh muscles, “you feel s-so good, Tae, so fucking good—”

Taehyung writhes beneath you, not entirely sure about what to touch or where to kiss, and not exactly rational enough to stop and think about it.

Suddenly, you feel his hands cupping your breasts, thumbs brushing and playing with your hard nipples before the wet heat of his mouth engulfs one of them. You let out a groan as Taehyung sucks on your nipple and pinches the other, making you ride him faster. His whimpers are muffled against your skin.

“That’s it, baby, suck on my tits,” you moan, raking your nails through his hair, “good b-boy.”

Sounds of smacking flesh echo through the room while your ass strikes his hips again and again, squelching noises from the way his cock fucks into you. Your body is exhausted, but you’re in a frenzy, caught in a merciless tempo as you chase pleasure.

The ache between your legs only grows, and Taehyung’s lips move around your nipple, sucking, nibbling, letting a dribble of spit trickle down his chin.

“Oh fuck,” he suddenly cries out. “D-don’t stop, please—”

You let out a chuckle. “Wasn’t planning to— shit, Tae, you like my tits that much?”

“I’ve pictured this moment many times,” Taehyung says, leaving a trail of kisses up to your neck.

The mere idea that he’s noticed your breasts, let alone fantasise about them sends shivers down your spine and makes your face grow hot. How sly. Guess all those times you subconsciously picked the most revealing blouses and the best-fitting shirts have paid off; his hands really can’t decide what part of your body to grope.

“You’re so hot, shit,” he whimpers.

This time you cup your cheeks and slow down, riding him softly, drawn to his eyes; you’re staring into his pretty, dark eyes, and suddenly time feels slowed down as well. If it weren’t for the way your heart is pounding in your chest, you’d think you’ve frozen.

But the warmth of his palms on your back as he helps you up and down his cock grounds you.

You want to make him come hard inside of you. You can’t bring yourself to care about anything else right now that’s not his or your pleasure, his touch, his soft gaze, his pretty sounds.

Taehyung ducks his head in shame. “I-I’m close, I’m sorry—”

“It’s okay,” you cut him off with a whisper and kiss his cheek. “Let go for me, baby, come for me.”

Heat spreads under his skin, and soon he’s holding back his moans, rutting into you without any self-restraint. His golden skin is flushed and covered by a thin sheen of sweat, chest rising and falling. But it’s too much, and Taehyung starts letting out breathy moans until he goes still, and his gut tightens. He dissolves into pleasure, emptying himself inside of you with a choked sob and his arms wrapped tight around you.

You help him ride out his high before raising your hips. His cock slides off along with a trickle of his release, and you feel it go soft between your cheeks.

“I’m not done yet,” you murmur.

Then you start riding his pubic bone, amused by the way his spent cock twitches at the passive friction. But you’re too turned on, and your clit is too swollen and sensitive to bring you to care, and soon you’re coming around nothing.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpers. “Fuck, I’m— I don’t know what happened, usually I…”

You cut him off with a long, deep kiss that pushes him back to the bed. At some point – you don’t remember – and tangled in each other’s arms, you fall asleep.

Don’t hesitate to like, reblog, and leave some feedback if you liked it! It’s always good and encouraging to know what you think <3

#sub!taehyung #taehyung x reader #taehyung fanfic #taehyung office au #taehyung ceo au #taehyung smut #taehyung s2l #sub!bts #sub taehyung #sub bts

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yuzukult · 1 year

Text

crush 01 | jww & oc/reader

title: crush 01 / part of the attacca series pairing: jeon wonwoo x reader/oc (ft. seokmin) rating: 16+ (for this chapter) genre: angst, fluff, eventual smut, racecar driver!au, mechanic!au wc: 7.6k summary: all he knows are fast rides, drag-strips, and speed ovals until he meets you, someone that’s got his heart racing instead of his car. warnings: explicit language, smoking, suggestive content (but nothing follows through) a/n: !! sighs i know im back with another mechanic!au but !! hear me out, there’s racing involved okay !! i hope you guys enjoy this (and no i did not neglect my other series!! this just has been something i’ve been working on forever, so i hope you all like this :) -- and yes, i switched this from a one-shot to a series bc it was killing me how long i was holding it hostage !!

comment if you’d like to be included in the future taglist :) i’m starting fresh bc i felt bad for how long i’ve kept this lol

Nose twitching, you cross your arms over your chest with a thermos in hand, housing your favorite coffee—the Folgers’ classic roast instant coffee crystals that melt the moment it meets with boiling hot water because you can’t be bothered to wait for the coffee machine to brew the grinds. Normally, you’d be able to smell the freshness of the caffeine, but instead, you’re met with the aroma of burnt rubber on the asphalt wafting underneath your nose. Of course, you shouldn’t have expected anything else—this only ever happens at the track.

To be quite fair, you should’ve been used to all of this by now. The zooming of the cars when they make laps around the track, the whiff of the smoke that spits out of the exhaust, and the crisp clicking that the high-powered impact wrench makes when it’s changing the four tires on the cars at a pit box. And yet, every time you’re here, it feels like an entirely new experience.

Truthfully, you don’t know if you love it here. There’s always too much going on during the races; the chaos on the track, the abundance of people at the bleachers who watch attentively with their favorites in mind, the hollering and screaming, occasional fight breakouts, and the obsession with the cars themselves is too much to handle. You already have a lot going on in your day job—why are you even here?

Oh, right. Because that driver over there—the one with the chestnut color hair, beaming bright smile, and contagious laugh with that cute little beauty mark on his cheek—is your best friend. The one that you might be head over heels for since the beginning of time.

It’s a bit dramatic to introduce him like that, but it’s the only way your heart sees him. Helmet tucked underneath his arm, his loud yet saccharine guffaw fills the air as he exchanges words with one of his crew mates. You don’t know what that’s all about, but what you know is that he asked you to be here, claiming that you’re his ‘good luck charm’ of some sorts.

Whether or not that’s true, you’re still present.

Although you’ve voiced your feelings a handful of times, Lee Seokmin has made it clear: relationships aren’t his priority at the moment—his dreams are.

But, you remain by his side while wearing a blissfully oblivious mask, pretending like you don’t know about his late night escapades where he meets women at the track and takes them out for drinks before inviting them back to his hotel room. Clubs, afterparties, celebrations, tailgates—he’s encountered them through it all, but the only one he hasn’t brought back is you.

Mostly because he ‘treasures’ your relationship too much. You’re the type of person he’d take home to his mom, he says, not to a shoddy motel room right off the highway next to that gas station with the flickering vacancy sign.

And if this was someone else sharing their story, you would’ve told them to lose the guy and find someone worthwhile, someone who wouldn’t take their time for granted, and someone who would love them the way they deserved to be loved.

Unfortunately, this was you you were talking about here, and the only thing you are is delusional and clueless. (You can admit that much).

You choose to turn a blind eye when Seokmin is stumbling out of a club, shirt unbuttoned down to his chest, hooded gaze and slurring words with a girl underneath his arm with her skirt hitched nearly up to her upper thigh, breasts almost falling out of the cups of her top. Because even though he’s bringing her to his bed tonight, you hoped he’d eventually be ready to bring you to your shared forever home one day.

You want to be his everything, his endgame—so if this is what it takes to get there, you’d suffer a little.

(Sounds pathetic, you don’t need another reminder).

“You did good.” You grin, calling out to Seokmin who turns his attention to you. It seems like his smile gets wider at the sight of you walking down to where he’s stationed, wearing that sweatshirt he gave you last autumn with his car sewn in the pocket area and his name in the back.

“You probably didn’t know what you were watching,” he chuckles, handing off his helmet over to a teammate. Sometimes, you wondered if Seokmin knew their names without checking what’s sewn into their suits. “You just sit in the stands and watch me diligently. Do that thing where you furrow your brows like you’re concentrating.”

You mimic the description by scrunching up your face. “I’m not even a fan of racing, you asked me to come here.”

He pats your head affectionately. “I know. And I’m thankful for that.”

Your heart swells. It didn’t help that Seokmin was always like this, and because of that, he made it harder for you if you ever wanted to detach from him. He lures you in effortlessly, like you’re afflicted from the aftermath of a love potion but it’s all because of that charming smile that he shoots your way and not because you were shot by Cupid’s arrow itself.

Seokmin clears his throat, stuffing his hands into the front pockets of his racing overalls. He looks good like this; the white compliments him and brightens his face—not that he needs it but it compliments him. “Listen… I know you seem to always have the latest scoop on people…”

“I don’t, but go on.” Totally a lie, the last dinner you had with your friends was entirely a gossip session–but that’s besides the point.

“Have you ever heard of some guy by the name of Jeon Wonwoo?”

With a slight tilt of your head, you blink blankly. It’s not familiar, mostly because you don’t know the person yourself but also since the name hasn’t been brought up at any tea spilling outing. But from the tone of Seokmin’s voice, you’re almost tempted to do your own digging. “Jeon… Wonwoo… no, can’t say that rings a bell. What’s up?”

Seokmin waves you off, clicking his tongue after. “Some street racer. Said he was gonna come in here and start racing professionally. Can you believe that?” he scoffs in disbelief. “Doin’ it illegally then suddenly you want it as a career.”

You shrug. “I mean, everyone starts off somewhere. His start might’ve not been ideal, but at least he’s trying to make things right.”

For a moment, it’s hard to read the expression on Seokmin’s face. There’s a hint of annoyance, you manage to make out, but before he lets you analyze any further, it contorts into an adoring one as he leans over to ruffle your hair. Why does he purposely continue to tug on your heartstrings like this? It makes you feel like a middle school girl crushing on a boy in her class.

Are you really this whipped?

“You’re always looking for the good in people. Sweet, but street racers are assholes. If you ever meet one,” he states warily, but there’s a playful inflection embedded in his words, “don’t trust them. They’re bad news.”

But when he says that, you can’t help but get a flashback of all the times he’s hit on girls for a one night stand… in front of you, despite knowing your feelings for him. Or those times he’s led you on, had you on your toes, thinking that you’d be the next in line for his heart, but instead you find yourself here, as an equivalent to a four leaf clover, a rabbit’s foot or even a horseshoe for his tournaments.

Street racers aren’t the only bad people.

“Hey!”

Flinching, the two of you jolt your attention to the voice, and you spot a little Lee Chan in his matching porcelain white racing overalls as Seokmin—from the biggest to smallest companies out there, brands decorated Seokmin’s, and even though Chan only had two logos on his, he looked like the mini version of your best friend.

He grins cheekily, pointing to the one out of two brands on his clothes. ‘FIC’ in a red square with writing in brown is woven instead of some cheap iron-on patch right above his heart, and you let out a little laugh. “Your logo came!”

“Looks good, Channie.”

Seokmin furrows his brows. “The fuck is a FIC?”

You wave your navy blue thermos in his face before patting Chan’s back.

“Folgers’ Instant Coffee,” you both say in unison and Seokmin only shakes his head.

“Isn’t that copyright infringement?”

The two of you shrug in unison.

To Chan, Seokmin was a mentor. He had become everything Chan aspired to be—on the racetrack, that is, and getting to be this up and close to him was a dream come true. Seokmin is barely pushing twenty-five and he’s already won so many tournaments; trophies lined up the shelves back at his childhood house, providing nothing other than proving his mother wrong when she’d used to say ‘study, driving won’t get you anywhere in life!’ All this while bringing her home an abundance of gifts because there’s nothing better than refuting your mother’s expectations by exceeding them.

“Well,” Seokmin begins, tossing the driving gloves that one of his crew mates catches. “You’re gonna need a whole lot more sponsorship offers if you wanna upgrade your car. You can’t be riding that piece of shit on our track. Ruins the asphalt.”

“He could always drive my car.”

“Nobody wants your little ass 2004 Toyota Camry on our track,” he jokes, but you can sense the expression of Chan’s face dropping in your peripheral vision. “Chan needs a real car to make it.”

Chan juts out his bottom lip. “Those street racers—they always mod their cars and they still go super fast. Can’t we figure something out? Some people make it into the big leagues from working on their cars themselves and—”

“You can’t drive on the track with a mod, it’s gotta be a stock car,” Seokmin lets out a huge, frustrated sigh. “And can we cut the crap about those idiot street racers? They’re so fucking stupid, they can’t even figure out how to get into the main track, so they substitute it by racing illegally. Stop taking tips from those assholes. Just makes you one of ‘em.”

There he goes again. What’s his deal? You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but your best friend’s temper has shortened, and the tips of his ears were growing red each time the topic of those street racers would come up. And who the fuck was Wonwoo?

“Hey, you alright? You seem tense.” It’s only Friday, and although competitions happen on Saturdays, Seokmin doesn’t usually get nervous. But the way his fists clenched at his side is a different look on him. “You seem off.”

“Jeon Wonwoo is racing tomorrow,” he announces grimly, and even though you don’t know what that entails, the look of surprise and concern that washes over Chan’s face alludes to what it could mean.

“But—what—huh? How? And that’s so—oh my god, you’re gonna go up against one of the best street racers in our region. Or world, even,” Chan’s mouth won’t close and his eyes are practically bulging outside of its pockets. “What are you gonna do, Seok?”

“There’s no tier in street racing,” Seokmin scoffs, arms crossing over his chest in pride. “And I’m gonna bring the best to the table, that’s what. I’m not losing to a mediocre street racer.”

Didn’t he just say there wasn’t a tier for street racing?

You’ve spent a decent amount of time with Seokmin, and what’s strange about him today is that he looks… not as confident as he sounds. The words he says exudes the certainty he has for winning, but take that away and it’s been a blanket for his insecurity.

Was Lee Seokmin actually afraid of competing tomorrow? And if he was, why was this Wonwoo guy bugging him so much? Who was he? It didn’t help that your probing isn’t getting you anywhere.

“Coming tomorrow?” Seokmin asks you, but his eyes are elsewhere. Sneaking a glance, you notice his gaze is on one of the flag girls that you recalled from a race a couple weeks back. Black hair long enough to reach her ass, nose so pointy that it peeks through the clouds, and teeth so fucking white that it could blind you, she’s already bouncing her way to you three.

“Mm, yeah,” you respond as coolly as possible. Part of you wants him to remember how calm you were whenever he was pursuing other girls when he could’ve been after you. He’d rather have a girl like that in lieu of you. A cool girl. Well, sorta. You’re just chillin’… vibin’… going with the flow… patiently waiting for–who are you kidding? Why the fuck isn’t he yours yet? “As promised. Your lucky charm.” The words look sweet on paper, but they spill through your gritted teeth.

“Great.” He pats your shoulder. “Imma hang out with Chaeri. See you tomorrow?”

“Hah,” you let out an awkward laugh. “Yeah, yeah, tomorrow.”

You are, and will be forever, a hopeless romantic. Especially for Lee Seokmin.

As you watch him jog toward yet another pretty girl, Chan looks at you sympathetically. Geez, are you that pitiful? “Why do you keep waiting around for him?”

“I’m not.” Already, the mouthpiece of your thermos is at your lips.

“You should really consider going out and dating,” Chan suggests, watching as you do your best to avoid the topic by turning your head. “And I know you hate hearing it, but it’s really not worth it. I admire him as a driver, but as a boyfriend— let’s just say I don’t think Seok is going to change any time soon when it comes to his dating life. Maybe it’s better off finding another guy who would actually appreciate you coming to events like these. You don’t even like racing.”

“I… I like racing.” You don’t sound convincing, and the look on Chan’s face only confirms that he doesn’t believe you either.

You know Chan is right. Despite being younger, he’s got a lot of knowledge and words of wisdom to share – still doesn’t mean you want to listen though because you’re hard-headed and there’s a portion of you that’s a bit lovesick. There’s a dream that one day, Seokmin will realize that the person that was made for him was right beside him all along.

His best friend.

You.

But here you are, watching from the distance, him groping some chick’s ass on the side of a racetrack, ready to take her out for another day of fucking around.

Why do you insist on torturing yourself? You need to mentally smack yourself for not detaching your eyes from this very heart twisting scene.

“Fine,” you concede, shoulders dropping along with your efforts for that brief second. “Let’s go to a bar or something tonight. Pick me up? Then you can be my wingman.”

Chan’s smile stretches from ear to ear. “Great, I’m excited. We’ll find you someone with 8-pack abs, a sweet looking face, and a great personality.”

How do you tell Chan that finding someone with all the characteristics he described is pretty much impossible? For one, does he think someone with 8-pack abs and a sweet looking face could ever have a great personality? You swore the past couple guys you met on that dating site that your friends force you to hop on were exactly that—the type of attractive that had drool spilling from the corner of your lips that actually makes your head go blank until the morning after when you find yourself in their sheets and they still can’t tell you what 8 times 3 equals. How many times did you have to tell your friends that just because some of them found love online, it didn’t mean that you would too?

Nonetheless, the whole description of those men doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with a ‘great personality’ per say, but that adds onto it. If a guy can’t even do simple math or have any common sense, what good does having a nice personality do anyways?

You feel like you should give up. What the hell was Lee Chan thinking?

Puffing out a heavy sigh, you find your way through the crowd of people for that spot to lean against the wall. You’ll have to give him another list of reasons why this night cannot repeat itself, and you refuse to go on this dating venture that he wants you on. The bar he’s invited you to is packed—from the crowds that are hollering over the pool tables to the waves of people that frequent the counter, too awkward to stand elsewhere. The air was getting thick, so you opted to loiter at that spot by some old jukebox that’s probably been out of service since the year you were born.

From there, you spot Chan by the billiards table, cue sticks in hand with the cheekiest smile on his stupid face.

That’s when you spot the girl.

She’s got these cute baby blue jeans, white shirt with balloon sleeves, and cream chunky sneakers that make her even more adorable. As she shuffles over to lean over the table, she closes an eye in concentration, and with her stick, she does a quick push to hit the white ball. And she misses.

Chan releases the most melodious laugh, one saturated in nothing but elation at the sight of the girl who pouts and shoves him but the impact doesn’t do much to him. Pulling her close by her waist, he presses a gentle kiss onto the crown of her head.

Even that corny dork found love. You remember him talking about this girl he’s been dating since high school, Kyungmi, and how he’d been crushing on her since he saw her play at her soccer match. Granted, she slipped and fell onto the muddy field because she didn’t tie her shoelaces, her pants stained brown and he lent her his hoodie for her to wrap around her waist. Since then, they’ve been inseparable.

Why couldn’t you and Seokmin be like that?

Instead, he chooses to be a fucking ass.

Another weighted breath surrenders from your lungs as your shoulders slouches even further. The ice floating atop the margarita is thinning, a layer of water amassing above the alcoholic beverage. The loveseat is what it’s called; a strawberry lemonade margarita, the saccharine juices of both artificial fruit and a slice of the actual strawberry plopped in, it’s a combination of how you were starting to see love as. Seemingly naturally sweet, you eventually learn from the clumps of syrup at the bottom that it’s not as authentic as you used to think it was from the half cut berry that's saturated with liquor.

You take a sip of the watered down cocktail. So much for us, Lee Seokmin. Nose scrunching up, you’re debating if it’s from the thought of him or the tartness of the citrus.

Waiting for Seokmin was starting to become embarrassing. A hopeless romantic is a nickname you never thought you’d find yourself possessing, one that sounds good on the pages of a fairytale or on a screen of a romcom but in reality, it’s naive to be in an unrequited love. The words that leave his lips are nothing but just that—the dialogue of a screenplay meant for a melodrama and not the genuine feelings he inhabits. These types of plots were only interesting in a form of entertainment–not the realities of life.

Maybe you should fuck around. Why are you wasting time anyways? If Seokmin gets to, you should too.

Oh. Right.

After the fourth guy that tried offering to buy you a drink at the bar, you realize how despairing the dating scene is. It’s not for you—well, it’s particularly due to the fact that you’re at some hippie bar downtown; beanies on beanies on plaid and plaid and plaid… it’s not even that cold yet for autumn, what’s with these people with no variety in their closets?

But that’s not to mention that you get attached too fucking quickly.

Your high school love? What was his name again? Just kidding—of course you remember his name, you doodled it all over the pages of your notebook with hearts all around it. Kwon Soonyoung. He dyed his hair a sunflower blonde and spiked it up once he figured out how to use the machines at the gym. Fawning over him was an understatement; you were one of the girls that sat tables away at the lunchroom, chin resting on the palm of your hand with a longing sigh. How could a jock like him ever notice a simple girl like you?

And how did you fall for him in the first place?

Home room, 6:28am, just 2 minutes away from the bell. You dropped your pencil on the floor, ready to snatch it up but Soonyoung was faster. He handed it off to you, fingertips brushing against yours as he showcased that pearly white teeth of his. Then in the candied voice, he said, “yours?” followed by, “your lashes are pretty.”

You were smitten within seconds.

So, yeah. This whole fuck around thing wasn’t in the cards for you, which meant dating is a lot more of a serious topic than Seokmin sees it.

Maybe you’ll keep giving it a shot.

Then there’s this guy. Man. Gentleman? His name is Eunwoo (or something, that’s what you hear over the loud bass booming through the speakers above you… suddenly you’re wishing the jukebox worked), he’s a mechanic and he loves fixing up old cars. You propose the idea of working on your old beast and he let out a chuckle, shaking his head with a lovely smile before saying, “I don’t normally do personal favors but… only if you really want me to.” He approaches you with an interesting greeting, in verbatim, “you look like you’re here against your will. Would you kill me if I used a sleazy pick-up line to ask if I could get a shot to make it better?”

Usually, you’d say no. But… you honestly are kind of bored and how much more disappointed could you get? It already feels like the rock bottom of the dating pool anyways.

But, luckily enough, you’re proven wrong. He’s different—a good kind of different. Eunwoo shares about how didn’t go to college, deciding that opening his own shop and utilizing the experience he had during high school working underneath cars would be more beneficial than a degree in bullshit. And he doesn’t ask if you want another drink—the half drunken margarita with condensation dripping from the sides is enough to give away that you’re done with it for the night. A man with manners, great observation skills and boundaries? Wow, can someone sign you up? (You don’t know if you really mean that).

When a couple of wasted boys start yelling at each other, Eunwoo does this thing where his hand hovers over your back as he leans in just barely, respecting your space and asks, “Wanna move this over there?” with his head gesturing in a direction away from the ruckus.

Fuck. He’s… sweet.

But you can’t fucking help comparing him to Lee Seokmin.

Good or bad, you’re not entirely sure. What you do know is that Seokmin… doesn’t look at you in the same way that Eunwoo does. He’s intrigued, and the swirls of coffee cups for eyes he has is sodden with adoration. When you talk about your job, Eunwoo asks questions that range from ‘What is it that you exactly do?’ to ‘Is this your passion?’ He shows genuine interest, not even realizing that his shoulder is sore from leaning on the jukebox too long that when he shifts in his position, his arm cracks multiple times.

“Should we get outta here?” he asks, slipping the old silver Zippo lighter from his pocket as the two of you slip out of the bar. He pops a cigarette between those pretty lips, a clink sound when he flicks open the cap and the wick heats up the bud. “You’ll see that car of mine that I told ‘ya about and we can stop by that diner five minutes out.”

A 2008 Spicy Red KIA Sorento.

“For a car guy, I wasn’t really expecting… a simple KIA.”

He laughs; it’s gentle and kind, just like his eyes, and he unlocks the doors with a click of a button on the fob. “It’s a friend’s car. He wanted me to check on some stuff. Just driving it around to see if I can hear that funny rattling sound he’s talking about.”

“Hmm,” you hum in amusement, stopping in your tracks when the two of you approach his car. “Then what do you drive?”

Eunwoo turns to you with a soft chuckle. “A Toyota Prius.”

“I don’t usually get into guys’ cars that I just met,” you confess, and Eunwoo’s smile widens even further. “And you’re not the exception either. How about I give you my number instead? Maybe if I trust you enough, I’ll let you take me for a spin in that Prius.”

He rests back against his car, a soft chuckle escaping from his chest as he shakes his head. “Although I wanted to take you out for an oreo milkshake from a diner—”

“—I might need to pop a lactaid pill before that—”

Eunwoo bites his bottom lip from letting out another snicker. “—I’ll make sure to take you to it next time and that you take that anti-lactose or whatever pill. You know what makes a good diner?”

You tilt your head. “What’s that?”

“If at least one of the letters on the sign’s light goes out or flickers,” he frees the puff of smoke from his lips before tossing the filter to the ground and stomping it with the bottom of his shoe. “But I respect that. Don’t go to the homes or into cars of men you just met.”

Eunwoo unlocks his phone and clicks the green phone app before handing it to you. “I’ll text you. I got an early morning tomorrow anyway, it was probably best that you rejected my offer. After all, we would’ve talked all night.”

As cheesy as that pick up line is, it holds some truth.

Eunwoo texts you through the night—he’s funny, charming, and manages to make a simple conversation engaging. Do guys normally tell you about how they ripped their pants in front of their 4th grade classroom because they dropped their pencil during their book report read-aloud? He even got you spilling about how when you took a nap after an exam in high school, you woke yourself up from a fart and looked around to make sure no one heard that. And that’s why you never go anywhere in public after a fiber protein bar.

Then it had you thinking: why can’t Seokmin seem as interested in you as Eunwoo?

Never has he once had a conversation with you that led to the point that you were talking about the most embarrassing grade school stories. It reached to the point that you somehow looped the topic to be about the first time you’ve ever gotten so drunk, you fell asleep in front of your dorm’s vending machine! (To be fair, three of your other college friends were also knocked out in front of that very same machine).

And if you’re comparing all the boys you’ve loved before fairly, Soonyoung still ended up being your first relationship in spite of your constant inner dialogue telling you that he’d never be with you. You ended up breaking up because of college—he had gotten into his dream university that was thousands of miles away, and you couldn’t turn down the scholarship that was being offered by yours.

Seokmin is only centimeters away and still couldn’t give you the same attention that Soonyoung did in freshman year of college before you both realized it wasn’t going to work.

It’s Saturday.

Which means it’s the day.

When you spot Chan in a booth towards the front of the venue, he looks a little nervous–well, little feels like quite an understatement in that sentence. The boy is bouncing on the balls of his feet with his eyes skimming the entire arena like the very thing he’s afraid of is going to pop up at any second. He’s got on the same white racing overalls that match with the rest of Seokmin’s team with his name plastered across his back and the logos of the companies that sponsored him.

You hope that someone will wear Chan’s name one day.

There are girls that stand beside Chan in shirts with Seokmin’s numbers displayed and it leaves you wondering if he ever did anything more with them other than signing their paychecks.

“Hey,” you greet, furrowing your brows. The way Chan continuously checks his surroundings like a prey, awaiting to run away from its predator doesn’t get missed. “Where’s my sweatshirt?”

“Uh,” he stumbles with his phone in his hands, nearly dropping it on the floor before he shuffles through the shelves underneath to grab yours for you. “H-Here you go..”

You take the sweatshirt from him. “What’s up with you?”

“He’s on edge,” Chan says, fingers tapping against the table. “Well, he will be the moment he spots Wonwoo. And he could be here any minute now. I’m not sure how the fuck he’s gonna act, but he’s gonna react for sure.”

“I don’t get the whole deal with Wonwoo,” you say as you slip your arms through, pulling the sweatshirt over your head as your words get muffled in the thickness of the fabric. “He’s just some racer, right? Plus, Seok doesn’t even know how the guy drives. Why’s he so—”

As your head peeks through the neckband, you freeze when you hear that infamous name slip from Chan’s lips.

“O-Oh, hi, Wonwoo.”

“Hey, you’re… Chan, right?” he greets, hands in the front pockets of his blue jeans, a soft smile upon his face. “I saw you at that newbies tournament a couple weeks ago. You did so good, proud of you. I hope to see you with the big dogs one day.”

Hold up.

The charm, the gentle voice… those cute glasses…

He’s… Wonwoo.

The bar was infuriatingly loud that you misheard his name.

He’s not Eunwoo, and the fact that it didn’t register in your head fast enough when he kept giving you clues last night while the two of you texted until the sun rose was dumb on your part. He kept saying, “I need to get up early to drive tomorrow,” and spoke about his car incessantly like it was his passion or something. He’s fucking Wonwoo.

Well, no shit.

He’s a fucking racecar driver.

“Hey,” Wonwoo greets. He’s got on a dark washed denim jacket, and thin wire framed glasses that compliments the amiableness in his grin. There’s something about him that’s disparate to Seokmin, and you figure that it’s his affable nature drawing you in. Seokmin was a great friend, but it took a while to build that trust. Wonwoo? It only took a brief conversation for him to get your number. “Didn’t think I’d find you here. Did you sleep well?”

“Can’t say that I did,” you admit, words not matching that grin you mimic on his face. He’s so contagious when it comes to his smile. “But… I think the results of what came out of it was worth it. Did you sleep well?”

“Can’t say that I did either,” he mocks jokingly. Wonwoo’s eyes detach from yours, now averted to the image sewn into the right side of your sweatshirt. “I was going to ask what brings you here but…” he points to Seokmin’s prized possession—aka not your heart but ironically placed right above it. His car. “Seems like I know what team you’re playing for.”

“I—” you clear your throat, unsure why you’re stuttering or trying to explain yourself. You’re allowed to be here, even if you’re rooting for another driver. “I, uh, I’m here for Seokmin.”

Wonwoo raises a brow playfully. “Really? Is that so?”

Chan lets out a laugh; it seems that when Seokmin is in the room, he feels more anxious on the topic of Wonwoo. But when Wonwoo is present and Seokmin is out of the equation, the weight of the burden on his shoulders lessens. “She’s Seokmin’s lucky charm.”

“Oh, wow,” Wonwoo crosses his arms with an amused expression. “I knew it was too good to be true for you to be single. Did I make that assumption too soon? I’m sorry if I was too forward, I—”

“Oh, she’s not with Seokmin like that.”

Tempted to whack Chan on the shoulder, he’s quick with his reflexes when he realizes he must’ve struck a chord. “Hey, hey, hey, I’m just stating the facts here!” He steps away from you. “You and him aren’t official, and probably won’t be for a while or even at all. I’m just saying, if Wonwoo here is shooting his shot, maybe let him aim for you, yeah?”

You narrow your gaze at the younger male. “Lee Chan.”

Wonwoo furrows his brows in confusion. “What am I missing’ at here?”

“She’s a hopeless romantic,” Chan adds, nudging you. “Seokmin said that if she’d wait for him, he’d come to her when he’s ready.”

Wonwoo clicks his tongue. “Sounds kinda fucked up.” It is fucked up, but what is also fucked up is that Chan is exposing you. What if Wonwoo has a certain perspective of you now?

The stern tone in your voice when you call his name doesn’t feel threatening this time around, only because in his mind, he sees a new boyfriend candidate for you. Chan’s a brother you never had, a kid who wanted the best for the girl who was close enough to be his sister. He smiles, learning speedily that Wonwoo might be the first guy other than Seokmin to tug on your heartstrings.

“I mean, Seokmin might not be happy about it but he’s never been mad at you, so I doubt you’ll piss him off,” Chan grins cheekily. “So, Wonwoo. How do you know my lovely friend?”

“We met at the bar last night,” Wonwoo begins, and although the answer was for Chan, his sparkling irises are on you. So… he wasn’t put off by the whole thing? “Clicked, hopefully hit it off, she gave me her number, and we had a nice talk over text. Needless to say, we talked all night.” He chuckles, finally breaking contact with you and glances over at Chan. “Probably explains the dark circles under my eyes, but definitely worth it. Even if she’s wearing merch from my competitor.”

With a hand slipping into your own back pocket, you roll your lips. Okay. He’s endearing. Somehow, he manages to get you to forget about Seokmin for a brief moment.

Wonwoo zeroes in on you. “I don’t know about you, but I enjoyed our conversation. And I’m hoping that you’d be okay if I asked you on a date sometime… even if you have your reservations about taking it up because of him.”

Mouth slightly agape, the fear of the race dissipates from Chan. Instead, awe is replaced at the sight of you and Seokmin’s competition. Since when did you steal the heart of one of the best street racers? Even you have to mentally give yourself a pat on the shoulder for being able to swoon two desirable men. What is this? Some shitty written romance movie?

To be fair, you never really want to say yes when a guy asks you out. They’ve never given you a good reason to, especially when you had Seokmin on your mind most of the time. But for once, just this once, Wonwoo makes you forget. Somehow he fogs up your thoughts with him instead of the guy you’ve been waiting for so helplessly. It was to the point that you found yourself pathetic, even, but with Wonwoo, you don’t feel that way anymore.

He listens. And for someone who you only met for a day, he talked to you as if he’d known you for a lifetime. Wonwoo shared his deepest insecurities, his dreams, and the things and people he loved within those late hours.

It’s more than Seokmin has ever done and he’d been your best friend for a while.

“I’d… I think I’d like that.”

He sort of makes your heart skip a beat. “Great,” there was an excited bounce in his stance, “what’s one thing you’ve always wanted to do?”

“I don’t know, anything but changing a tire,” you say in a second, and Wonwoo laughs at your response. He’s really good at this whole ‘make a girl fall in love with me’ thing because your face heats up in embarrassment when you realize how lame your joke was. “… I’m just kidding. But I’ll let you make the plans.”

“Sure, I’ll plan the date.” Rolling his lips, he tilts his head to the side with a narrowed stare. “But, I should ask. Do you know how to change a tire?”

You shrug. “My best friend says if that ever happened, he’s a call away.”

“And if he’s not?”

“He will,” you answer, the tone in your words firm but underlying, the foundation of it is shaky. “He promised.”

There’s uneasiness in his expression, watching as you fiddle with your fingers as if you’re the one who feels uncertain about what you said. “Alright, if he says so. But uh,” he sneaks a glimpse at the television screen that displays on the side of the track, quickly patting Chan’s shoulder before giving the two of you a slight wave. “I gotta head out. I’ll talk to ‘ya later, yea?”

And with that, he disappears along with the crowd of people who begin to flood the arena with their tickets in hand and cups of beers in the other. Wonwoo was mysterious yet an open book in unison, and despite what people say about strangers at a bar, he doesn’t feel like one.

“Shit, before I interrogate you and Seokmin beats the shit out of us—well, me, he likes you—we gotta go. They’re preppin’ and I don’t wanna miss anything. I’m supposed to be the understudy and he’ll be so pissed if I’m late.” He’s stumbling to grab his belongings, “And he’s already dumb mad that I put whole milk instead of almond in his coffee this morning.”

Although the words are ready to leave the tip of your tongue, Chan bolts out of there faster than they could spill.

Then it hits.

At the moment, it happens in the blink of an eye. The amount of anxiety that was churning through your stomach, and your heart racing at the speed of the cars on the track, you didn’t realize the mess you caught yourself in.

You agreed to go on a date with your best friend’s enemy.

But in all honesty, you didn’t think you’d be able to confront Wonwoo again and tell him that you couldn’t. He was so goddamn fucking charming, exhibiting manners that all the mothers around the world would praise him for. Anyone who would find out that you turned down a date with a guy like Wonwoo would probably give you an earful.

Then again, Seokmin might give you an earful.

Maybe you won’t tell him.

It’s one date… right?

Plus, with Wonwoo being himself, there’s no way that Seokmin could actually be that annoyed with him. He spoke to Chan in such a respectful way, treated him like a younger classmate, and even expressed how proud he was of him for getting to where he is now. Seokmin couldn’t actually hate Wonwoo on the track. Couldn’t be possible.

That is until you saw living proof right in front of you.

Seokmin is tempted; fists clamped shut at his side, you see him inhale in a deep breath that juts his chest out. His nose does a little spasm, irritated even though he attempts to hold himself back. “Go back to where you belong.”

You find yourself back in Seokmin’s pit, expecting him to do his frequent routine before he hopped into the vehicle. Instead, he’s standing right outside of his car, face to face with Jeon Wonwoo who remains calm, cool, and collected, paying no mind that Seokmin is just inches away from driving his fist into Wonwoo’s cheekbone. It’s enticing, but Seokmin knows he can’t do it in public with thousands of people watching.

“Come on, Dokyeom, I’m allowed on the track,” he’s got a smug look on his face as he speaks. “It’s not like shit’s got your name outside the stadium. You don’t own it.”

“Dokyeom?” You reiterate, head turning from Wonwoo to Seokmin. “Why’s he calling you Dokyeom?”

Seokmin doesn’t break his stare on Wonwoo. Jaw clenched, teeth gritting, he even sucks in his cheeks in the heat of the moment with his fists fully balled by his sides. The fury in his eyes were burning flames that you fear would somehow spread into reality and burn the arena down. “Wonwoo, I thought you said you’d stay out of my way.”

“I never said anything,” the other male says tranquilly, zipping up his navy blue racing overalls up to his neck. In comparison to Seokmin, Wonwoo doesn’t have as many sponsors other than for three companies that barely had any fame to their name. “All I said was that I didn’t know if I'd make it up here with the big dogs. And well, look at me. Livin’ the dream. You should be proud of me, Kyeom, not throwing a bitch fit.”

“You fucking lied.”

“Why’s it matter?” Wonwoo queries, tilting his head to the side in curiosity. “Are you nervous? I thought you didn’t get nervous. Is it ‘cause you finally found someone with the equal amount of skill here? You can’t win forever, Kyeom-ie. One of these days, you gotta be kicked off that goddamn pedestal. Not a hot look for you.”

“Alright, alright,” you interject, pushing Seokmin’s (or was it Dokyeom’s) chest back to prevent him from making the first swing. “It’s almost time to start and I’d rather have you both behind the wheel without a bruised eye.”

“The only fucking bitch leaving here with a bruised face is him,” Seokmin hisses, but his body loosens the tenseness when he feels your touch. “Get off my turf, Jeon Wonwoo. You don’t belong here.”

And just on time, his name is written in bright letters across the television screens surrounding the arena.

JEON WONWOO, RACER NUMBER FIVE.

With a cocky grin, Wonwoo crosses his arms as he glances up at his name displayed and back on Seokmin. “It looks like everyone here begs to differ. See you on the track, Kyeomie.”

With an exasperated scoff, he tosses his gloves onto the ground. Wonwoo doesn’t bat a lash or even sneak a glance at the turmoil he leaves behind, instead he waltzes his way to his crew members who don’t dress in uniform as Seokmin’s team did.

“That jackass,” he hisses. “Does he fucking understand that this place isn’t for him?”

“Why’d he call you Dokyeom?” It’s bold of you to ask a question in the middle of his tantrum, but you’ve been patient enough. “I thought your real name was Seokmin.”

The anger still pulls on his features–he used to go soft for you. “It was a nickname I had.”

“From what?”

“Don’t ask,” he says curtly. “You don’t need to know my past—all you need to be is here. You’re my lucky charm and I need you here so I can win.”

With that, he slips his helmet on, flipping down the shield to cover his face. Ever since Wonwoo’s name was brought up in conversations, Seokmin’s demeanor changes and he doesn’t feel right; he isn’t quite the same person as he used to be. There’s something about Wonwoo that irritates him, and although he incessantly states that it’s because he’s a street racer, you think there’s more than what he lets out to be.

As told, you sit in the bleachers patiently, legs pressed together anxiously with your thermos filled with your coffee in hand, watching as Seokmin climbs into the driver’s seat of his vehicle.

Like you’re supposed to.

As you’re asked to.

Just as you always do.

There’s always this part of you that wonders: Is it worth waiting for a guy like Seokmin to notice you in the way you see him? During those late nights, the ones where he doesn’t go off into the sunset with a pretty girl under his arm, he lays underneath the stars with you, and reminds you that you’re the person that he wants to settle down with. Seokmin says he sees the two of you, on the porch with your rocking chairs of your future home with a big lawn, kids running on the grass with screams and laughter, sharing nothing but love for each other.

But each time he walks away with someone who isn’t you, the wait becomes more of a struggle.

It’s worse than waiting for the results of an exam that you know you failed, that feeling of being sick to your stomach and on the verge of vomiting. Your chest aches more than a sad, angsty romcom you’d watch back in your teenage years as if you’d experience the same heartbreak as the couples on the big screen.

← you’re at the beginning | next chapter →

#wonwoo #wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x oc #svt fanfic #svt #seventeen #seventeen fanfic

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adriennebarnes · 4 months

Text

We’re Just Friends

Pairing: Walter Marshall x Hispanic/Latina! Reader

Summary: In this, we will see the friendship between Walter and Y/N and Walter’s first act of protectiveness; let’s face it, it wasn’t his first time punching a man because of Y/N

A/N: If y’all have seen Gilmore Girls, Walter and Y/N will be like Luke and Lorelai in the way that they hang out outside of work. If y’all haven’t, Luke/Walter is known for being grumpy in his place of work and in general. BUT he lets Lorelai/YN who is basically a ray of sunshine on caffeine get away with EVERYTHING. Lorelai/YN call Luke/Walter if they need to rant or need something fixed, they have a good friendship, very “you came, you called”

Ever since Walter gave Y/N apology cookies, they were closer, they got to know each other. They even started hanging out at friends outside of work which was rare for Walter.

Walter and Y/N could be seen at the mall, shopping for Faye because Walter is clueless about what to get her. They were walking down the aisles at Barnes and Noble.

“How do you not know what to get your daughter, Don Refri?” Y/N asked him.

“I thought that name was for the district.” Walter said.

“That name is for everywhere, Don Refri. Seriously, how do you not know?” Y/N stopped walking and stood in front of him.

“I know what my daughter likes, the only problem is that I don’t know if Angie and her new husband have already bought it for her.” Walter said, looking down at Y/N (I'm 5'3 and a half, yes, my doctor counts the half inch, but Henry is 6'1 so he's pretty tall, whatever height you are, he will still be looking down at you)

“Yeah, divorce makes it harder. I’m Just guessing, my parents are still together.” Y/N said with a smile. (If they are divorced, ignore that last sentence) “How about a funko pop, does she like Marvel?" Y/N said, holding up a Captain America funko pop that was on the shelf.

"I think she is more of a DC fan." Walter said, poking the Superman funko pop on the shelf.

They could even be seen at Y/N's apartment drinking coffee.

"Thanks again for fixing my lock, it was driving me crazy.” Y/N said, giving Walter a pan dulce to drink with his coffee.

“Yeah of course, wouldn’t want you to feel unsafe in the neighborhood.” Walter said.

“Still, you could have come tomorrow but you came tonight, so I appreciate it.” Y/N said.

“It’s a 5 minute drive, you’re close by. What is this, by the way?” Walter asked

“It’s pan dulce, there’s a little Mexican bakery that i like to go to, really good, I gave you a concha.” Y/N said, also taking a bite out of her concha. Walter have it a taste.

“You’re right, it’s really good.” Walter said. They kept talking until Walter finished his coffee and they said goodbye.

The next day, Walter came into the police department with a thermos in hand and an paper bag in the other. He walked over to Y/N’s cubicle and knocked on her desk.

“Good morning, Don Refri, how are you today?” Y/N asked.

“Good morning to you too, Y/N, I’m good, and you?” Walter replied.

“Im good, what’s in the bag?” Y/N asked, she was curious to know what’s inside.

“I went to the coffee shop this morning and got you something. It might not be as good as the pan Dulce from your Mexican bakery, but this coffee shop is Latina owned.” Walter said and Y/N opened the paper bag and saw manteconchas and polvorones.

“Oh my gosh, they look so good, they smell good too, gracias Don Refri, ya te estás calentando.” Y/N said, giving him a hug. Walter hugged back and went to his office while Rachel turned to Y/N with a smirk on her face.

“Walter brought you Mexican pastries? How nice of him, looks like you might be his favorite.” Rachel said.

“Maybe it’s because I’m new, I’m sure the novelty will wear off.” Y/N said.

“Maybe, maybe not. Who knows.” Rachel said, going downstairs.

A week later, Y/N entered the department and it was all chaos, she walked over to Glasgow to see if he could tell her what’s going on.

“Why is everyone acting like my mom when Luis Miguel announced his tour?” Y/N asked.

“Detective Marshall finally found a lead to the guy who’s been trafficking teenaged girls. We got his license plate and planted a tracking device on his van so Walter asked me to see where the van stops and that’ll be this guy’s hide out,” Glasgow explained. A few minutes later, “I found him! He’s in an All Inc Warehouse!”

“Let’s get a move on, we’re finally gonna get this son of a bitch.” Walter said as he grabbed his gun and out on his vest to leave with the other officers.

“What does he mean by ‘finally’? Has this been a tough case?” Y/N said, finally being able to sit at her desk.

“Detective grumpy has been working on this case for a month. It’s been driving him crazy knowing that the guy was still out there.” Rachel said, walking in, sipping her coffee.

“Then I’m glad he’s finally catching him.” Y/N said.

An hour later, Walter walked into the district with the guy in handcuffs. Walter takes him downstairs to put him in a holding cell. He walked back upstairs.

“Y/N, i need to fill out a report, come with me please.” Walter said and Y/N followed him.

“Congratulations on the arrest, Don Refri. How does it feel?” Y/N asked.

“It feels good. How was the Mexican bread?” Walter asked.

“The polvorones we’re really good and the manteconcha was delicious. I saved you a polvorón because you have to try it. Where did you get them?” Y/N asked.

“I got it at Abogados Café.” Walter said. “What does that mean, by the way?”

“Lawyers coffee. Do they have Cuban coffee?” Y/N asked.

“I Don’t know, we can check it some other day.” Walter said.

Hours later, Walter and Y/N were finishing their paper work.

“Hey Don Refri, how do you feel about going to a bar tonight? You don’t have to drink, but I think it’ll be fun. We could celebrate that you finally solved that case! Rachel told me you’ve been working on that shit for a month.” Y/N said as she put on her jacket.

“I Don’t know about that, Y/N.” Walter said.

“Oh come on, it’s not like I’m asking you to get drunk. Let’s just go to a bar, you can play pool with the guys, I can eat some fries. We could go to Brunson’s Pub! Or Skinner’s or Iron Ranger, I don’t care, I just want a night out and I really don’t feel like cooking.” Y/N practically begged Walter as she was holding onto his biceps.

“Fine, fine, we’ll go to Brunson’s, they have more food there, I’ll tell the guys, you can tell Rachel. Group celebration.” Walter said and Y/N was happy. She texted Rachel about going to the pub and Rachel was down.

“Rachel said she’ll be there, what about Matthew and Glasgow?” Y/N said.

“Yeah, they’re coming too. You want me to drive you?” Walter said.

“And leave my car here?” Y/N asked.

“I’ll drive you to work tomorrow, it’ll be fine. This way you can drink as much as you want.” Walter said.

“Jaja, mira que funny eres.” Y/N said. They walked out of the department and got into Walter’s car. Walter put on a random playlist on Spotify. Y/N was looking out the window when she heard a familiar song, “Oh my gosh, I haven’t heard this song in forever. I love ‘colgando en tus manos’, my mom would play it in the house all the time.”

“Yeah, I found a playlist with Spanish songs, thought it would be good, maybe help with my Spanish with us being friends and all.” Walter said.

“You Don’t even know what Carlos Baute is singing right now.” Y/N commented.

“It doesn’t matter, you like this kind of music, right?” Walter asked.

“It reminds me of my life in Miami, before Latin music went mainstream.” Y/N said. They kept talking and listening to music until Walter parked in the parking lot at Brunson’s. They walked in together.

“Hey, look who made it! Detective Grumpy and his sunshine partner.” Matthew said.

“Hey, we’re not at work right now but I’m still your boss, watch it. How much have you had to drink?” Walter asked.

“He had 3 tequila shots.” Glasgow said.

“How did he get here?” Walter asked.

“I took an Uber.” Matthew said.

“Same.” Rachel and Glasgow said.

“Great, well I gotta stay sober because I have to take Y/N home. What do you want to drink?” Walter asked, turning to Y/N.

“I want a ‘bad hombre’ and you should get yourself a beer, we’re celebrating you, you should be able to let loose.” Y/N said.

“All right, I’ll go to the bar.” Walter said and Y/N slid into the booth. Walter came back with a beer, a “bad hombre” which has reposado and mezcal, and an Italian sandwich for Y/N. “Here you go.”

“Thank you, Don refri.” Y/N said. They were all talking and laughing, having a good time but Walter stepped away. “Damn, I’m running low, I’m gonna see of i Can get a beer, be right back.” Y/N said and walked to the bar when bumped into a tall man. “Oh I’m so sorry.”

“Nah, you’re good. Wait a minute, Y/N?” The man said and Y/N looked up to see a familiar face.

“No way, Mitch, how are you? What are you doing here in Minnesota?” Y/N asked as she hugged Mitch (Dylan O’Brien) a friend she made back in Virginia.

“My brother Steven wanted to go skiing. You want me to order you a beer?” Mitch asked.

“Yeah, get me a modelo.” Y/N said and Mitch told the bartender to get him two modelo beers. “Well, how’s the CIA treating you?”

“The CIA is fine. Listen, I’m sorry to hear that the FBI didn’t work out for you but maybe you can come back to Virginia and become part of the CIA.” Mitch said.

“I’d love to, but I’m not sure I can cut out as a CIA agent.” Y/N said. They kept talking and Walter got out of the bathroom to see Y/N talking to Mitch. He went back to his booth.

“Who’s that guy?” Walter asked.

“I Don’t know but he’s cute.” Rachel said. Walter went closer to hear their conversation.

“You’d do great. I swear, I would love to work with you.” Mitch said.

“Mitch, honestly, stop insisting, I’m not doing it.” Y/N said. All Walter heard was Y/N telling Mitch “no” so Walter got closer and..

“Didn’t you hear her? She said no.” And Walter decked Mitch, Mitch landing in the floor. Y/N got out of her stool.

“Walter! What did you do?” Y/N asked, facing Walter.

“Wasn’t he bothering you?” Walter asked.

“No! Walter this is Mitch, my friend who’s in the CIA. Mitch, this is Walter.” Y/N said as she helped Mitch off the floor.

“He’s your boyfriend or something?” Mitch asked.

“No, we’re just friends.” Y/N said and Walter walked outside the bar, he needed fresh air. “And he’s technically my boss at the police department. He’s a detective.”

“Well He’s quite protective of you. I should give you my number so we could hang out next time I’m in Minnesota.” Mitch said,

“That would be great.” Y/N said and they exchanged numbers. “It was great seeing you, I gotta talk to Walter.” Y/N walked outside and saw Walter leaning against his car. “What the hell was that in there?”

“Sorry, Y/N, I thought he was just a random drunk harassing you. I didn’t know he was a friend of yours.” Walter admitted.

“You could have asked. Just don’t do it again, okay.” Y/N said,

“I won’t. Are you sure you’re all right? He didn’t try anything?” Walter asked,

“Nah, Mitch is a good guy, he wanted me to ‘try out’ for the CIA but I told him no. Thanks for being protective though, I appreciate it.” Y/N said and she hugged him. “Can we go back inside? I’m kinda cold and this skirt isn’t helping.” Y/N said and Walter chuckled.

“Yeah, we can go back inside.” Walter said, leading her into the pub with his hand on the small of her back.

The End

Hope y’all liked it! i just guessed about the Latina owned coffee shop but then I was looking up coffee shops in Saint Paul and that’s when I found Abogados Café! I looked up the bars and the warehouses because I like my fanfics to be accurate when I’m writing about a state I don’t know anything about. Also, super sorry about the late “update”, I’m finishing up the fall semester and i have so much work to do but I’m procrastinating so…that’s gonna bite me in the ass when the time comes. Comment if you want to be added to the tag list

Taglist: @shellyshellshell @warriormirkwood @secretdream2

#hispanic reader #latina #hispanic #henry cavill x reader #walter marshall fanfiction #walter marshall x reader #walter marshall x you #henry cavill #night hunter #walter marshall

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moonchildstyles · 2 years

Note

Gravity h and yn need to get cheeky in the library

wordcount: 8k+

—————

"Harry, this doesn't even make sense. Why do we have to go over this if this wasn't even on the review sheet for the exam?"

(Y/N) couldn't help the frustration that seeped into her tone as she let her textbook fall flat against the surface of the table. Study materials were scattered all over, highlighters and pens with open notebooks filling the space and only adding to the chaos (Y/N) felt in her head.

"Because, love," Harry started, patience clear in his voice as he settled his hand on her own where it plucked at the creased pages of her textbook, "you know Stanfill always puts those essay questions at the end. It's always a formula or some kind of explanation needed on why a law works the way it does. You need to know these things for those questions, so y'can explain properly and get full credit. 'M only doing this to help you, flower."

"It just feels pointless," (Y/N) sighed, sitting back in her chair with her arms crossed over her chest.

They'd been going at this for hours at this point, and she was very quickly approaching the end of her rope. Their lunch break from hours ago consisted of Harry toddling down to the vending machines on the first floor of the library, returning with a pair of those prepackaged sandwiches that came from one of the refrigerated carousels, full of wilted lettuce and soggy bread. The endless studying had been enough to put (Y/N) in a bad mood, but now her lack of caffeine and edible food was nudging her closer and closer to the edge. Then, as soon as Harry threw away the remains of their 'lunch', they got right back to work, pounding formulas and equations into (Y/N)'s head over and over.

Of course, this was all made easier by the fact she was going through it with Harry at her side, but she didn't know how much more she could take before she snapped. She had to do all of this—memorizing formulas, take into account Stanfill's strategically complicated questions, and buy useless textbooks—for a class she wasn't even required to be taking! Just that reminder had (Y/N) souring even further. Her only saving grace for the afternoon had been the quiet corner of the library they had all but taken over in the months since they started huddling back here regularly; at least no one else was around to see her have her tantrum.

"(Y/N), flower," Harry murmured to her, twisting in his seat to face her directly, knees knocking into her chair as he lent close to her, "you've got to calm down, yeah? Tell me how I can help you, love. I don't like seeing you so stressed."

"I just want to go home, Harry," she pouted, feeling just as petulant and childish as she knew she looked. "Let's just do this tomorrow instead or something."

"We don't have time tomorrow, remember?" Harry spoke to her gently, knowing just how much of a time bomb she was at the moment, "I've got a couple of things to take care of for work, and you promised Naomi you would help with her art history project. We need to finish this today."

"But, I don't want to."

"Hey," Harry said sharply, catching her attention though his voice was quiet, "Y'don't need to be pouting over this, (Y/N). We have one more section to go over, then I'll get y'some dinner and we'll go home."

There was something about seeing him in his cozy sweaters—today's selection consisted of a green, paisley crocheted piece that slouched over his arms—and glasses, the hallmarks of the Harry she fell in love with during her physics course, speaking in the same tone she remembers discovering through her headphones late at night. The two opposite worlds colliding was still something she had to wrap her head around whenever she was faced with it.

"Fine," she relented, uncrossing her arms and hunching over her textbook once more.

A quiet sigh sounded from beside her. "We'll be fast, flower, I promise," he murmured to her, a careful hand reaching out to brush her hair from her face before his lips were pressed to her cheek in a sweet kiss.

With a small smile cracking her lips, (Y/N) resumed working on the formula he was having her breakdown in hopes of helping her understand the big picture. At her side, Harry worked on his own section, something a little more advanced that she hadn't completely caught during lecture the previous week. With her attention trained on the problem in front of her, blue notebook lines beginning to blur, (Y/N) couldn't hold back the huff that left her lungs. The jumble of numbers and variables, fractions and unknowns, were starting to look even more foreign than usual the longer she stared. She was sure if she worked hard enough, took enough time to examine the equation, she would figure it out just fine. But, she couldn't focus anymore. No part of her brain was left unscrambled, at this point.

"Keep trying, flower, 's alright," Harry absently soothed her, his eyes focused on his book though he reached his hand over to settle on her thigh. "You know how to do this, I promise."

Though she wanted to refute his claim, complain that she didn't know how to solve it, she held her tongue. As dizzying as it was to hear his cam-voice moments before, stern and attention-grabbing, she wasn't in the mood to be reprimanded.

Just as she started work on calculating a variable needed for the main equation, (Y/N) felt a squeeze to her thigh. The hem of her skirt gave way to Harry's grip, shifting some as his fingertips dented her skin. She willed herself to not become distracted, to keep pushing on so she could show Harry her progress and get home sooner. But, he did it again.

Peeking her head up, she flicked her gaze to her side only to find Harry still dutifully studying away. (Y/N) had to look down at her lap to verify he really was touching her as he seemed so unbothered, she worried her scrambled brain was making it up. As expected, she found his yellow painted fingernails gleaming brightly against the peach coloring of her skirt, fingertips lightly pressing into her thigh before relaxing.

"What's wrong?" he asked, looking to her after a beat of her gaze burning into his hand. His brows were raised over the frames of his glasses as he gazed at her, eyes seeming brighter with the help of his earthen-hued cardigan.

(Y/N) was quick to shake her head. "Nothing," she answered.

From the corner of her eye, she spotted the way Harry flitted his gaze to his hand in her lap before gauging her reaction once more from her profile. His eyes assessed her, lingering for a long moment before he gave a shake of his own head and turned back to his work. Now, without his gaze calculating her every move, (Y/N) couldn't help but feel embarrassed.

Her brain was becoming so fried, she was taking any kind of distraction and running, even when Harry was being nothing but affectionate and sweet to her.

With enough effort, (Y/N) was able to resume her studying of the equation. Getting further this time with her studying, pieces began to fall into place. Harry's hand was nothing more than a comforting weight as she plugged the calculated variable into the formula. One piece of the puzzle was finally figured out.

A little bit of pride slipped its way into the set of her shoulders as she started work on the next part. She could do this.

When Harry started circling his thumb on the inside of her thigh, (Y/N) didn't pay too much attention to the touch, clinging to the roll she was on to get through the problem. It wasn't until his thumb pushed her skirt out of the way, allowing him to inch higher over her sensitive skin, that she gave pause. With her pen to paper, (Y/N) lagged in her thought process, aware of his touch growing more and more intentioned. Peeking to her lap, the embroidered daisies decorating the hem of her skirt stood no chance as Harry subtly pushed the fabric out of the way.

Casting her gaze around their corner of the library, (Y/N) found they were still completely alone, concealed by stacks and stacks of "non-fiction mystery" (she had asked Harry once if that was basically true crime, and why they didn't just call it that, and he had shook his head and shrugged. If he didn't know the answer, she figured there wasn't one). Still, their privacy didn't much explain why he was growing bold with his subtle touching.

"Keep working, flower. Don't get distracted," Harry said, drawing her back to their claimed table with a stern direction in his tone. All the while, his thumb didn't stop burrowing against her skin, goosebumps following in his wake.

It was easy for (Y/N) to listen to direction when he used that voice with her, just a step away from his deep cam-voice. Though her follow-through on not getting distracted was yet to be seen, she still made a point to train her eyes on her notebook. The practice problem was getting easier with every piece she put together, but the numbers were beginning to jumble again with every twirl of Harry's thumb along her skin.

With no small amount of effort, (Y/N) found herself refocusing on the equation, tracing back to her stopping point and going on from there. A cinch tightened her brows as she worked, willing herself to stay on track and not drop to the hand in her lap. The harder she worked, Harry seemed to trail his hand up higher on her thigh.

His palm slid over her leg, skimming over her skin before he settled over the soft inside of her thigh. Goosebumps layered over her skin, urging (Y/N) to pay attention to the game he was playing. The second variable in line to be solved took longer to be pieced together as she inched towards the solution even slower than the way Harry worked up her thigh.

She didn't know how long her pen sat with the tip pressed against her paper, no progress being made, only that as soon as she stopped concentrating so did the movement of Harry's hand. With her mouth dropped in a small gape and brows downturned, turning towards Harry, she couldn't help the whine that threatened to fall from her lips.

Before she had a chance to do so, Harry cut her off with a squeeze to her leg though his attention never strayed from his own notebook. "Keep going, sweetheart. No reason to be stopping."

"But, Harry, you're—"

"I know, darling," he said, nonchalance carrying his tone as he kept his gaze trained on his textbook, "Keep going and so will I."

So, that was the game he was playing. A game (Y/N) was going to lose.

Her mouth ran dry as she couldn't find it in herself to draw her eyes away from Harry's focused form, his pen moving purposefully over his notebook page before reaching for his handy highlighter. The only tell he had that gave away the fact he was paying her any mind was the pinch in his brows, the frames of his glasses not thick enough to hide that. This was H in control, using the facade of her sweet Harry as a distraction.

One more protest was geared up to leave (Y/N)'s lip before she felt Harry's hand begin to inch its way back down her leg, leaving her skin cold in his wake as his warmth retracted down the length of her thigh. She didn't even think before she reached out and grabbed his wrist, keeping him from moving any further away from where she was fluttering for him.

"Wait, don't—"

A sharp glance was given over the frames of Harry's glasses, eyes clear and bright like she was used to, though he was just as demanding as his online facade she'd fantasized about. "Keep working then, and I'll give y'what y'want. Be good for me."

Feeling her mouth drop into a small gape, (Y/N) felt stunned in the back of the library. Harry was only ever like this in private with her or in front of his webcam, never having grown bold like this where someone could easily spot them. She was sure the secluded nature of their preferred spot was something that reassured him, but still, any loose wanderer on the second floor could find their way back here by accident.

"Y'need to relax, sweetheart," Harry crooned to her, his voice softening as much as his demanding gaze as he pulled her attention back to him. "I promise all of our studying is going to be worth it, I jus' think y'might need a little bit of extra help from me." It was easy for (Y/N) to pin her unwavering attention on him, listening to every word that fell from his lips as he looked at her with the same intensity she associated with the man he was between the sheets. With parted lips and wide eyes, she gave him a stilted nod and a quiet okay.

A short smile took Harry's features as he squeezed her thigh under the table. He liked when he had this kind of effect on her, that much she knew; any reminder that despite how shy and private he was in their day-to-day lives, he was still the one in charge when it came down to it.

"Yeah?" he pressed, his voice quiet in their corner as he gave her the full of his attention from behind his tortoiseshell framed glasses, "'S alright if we play like this? If I motivate you a little?"

She didn't even need to think before (Y/N) was nodding her head again, the movement sending the strands of hair framing her face aflutter. She'd never had a study buddy as smart as him, so there was no reason not to trust his tactics.

"C'mere," he beckoned to her through his growing smile, dropping his highlighter before he reached out to cradle her cheek once she was close enough.

His palm cushioned her face as he drew her in for a kiss. The contact was short but sweet, the trademark Harry kiss he always gave her when they were in public, despite the grip he still held on her thigh with his other limb. "Y'can do it, flower," he encouraged her through the kiss, "You jus' keep working, and I'll take care of the rest, yeah?"

A breathy yeah fell from (Y/N)'s lips just before Harry pressed a lingering kiss to the corner of her mouth. With a short laugh coming from Harry at her quiet willingness, he drew away just enough to look at her face with his kind eyes.

"Good girl," he praised her, watching as she all but melted at the words he knew she loved to hear from him. (Y/N) felt her features soften and round out as she listened to him, a flutter of her lashes urging her to close her eyes at just the sound of his smooth voice lulling her to wherever he wanted to take her for the afternoon.

Giving a gentle pat to her cheek, Harry gave her one last smile she spotted through the frame of her lashes before he resumed his work, leaving only his hand on her leg. Her gaze lingered over him for a moment longer, the ghost of his hand on her cheek warming her skin. It was only when he cast a glance at her from the corner of his eye, brow raised, that she realized she wasn't holding up her side of the bargain.

Directing her attention back to her notebook and the practice problem up top printed in Harry's handwriting, she did her best to clock back in and focus just as he asked. As she found her footing again, tracing back to the scribbles she had started before she was supremely distracted, Harry's hand stayed put. Though it was good for her struggling brain to not be fighting off the stimulating touches, it wasn't exactly the reaction she was hoping for as she started her work on the variable.

Without the distraction of his playing, (Y/N) found herself resuming her work at tracing out her missing variable, even if she had to stop herself from looking down to her lap every time she was stuck on a specific point. Soon enough, Harry restarted his own game, his thumb inching her skirt of the way before he was tracing along the inside of her thigh in a warming caress. Absently, (Y/N) spread her legs wider under the table, allowing him more room to slide his hand up.

The only indication that he was aware of her doing was the breathy laugh that fell from Harry's lips as he paused his hand, half of the appendage having disappeared under the hem of her skirt. Knowing what would happen if she allowed herself to become distracted now, (Y/N) rolled her bottom lip between her teeth and urged herself to keep working. The pace of her thoughts surrounding physics slowed the longer Harry touched at her skin, even more so when he resumed the circling of his thumb over the sensitive inside of her thigh, but she kept at it as much as she could.

Harry rewarded her as he inched further up her leg, his hand effectively disappearing under her skirt as he angled himself just right to keep the hem from catching. The embroidered daisies on the fabric now curled around his wrist like a bracelet.

(Y/N)'s pen stuttered over the page as she felt the tip of his fingers nudge at the crease of her thigh, just where the stitch of her panties sat as they shielded her intimacy. The air in her lungs came out stilted as she did what she could to refocus, even when Harry used his leverage to widen the spread of her thighs, giving him enough room to slide his palm over her center if he wanted (which she hoped he did).

Her handwriting grew shaky as she plugged in the second variable, with only one more standing in her way before she could work out the equation itself. Her grip was tight around her pen as she urged herself to keep focused, needing to feel more of his touch through her panties. Suddenly, Harry's shoulder bumped at her own as he lent over to peer over her paper.

"Looks good, flower," he praised, an easy smile on his lips, "Only a couple more pieces then I think you've got it. Let me see when you're done, alright?"

"Okay, Harry," she breathed out, his name rolling off her lips in the tone of a plea.

The sound only further widened Harry's smile.

Her writing began to dent the pages with the pressure she applied to her pen as she worked, very aware of the touch of Harry's fingers as he traced over the edge of her panties. She felt herself clench and tummy jump with each nudge, her body already wishing he was closer with the faintest touches.

But, she could do this, she reminded herself. She needed to keep up her end of the bargain and calculate the formula if she wanted to get anymore from him.

Until, she hit a wall of course.

The final variable she was calculating didn't line up with the direction she swore she was going when she solved the earlier ones. With her bottom lip being worried between her teeth, she searched for her error as quickly as she could before Harry could notice that she had stalled. Scribbling out her current equation, she tried to start over from scratch, but lagged even more when she didn't know where that new beginning was. All the while, Harry's twirling fingers didn't stop the slow climb over her panties.

That is until she felt him press into her side again, his shoulder strong and steady as he bumped into her own. Scanning over her page, Harry stopped his movements under her skirt but didn't retreat his hand from where it warmed her skin. "What happened, flower? What's all this?" he asked her, pointing to her scribbled equation with his free hand.

"I think I'm stuck," she admitted.

"Yeah?" he continued, double checking her previous work as he peered over her page, "Where are y'stuck? Everything else looks right to me."

"My—um—the last one I was figuring out didn't match up with the others like I thought it would," she explained, hyperaware of the squeeze he delivered to her thigh as she spoke, "I don't know what I did wrong, so I tried to start over, but it still doesn't make sense."

"Okay," he hummed, "Let's see then." His fingers under her skirt began to prattle in the same way she knew they did when he was concentrating. Every brush of his fingertips over her panty-covered core pulled her mind adrift, making it that much harder for her to tune into his directions as he tried to help her through her rough spot. "How'd y'get this variable, sweetheart?"

(Y/N) followed the line of his finger as he pointed at the second answer she had come to. She floundered over her response as she pictured that same finger being one that was edging under her skirt, brushing over the outline of her slit through her panties, being both a distracting and motivating factor. "I—uh—I used that equation we went over last week," she swallowed, her brows cinching together as she had to concentrate on her own writing, "The long form one, I think."

"You think?" Harry teased her, settling his chin in his palm as he looked over her page, a short smile tugging at the edge of his lips, "And y'tried to use the same one for this last variable?"

"Uh-huh," she sounded, nodding her head, "Wasn't I supposed to?"

Harry hummed as he canted his head with gaze still on the paper. "Y'can," he emphasized, "But 's easier to get tripped up using that one when you're calculating something like this. Why don't y'try this one, and see if that helps."

Drawing her gaze to her textbook, Harry pointed out a different equation she'd only seen Stanfill demonstrate once or twice during lecture, both times she was much too busy trying to backtrack on the previous slides of notes to pay enough attention.

"I don't think I know that one, though," she told him, having half the mind to feel silly at her admission, but there wasn't much room in her head with her concentration stretched in two completely different directions.

"Oh," Harry nodded his head, flicking his gaze to her face, "We haven't gone over that one together yet, have we?"

(Y/N) could only manage a shake of her head.

"Want me to show y'how?"

The one word that had been on her mind since he began playing his game finally made its way out: "Please."

A lopsided grin touched at his lips, only a single dimple denting his cheek as he pointed at the first half of her algorithm. "Start here for me, then, yeah? Copy this piece down."

Doing as she was told, (Y/N) listened to each direction Harry gave her. He broke down each step as they passed it, telling her where he got the numbers he wanted her to plug in and where to carry the variables. (Y/N) found herself absorbing the information as he explained it, though she missed the game he had started between her legs.

"Okay, now calculate this piece for me," Harry directed her, nodding down to the page as she kept watch over her math.

Just as she had done since he offered his step-by-step help, (Y/N) dutifully began taking care of the half of the formula he wanted done. She was aware of his eyes on her as she worked, but she wanted nothing more than to be done at this point. Maybe he was waiting to play with her again until she was finished and they were on the way back to his place; if that was the case, she didn't want to spend anymore time in the back of the library than she had to.

That is, until he shifted his hand under her skirt, finally covering her core with his palm. The press of the heel against her clit sent a jolt up her spine, enough pressure to take her breath from her lungs. Her pen stuttered over the page, a stray line appearing in the middle of her calculations as she grew shaky.

"Keep going, flower," Harry encouraged her, his fingers tracing over her slit though the fabric of her underwear as he pressed his palm against her clit, "You're doing so good, don't stop now."

When she gave only a nod of her head, Harry rewarded her with a swirl of his palm over her clit, the heel digging in with the perfect amount of pressure to get her thighs clenching on either side of his hand. As much as she wanted this touch against her form—she had been moments away from begging him for more since he began teasing her in the first place—, that was all it took to wipe her brain clean of anything physics related, especially to do with this equation.

"I-I don't know what to do next," she peeped out, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth to fight off the moan that touched at the back of her throat.

"Yes, y'do," he told her, dipping his head down and pressing a kiss to her temple, "Finish this one part for me, and I'll pull your panties to the side and give y'what y'want."

Though her grip on her pen wavered as she fought to find her place, she kept trying until she pressed on to where Harry had been directing her. More than once (usually coinciding with a squeeze of Harry's hand over her pussy or a grind of his palm over her clit), (Y/N) lost her place, earning only a short reprimand from Harry as he tsked at her and told her to keep going. Everytime she would bite back her moan and nod her head.

Though it was in shaky handwriting, nothing like the looping forms that were scrawled across the previous pages of her notebook, (Y/N) finally came up with an answer. With Harry peering over her shoulder, calculating her result, she almost wanted to cross her thighs in hopes of bringing good luck since her fingers were clenched to move (and she could trap his hand against her like that). As soon as (Y/N) could feel the stretch of his smile against her skin as he nudged his nose at her cheek, relief almost as sweet as his touch flooded her system.

"Good girl. See?" he prodded at her as he whispered in her ear, "Y'knew jus' what to do. Now, put it all together and finish the formula."

At that final direction, (Y/N) had only a moment with a somewhat clear head before Harry did as promised as pulled his hand back only to pluck her panties out of the way. The first touch of his fingertips over her bare skin was enough to have (Y/N) freezing in place. Her lashes fluttered as she fought to keep her eyes open as he dipped into her wet slit, the quietest of slick noises sounding in their private corner of the library as he found just how ready for him she had been.

"Oh, H," she sighed, her voice wavering as she fought to keep her legs from wrapping around his hand. The problem in her notebook was long forgotten now that she could bask in her reward for doing as he asked.

"I know, sweetheart, I know," he crooned to her, his fingertips brushing over the bud of her clit in gentle strokes, "Gotta finish this for me, and I'll give y'more, yeah?"

To prove his promise, Harry nudged at her fluttering hole with the tip of his fingers, teasing her some as she let out a gasp that she didn't have a chance of swallowing down before it was let loose. She couldn't stop herself before she wrapped her free hand around the wrist of the hand between her legs, something to anchor herself to the moment while she tried to tune into the numbers scribbled out on her page.

As simple as Harry had made it sound, to just finish the formula and she would have more of him, it wasn't that easy as she urged herself to focus. The distraction of his hand on her leg had nothing on what he was doing now; slick draws of his finger through her slit, spreading her wetness around with the cut of her panties tight over his hand, nudging her clit with tender strokes, and prodding at her weeping hole that wished he would just give in and slid a finger in already. How was she supposed to understand any kind of algorithm when he was doing everything he could to draw her mind elsewhere?

"I-I can't," she whined out, her grip on his wrist tightening as she finally turned to face him, "It's too much."

The clear green of Harry's eyes were sacrificed as the black of his pupil blew wide over his iris. He had the kind of gauging look she had become so used to when they were huddled between the sheets, where he looked for any and every reaction he could draw from her and find what made her the most pliant and wet for him. Those months of him being too shy to reciprocate her gaze during lecture felt like a joke when he looked at her like this.

"Yes, y'can, flower," he urged her, his free hand coming to pinch her chin between his thumb and forefinger, "Y'need to listen to me and focus, 'kay? I know 's hard but that's no reason to stop when 'm being so nice to you, is it?"

Her response was automatic as she shook her head.

A pleased smile took Harry's features. "Good girl, sweetheart. Finish this for me, then I'll finger you, yeah?"

Hearing such blunt terms made (Y/N)'s tummy jump and her empty hole flutter around nothing. The reaction only made Harry let out a breathy laugh. That was the only answer he needed.

"You're cute," he murmured to her, pressing a kiss to her gaping lips before he used his grip on her chin to push her attention back to her notebook.

Pointing out her stopping point, Harry directed her on where to pick up, his hand between her thighs slowing until she resumed her work. As much as Harry encouraged her, the answer wasn't easy to find even with as much concentration as she could muster in that moment. His hand picked up under her skirt as she worked, teasing her opening and nudging her clit enough to get (Y/N)'s breathing off kilter and her bones turning to mush the more he played.

After a few long, long minutes, her wetness beginning to seep between her legs with the threat of leaving a trace on the chair beneath her, Harry watched as she put together her answer to the formula. The result was presented in a bold font with blocky characters unlike (Y/N)'s regular handwriting, the pressure of her pen having almost sunk through the college-ruled pages with how hard she pressed against page.

"I'm done, I'm done," she bubbled off, dropping her utensil and sinking into the chair as Harry looked over her work.

It took a quick scan of his gaze over the page, his smile growing as he did so, before he looked to her with a lopsided grin. "That's perfect, sweetheart," he told her, "I told you, you can do it."

(Y/N) wanted to feel accomplished with his earned praise. She wanted pride to lift her shoulders and clear her gaze, but that was the last thing on her mind the second she felt his fingers finally push deeper inside her hole after all of the teasing brushes he'd dealt just moments ago.

As he sunk his finger deep inside her, the slick noises sounding between them in the silent library, (Y/N) let out a sigh she hadn't known she was holding. Her hand around his wrist tightened, keeping him just where he was with his palm pressing into her budding clit and his finger working itself inside of her.

"You're so wet, sweetheart," he crooned in her ear, still careful of the public setting they were in no matter how secluded, "So easy for me to slip right inside, wasn't it?"

Dropping her head over the back of her chair, (Y/N) allowed her eyes to fall to a close with a flutter of her lashes. She nodded her head with a breathless whine, unable to say much more without crumbling right where she sat. With all the practice they'd had, Harry knew every spot inside that had her clenching around him with the rest of her body growing soft and pliant.

Brushing the pad of his finger over the spongy bit that dotted one of her inner walls, he got just that reaction. (Y/N) couldn't help herself as she clenched her thighs tight around his hand, chest arching off the back of the chair as the air was sucked out of her lungs.

"Shh, shhh," he hushed her, using his freehand to grab for her own and lacing their fingers together, "Gotta be quiet, yeah? Don't need anyone coming up here and finding you all spread out for me like this, do we?"

"No, no, no," she bubbled off, shaking her head as she hair fluttered around her, "You're just—That's—"

"I know," he cooed, pressing a kiss to the space just before her ear, "I know. I found your spot again, didn't I?" Her response came in a small whine of confirmation, her bottom lip going swollen between the blunt of her teeth as she did her best to keep her volume contained. "Don't worry, 'm not gonna make y'squirt right now, flower. Can't have y'walking out with me all messy, but 'm still gonna take good care of you."

At the mention of the messy orgasm, (Y/N) felt her body tense and walls flutter tight around his fingers. He was the only one that could draw that reaction out of her, no matter how many times she had fingered herself in the past or listened to Harry's instructions over the phone when they were apart. Harry was the only one that could do that for her; the only one that knew how to play with her body just so that she couldn't keep it all inside.

A hum rumbled Harry's throat as she felt him smile against her skin. "Or maybe I will if it makes y'get whiny like that. Would y'like that? Having daddy make y'squirt in the middle of our study session, and make y'walk out with it running down your legs?"

The way he talked to her was her biggest weakness, and he knew that. Even if he wouldn't completely follow through with some of his suggestions he made in the heat of the moment, knowing that they crossed his mind at all took (Y/N)'s breath away and made her head muddled with mantras of only his name.

A small shake of her head had (Y/N)'s cheek bumping Harry's nose as he didn't dare stray back from her. "Only want you t-to see me like that, daddy."

"I know, sweetheart," he said, smearing the words across her cheekbone as he kissed her skin, "Won't let anyone see y'like that. Seeing you all wet and messy is just for me, isn't it?"

"Uh-huh," she breathed, turning her head to face him for just a moment before she buried her face in his neck. "Just you."

Harry unlaced their hands, (Y/N) quick to fill her palm with the knit of Harry's jumper, while he reached for the curve of her waist and cradled her to his chest. With every smear of his palm against her clit and press of his fingers inside her, her walls grew tighter and thighs clenched around his hand. Her breathing could only be described as erratic as she pressed herself into Harry's form, trying to hide the effects he was having on her as best she could the closer she drew to the edge of her orgasm. All of his prior teasing had done her in by the time he finally relented and slipped his finger inside.

"You're so good, flower, so good," he murmured to her, his kiss getting lost in her hair as he pressed his lips into the strands, "Y'deserve another finger, don't you?"

Her please was muffled against his throat, though Harry heard loud and clear as he followed through. Slipping his one finger out, he doubled up with his middle joining the fray before he worked the duo inside in a sleek thrust. The extra stretch hit the perfect angle on (Y/N), her mouth dropping into a gape with her breathing coming out in shallow puffs. Her fist in his sweater tightened enough she worried she was going to wear a hole in the knit, but she couldn't help herself.

"Relax for me, love," he crooned to her, his grip on her waist loosening some only so he could pet his thumb across the curve, "Can't move when you've got your legs closed like that, can I? Need to let me take care of you."

(Y/N) hadn't even realized the clench of her thighs had turned into Harry's hand being enclosed between them, no room for him to do anything more than wiggle his fingers and grind his wet palm into her center. With much effort, she managed to unwind her legs, spreading them enough that the hem of her skirt stretched to accommodate the movement.

"Sorry," she breathed against his skin, nuzzling her nose agains the column of his throat.

"'S alright, sweetheart, y'jus' got excited, didn't you?"

Before she could offer any kind of a response (most likely a whiny confirmation, if she was being honest), Harry resumed the strokes of his fingers as if there hadn't been an interruption at all. He took advantage of the new spread of her legs to gain leverage, the thrusts of his fingers growing fast and deep as he pet over her spongy spot. His palm rocked against her clit as he did so, working her from both inside and out as (Y/N) tried to keep a wrap on the bubbling moans that yearned to fall from her lips.

The slick sounds that echoed through their corner was second only to the concentration (Y/N) placed on listening to Harry's breathing. The sound soothed her as the pull of his fingers beckoned her to the edge of her release with each stroke and every smear of his palm over her clit.

A particularly reaching thrust of his fingers allowed him to him spread open her walls, stretching (Y/N) that much further and rattling her insides no matter how hard she tried to keep a lid on herself. Her thighs shook as she strained to keep them from trapping his hand and keeping him from finishing what he started.

"Daddy, I—" Her words were cut off as she lost her breath when Harry pushed his fingers harshly against the soft spot on her walls.

"Are y'close? Is that what y'were gonna tell me, flower?" he asked her, sounding a little too smug to convince (Y/N) he stole her breath on accident.

"Uh-huh, uh-huh," she whined in time with the strokes of his fingers, his palm tight over her budding clit.

Harry hummed at the sound, (Y/N) feeling the rumble of his throat more than she heard it from where she was tucked against his neck. "Cum for me then, sweetheart. Cum for daddy, yeah? 'S your reward for being such a smart, good girl for me today. So patient while I taught you, too."

"F-Faster," she breathed, her hand on his wrist all but numb as she needed that final push before she could fall over the precipice of her pleasure.

Silently, though she could feel the stretch of his smile against her hair, Harry did as requested and thrusted his fingers inside her faster. The pads of his fingers stroked over her insides in brain-rattling passes. One last tap against her g-spot was all it took to shove (Y/N) over the edge and wrap herself in the warmth of the pleasure it seemed only Harry could bring her.

"Daddy," she cried against his neck, the moan thankfully muffled as she had no grasp on her volume in the moment.

Harry coaxed her through her orgasm with the help of his hand on her waist and lips in her hair, his fingers never slowing. Her thighs shook as she came, her walls fluttering and releasing around Harry, her heart beating at an erratic rate she could hear rushing past her ears. Just barely, she could hear him cooing to her, softening the rush of pleasure that wracked her body, through she didn't have any hope of catching any of his words through her ringing ears.

As she came down, (Y/N) slowly regained a normal pace of breathing while her heart settled. Aftershocks tingled through her system, enough so that she had to pull Harry from her center with the help of her grip on his wrist. A slick sound followed as he pulled out of her pussy, her walls clenching around nothing, as if her body thought could handle another round of playing with him.

It was gentle the way Harry reached for her now that his hands were free, grabbing for her waist and pulling her to sit on his lap. She moved pliantly, allowing Harry to take her where ever he wanted with her only contribution coming in the form of her spread legs as he put her on his thighs. She collapsed on his chest with a deep breath, feeling exhausted after the entire day of using her brain only to end with the exertion of her body.

Using his clean hand, Harry cupped her cheek in his palm, cushioning the curve of her jaw as he pulled her to face him. His eyes were still lost in the black of his pupil, but he was decidedly less intense than the last time she chanced a look into his eyes.

"Sweetheart," he cooed to her with a small smile working on his lips, "y'did so good for me, you know that?" Ducking his head, he punctuated his praise with a press of his lips to her cheek. The peck was short and innocent as he trailed his lips over her face, following the planes of her features in affectionate runs. "Y'feel alright?"

"Mhm," she hummed, nodding her head under the garden of kisses he was planting all over her skin, "Tired."

"I know y'are," he smiled, he sound of his laugh sinking into her skin as she kissed over her jaw, "Y'did a lot for me today, I can't blame y'for being sleepy." Using the leverage he had on her cheek, he tipped her head just so as he continued down the length of her neck with his mouth smearing kisses along the way. "You're so smart, love, taking care of everything I asked y'to, then coming so hard for me and staying quiet just like I told you. Can't blame y'for being so tired now."

A tender smile molded her features as she soaked in his praise, loving the sound of his affection sinking into her pores and joining her bloodstream.

"Love you," she murmured to him, voice a weighted whisper as she fluttered her eyes open.

Harry abandoned his path down her neck only to press his lips squarely over her own smiling ones. "I love you too, flower. So much, you know that?"

Reaching up, (Y/N) threaded her fingers through the baby hairs that bordered the nape of Harry's neck as she reciprocated his kiss as best she could with her clumsy mouth. "Thank you for helping me. I don't think I would have been able to finish without you."

She should have known what he was thinking the second those dimples popped into his cheeks.

"Your orgasm or the formula?"

A peal of exhausted laughter fell from her lips she puled away, her hand on his chest pushing at him in punishment for his stupid joke. Her tummy couldn't take a round of his humor after everything that'd just happened. "You're so annoying sometimes."

Harry was quick to wrap her up in his arms again, forearms acting as a cradle around the small of her back before she could get too far away from him. "But I thought y'loved me?" he played along as he pressed his lips to her temple, "Why are y'being so mean to me all of the sudden?

"I'm not being mean, I'm sorry," she laughed, feeling a little too dreamy and in the clouds to entertain that teasing game as she looped her arms around his neck as she melted in his hold. "I do love you, I promise."

"That's what I thought," he mumbled to her, holding her as she settled against his chest.

She relaxed as she sat in his lap, basking in the kisses he dotted across her skin and the feel of his tender hold on her body, all the while shielded by full book shelves in their cozy corner of the library. Harry praised her over and over, feeding into the part of her that craved that validation from him in these sensitive moments. Her own fingers threaded through his hair, reminding herself that he was there, he was real and as much as he got to touch her, he was hers to love on too. It was only when Harry ensured she was back on earth with him—erratic breathing and muddled brain left in the clouds—that he dared to start unraveling himself from around her.

It was a slow process as he offered her his hand to help her steady on her wobbly legs, gentle hands adjusting her skirt to cover her thighs. "Feeling alright, flower?" he murmured to her as he gazed up through his lashes.

It was the dreamy yeah that fell from her lips that earned her a press of his kiss against her tummy, just above the waist of her skirt with the tip of his nose nudging her belly button. He stayed close to her as they packed up, his shoulder nudging hers as he grabbed for his highlighters, hip bumping into her form when he reached across the table for a notebook of his lecture notes. Every time she looked over to him, finding Harry was a lopsided grin on his face, dimple deep in his cheeks and eyes bright.

After packing up their things, (Y/N)'s bag slung over his shoulder, Harry reached his hand out for her to take as he escorted her through the library. (The walk was a lot more successful than (Y/N) had anticipated if she was being honest, her shaky legs even making it down the stairs with only a single short stumble and smirk on Harry's face). Tossing a wave over his shoulder, he said bye to the librarian manning the front desk before he tugged (Y/N) along to the campus outside the front doors.

"How long were y'staying with me tonight? Only for dinner or were y'statin the night?" he asked her, leading her to the lot he had his car parked.

(Y/N) gave an absent shrug, "I don't know. I could stay the night, if it's alright if I borrow some of your clothes to sleep in."

A satisfied smile worked his way over Harry's features as (Y/N) peeked up at him as they walked, the knit of his jumper falling over their joined hands. "That's what I was hoping you'd say."

"Yeah?" she asked, a smile appearing curling her lips as she gazed as him through the waning light of the sunset. How cute was he?

Harry hummed, opening the passenger door of his car open for her once they made it. He emulated the shrug she gave him as he dropped their things to sit on the floor by her feet. "Mhm. I wanted to make sure I didn't have a time limit with y'tonight."

"What do you mean?" A cinch appeared in (Y/N)'s brow as she buckled herself in.

An innocent smile graced Harry's features, toothy and dimpled as he looked up at her from where he tucked the strap of his book bag under her seat. "Now I know I can fuck you all night. That's all."

That boyish smile he gave her didn't match his words as he nonchalantly closed the door behind him after he spoke. (Y/N) watched as he rounded the front of his car with a gape in her lips.

That was her Harry in his cozy jumper and glasses, but one glance down to the waist of his pants and the bulge that tented the fabric reminded her of just who he was in private.

—————

ahhhhhh first gravity blurb how exciting!!!!!!! thank you so much for reading and sorry for any mistakes!! if yu have any ideas or requests of your own please send them in!

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lieslab · 1 month

Text

Straight shooter

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Hyunjin X gn reader

Summary: Hyunjin finds you in your office and begs you to help him take down a new enemy and some of his guys.

Genre: Mafia AU

Word Count: 3.7K

Mature audience warning for mentions of: mania and recklessness, violence, suicide bomber, guns, grenades, blood, brief torture scene, cheating significant other, and causal smart-assery.

_ _ _

To experience mania was the closest thing to becoming a walking god. You felt every thump of your heartbeat in your chest with a dazed look in your eyes. The mountain of euphoria you were sitting on was unshakeable. The nine-hundred milligrams of caffeine pulsing through your veins wasn’t helping your restlessness.

Your heart was thudding fast enough that it could burst at any moment. You should have been concerned, but you didn’t care when you were like this. You didn’t care about anything in this state. How could you? You were untouchable.

You could swan dive off a building and come out fine. Your confidence had sky-rocketed and so had your ignorance. The mania was blocking your rationality. The caffeine helped to alter your wired perception of the world.

Another day in your office had come and gone. Office worker by day and gang leader by night. Nobody ever suspected someone as sweet as you. Sweet as sugar, but lethal as a deadly poison deep down. Everyone had sides of themselves they hid and you were no different.

Your feet tapped together on your desk. You laughed at the sound and stretched your feet forward. The blood rushing through your veins was electrified. What would you do tonight? What chaos would you create?

Leaning back into your leather chair, you took another sip of the sickly sweet energy drink when your office door burst open. Hwang Hyunjin collapsed the moment the door opened. His chest heaved and he patted at the ground with his hands stretching towards you.

“How the fuck did you get in?” You asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Please!” He got out breathlessly. “You’ve gotta help me! He’s killing-” He sucked in a deep breath. “He’s killing all my men! His guys are slaughtering mine!”

You stared at him unamused and took another loud sip of your drink. He brushed a forearm over the sweat soaking his forehead. Dressed in black cargo jeans and a skin tight matching nylon long sleeve shirt, he was a wreck.

Dried blood stuck to his busted bottom lip. A purple bruise highlighted the left side of his cheekbone. His hair was slicked back with a sticky layer of sweat. You took in his defeated stance and sighed.

“Please, I’ll do anything! Just please help me stop them. You know that Dong-Seo is a threat to both of us. I’ll do anything, please!” He collapsed his hands together and bowed.

You took pity on him. Dong-Seo came from another city to Seoul. You were the leader of your gang and Hyunjin was the leader of his. The two of you worked together occasionally, but never when it came to taking another group down.

You never liked sticking your nose in other people’s business, but Hyunjin had a point. Ever since Dong-Seo showed up, your missions kept getting interrupted by unannounced visitors. You lost a few of your own men to Dong-Seo.

He was a vicious middle aged man who didn’t play by the rules. Respect was earned in Seoul, but Dong-Seo took and took and took. He played dirty and he’d do anything to grow his gang and take over. Even if that meant ambushing one of your most prized men and sending them back to your headquarters with a suicide bomb.

You were lucky enough that you skipped the early morning meeting due to being home sick with the flu. Your assistant and thirteen other men weren’t nearly as lucky. You couldn’t lie, it pissed you off. Recruiting new members wasn’t something you took lightly.

Once you joined your crew, in your eyes, it was for life. There was no way out. You’d die for your people and you only picked the ones who’d died for you. The gang was family and family meant everything.

You chugged the last few sips of the third energy drink before you slammed the can down on your desk and sat up. You pushed yourself away from the wooden desk and spun around. Cracking your fingers, you approached a cabinet behind your desk.

“This is your lucky day, Hwang.” You threw the cabinet open to reveal multiple loaded guns. Hyunjin’s eyes widened in shock as he pushed himself off the tiled floor.

“What the fu-”

“Do you prefer the big guys or hand pistols? I’ve got it all. I’ve even got some of these!” You cheerfully exclaimed as you picked up a grenade and shook it around.

“What the hell? Do those work? What’s wrong with you? Are you crazy?”

You laughed as you pushed them to the side and grabbed a preloaded AK-47. You hummed and put the strap over your body. Hyunjin blinked in shock before he shook his head. “I want one of the hand pistols, please.”

“Aw, that’s no fun.” Despite your disapproval, you handed him one of the pistols. He made sure it was loaded and, in the meantime, you snuck over to your desk and filled your pockets with something.

Hyunjin remained unaware until he spun around with his gun. “Are you ready to go?”

“You’re not even going to ask for extra ammo?”

He stared down at the gun with an annoyed look. You chuckled, went back to your cupboard, and pulled out a box of bullets. Without a word, you shoved them into his hand and headed towards the entrance of your building. Hyunjin let out a sigh and tucked his gun into the waistband of his jeans before he followed you.

Twenty minutes later, you were staring at an abandoned building. You let out a soft huff and it moved a piece of your bangs up before it fell back down. You rolled your eyes and glanced over to find Hyunjin staring at the building with a clenched jaw.

“The stupid bastard is seriously hiding out in this building?”

“I wish I was kidding.”

“Why not just blow up the building?” You asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Now what’s the fun in that? I’ll never know if he truly dies that way. He deserves a fate worse than death. If he escapes, he’ll go into hiding and then who knows what’ll happen.”

As you stared up at the building, a flutter of excitement danced in your stomach. “Alright, what are we waiting for? Let’s go!” You practically skipped towards the door.

“Why are you excited? You know we could die, right?” Hyunjin studied you trying to read you. You usually weren’t this carefree and were pretty serious about your stuff. He often thought you were nearly emotionless which was much different than your persona now.

“I’d like to see them try to kill me.”

“Are you dumb?”

You giggled in response and threw open the door to the building. Hyunjin hissed curses behind you warning you to be careful, but you ignored him. With your head held high and your spine straightened, you beamed. “Honey, I’m home!” You called out.

A loud shot went off near your head. Hyunjin dived on top of you and took you down to the cement floor before another shot fired. He shoved you behind the cover of a ceiling pillar. You didn’t feel the dull throbbing from the hit.

“Are you fucking stupid? Are you trying to die?” His eyebrows furrowed in anger. All you could do was grin in response.

The building was three stories high. If you could get up all three stories, you were sure you’d find your target somewhere on the third floor. You didn’t have a plan for this. You were just winging it entirely unhinged and irrationally.

“Listen to me,” Hyunjin grabbed your chin and tugged it towards him. “Take this seriously, for the love of god! Why are you looking at me like that? Are you on drugs? Your pupils are dilated.”

You laughed.

He scowled, “hey! This isn’t funny! Are you under the influence of drugs? Is that what you do after work? Do you think this is a joke?”

“You two, come out with your hands up!” A deep male voice yelled across the way. “Come out with your hands up before I kill you!”

“Make us!” You shot back.

Hyunjin slammed a hand over your mouth with a glare. You bit down on his hand which caused him to shriek and retract his hand. His eyes widened as he looked at the teeth marks imprinted in his skin.

You used the distraction as enough time to move. You rounded the pillar, pointed your gun, and shot. A scream followed shortly afterwards. You pulled the trigger again and the man across the way shrieked louder.

Hyunjin rolled his eyes, but ultimately leaned around the other side of the pillar and took a shot at the man. His bullet went directly between the man’s eyes. The man’s own pistol clattered onto the floor as he collapsed to his knees.

“Boo-yah!” You cried out. “Take that you fucker!”

“What the hell is wrong with you? Seriously? I’m starting to regret asking you to come do this with me. Why aren’t you taking this seriously?”

“Untwist your dick, Hwang.” You shoved yourself up and began to walk through the empty ruins of the building. The place seemed to be some sort of abandoned factory.

Multiple old rusting machines were everywhere. A long conveyor built sat over to the side. A layer of dust was coated along the windows and some of them were cracked. No wonder Dong-Seo picked this place, it was the perfect place to take cover.

The old machinery added layers of protection where men could hide. The halls had multiple doors in them. Who knew what was hiding in the labyrinth of grime besides the fresh layer of brains that Hyunjin just added to the place.

“You know,” you started as you walked over to the dead guy, “this place did need some added color.” Hyunjin looked unamused as you innocently pointed towards the bloody ceiling. “If you squint, it kinda looks like stars.”

“What kind of stars are red?”

“Dead ones.”

“Aren’t stars already dead or something?”

“You’re asking the wrong person, I’m not an astronomer. Space scares me and so do aliens. I’ll stay here on Earth until I die.”

“You’re scared of space and aliens, but not of unhinged lethal men with guns hiding in this building?”

“Life is about picking and choosing your demons.”

Hyunjin opened his mouth and then closed it. Arguing with you was pointless. He shook his head and went back to roaming with you down the hall. The two of you took your time checking behind each door.

To both of your surprises, most of the rooms were filled with empty dusty desks. There weren’t signs that anyone had even been in the rooms. There was even a layer of dust on the floor. Walls were stained a rust color beneath windows, where rainwater had dripped in and dried over time, creating water damage.

When you got to the stairs, the two of you crept up silently. Hyunjin took up the front while you led the rear. You moved sideways keeping an eye behind you with your gun aimed.

Your ears rang from the gunshots downstairs. Surely, people upstairs had been alarmed when the guns began to fire. Both you and Hyunjin were tense from what was about to come. You could practically feel the chaos that was about to occur.

The moment Hyunjin began to round a corner, you held your breath and for good reason too. A gun instantly fired and Hyunjin shoved himself back and knocked into you. You barely caught your footing before you fell down the steel stairs.

With a clenched jaw, you jerked Hyunjin backwards and took over the lead. You peeked around the corner and ducked to avoid gunshots. With a brain full of stupidity and a heart full of honor, you stepped into the middle of the hall where three men with guns were pointing at you.

They were dressed in black business suits. They held their fire which was a mistake. Maybe it was because you looked so strange in the abandoned building with your bright pink business casual blazer and black dress pants. You weren’t sure, but it didn’t stop you.

You brought up your gun and began to fire rapidly. You screeched like an eagle as you unloaded several rounds. The gun recoiled in your hands, but you kept it clutched tightly. The large bullets entered the men’s bodies like butter.

Bullet fragments flowered, arteries shredded, and skin tore. So caught off guard, there was no time for them to shoot back. You sprayed a line of bullets randomly aiming for the trunk of their bodies.

Sticky warm blood splattered out in every direction. It glistened on the walls and dripped from the ceiling. Two men went down, but a third stayed up. With gritted teeth, he took a step forward. His fingers clenched around the gun in his hand. You tipped your gun up and that’s all it took. One moment his head was there and the next, it was gone.

The shape of his skull blew apart from the few bullets you sent his way. Human bones were no match from the force and velocity of the automatic weapon. Behind you, Hyunjin watched with round eyes.

Bits of glutinous brain stuck to your face which caused Hyunjin’s stomach to churn. He gagged when you wiped off your face with the arm of your blazer. All it did was smear bits of body and blood across your face.

You let your gun hang by the strap, removed your blazer, and wiped away the gunk. Streaks of blood remained, but it was a lot better than feeling the bits of flesh left behind. You dropped the blazer and grabbed your gun again.

You were left in your white tank top tucked into your dress pants. “What a rush,” you mumbled beneath your breath. You grabbed a box of bullets from your pocket and began to reload the gun.

“Again, what the fuck is up with you?” Hyunjin crossed his arms over his chest. “Seriously, we’re not going further until you tell me.”

“What? I don’t see what the big deal is.”

“You don’t see what the big deal is?” His voice raised. He uncrossed his arms and gestured towards the three dead men. Multiple puddles of blood were swarming into a giant lake in the middle of the floor. “What the fuck is that?”

“Corpses,” you shrugged.

“No shit, sherlock!”

“You asked.”

“I mean what is wrong with you? You’re acting like you’ve been possessed or something. You’re irrational and acting like a goddamn idiot! You won’t even lis- oh.” He paused taking you in.

After you finished reloading your gun, you were swinging yourself back and forth on the balls of your feet. He raised an eyebrow and studied you up and down. “If you’re not on drugs, then yo-”

“Must be having a manic episode. Big whoop. Move it bucko, we got bitches to kill.”

“I really couldn’t have picked a better time to beg for your help, could I? Oh no, I just had to beg you when you’re not in your right state of mind. We should leave. You’re not taking this seriously, you could get killed.”

“So?”

He ran a hand through his messy hair with flared nostrils. “Do you understand what I’m saying? You die and-” He made a sharp noise as he swung his hand over his neck. “No more, lights out.”

“And?” You tilted your head and blinked confused. “That’s always a risk. I’m not stupid.”

“Your actions beg to differ,” he mumbled.

“You’re talking to someone with a loaded AK-47. I’d watch your attitude, Mr. Hwang.” You shifted and hung the gun back on your shoulder before you began to hum and skip down the hallway.

Hyunjin rolled his eyes, but there wasn’t much he could do to stop you. Once you made up your mind, nothing would change it. Both of your steps echoed eerily in the empty hall. You paused after a while and stuck your hand into another pocket.

Pulling out a handful of white dots, you threw them. They flew through the air before they landed near the end of the hall. Hyunjin jumped as multiple loud pops filled the air. The smell of sulfur quickly came afterwards.

“What the fuck was that?”

“Pop-its. You know, the little white things that explode when they hit the ground. Do you want some? I have more?”

“When did you…why do you…I-”

“I grabbed them before I left my office. I figured they could work as a scare tactic. They might fool people into believing there’s more than two gunmen.” You continued ahead, walked through the wrappers, and went to the second set of stairs.

Hyunjin kept an eye on the area around the two of you before he grabbed the back of your tank top and jerked you back. You yelped as you fell into his sturdy chest. “Easy,” he whispered as he kept you steady. “You nearly walked into a booby trap.”

You blinked and sure enough there was a thin brown string, about waist high, that you hadn’t seen. You sucked in a deep breath and relaxed a little. “Thanks for that.”

“Don’t mention it, just duck beneath it.”

Doing as you were told, you ducked and slid beneath. Hyunjin followed and the two of you made sure to avoid the other hidden traps. Your heart fluttered a little faster when you realized there was a hand on the small of your back.

It was the one thing you never liked to think about too much. The way Hwang Hyunjin made your heart turn to ooze and the way he made you melt. The fierce determination in his eyes when he set his mind to something. The curve of his jaw and the darkness in his eyes.

They say demons play well with others and you had a handful of your own. You always assumed that you’d never date anyone in your line of work, but Hyunjin made you rethink that. He knew the dangers and everything that could happen in this career field.

It was something you pushed far off to the side until you fell back into his chest. You couldn’t afford to be blinded by love now. Your heart was still beating rapidly and your fingers occasionally shook. You clutched the gun tighter and continued up the stairs.

“What’s the plan?” You asked.

“The plan is us killing Dong-Seo. If you’d be so kind, I’d like to kill him myself. I know what he did to your group, but he went to mine and meddled around first. He hurt the families of some of my men.”

“Are you serious?”

“You didn’t hear?”

You shook your head.

“A handful of my top men, his own men ambushed them in their homes. He tied up their families and then disposed of my men in front of them before leaving. Too many families are now traumatized thanks to that bastard.”

“What a cunt.”

“You could say that agai- hey!”

An arm jerked out and grabbed the front of your tank top. Off balance, you were jerked forward by a stranger. Another hand reached for your gun. Hyunjin fired and hit a hand. Someone shrieked as their tendons tore.

Your head clashed with someone else’s. Ignoring the throbbing pain, you sent a shoe into someone’s pudgy stomach with a grunt. Another hand reached for you, you ducked. Hyunjin’s gun went off again and someone yelled.

Hitting the ground, you shoved yourself to the side and grabbed your gun. When a man entered your view, you aimed and fired. Squeezing your eyes shut, more blood and brains rained down from above.

A metallic taste filled your mouth and you choked. More gun fire was exchanged as you screamed Hyunjin’s name suddenly terrified something happened to him. He called back from behind you.

You turned your gun to the side, moved your head, and shot. The bullet pierced someone’s leg and they screamed as they collapsed. A bullet whizzed past the bridge of your nose. So close, you could feel the warmth of the bullet.

That’s all it took for you to snap. You pushed the trigger down and swung the barrel around. Bullets went in every direction again. Men fell like flies. Through gritted teeth, you kept going.

Hyunjin briefly glanced down to make sure you were alright before he fired at the men further back. A large group of them were stashed here. Dong-Seo was in the area and there was no doubt about it.

His shots were nearly perfect. Blood splattered. Bullet and bone fragments mixed together. Screams and yells came from both parties. Hyunjin was only safe from the bullets because he was wrapped around the side of a wall. You were on the ground, but your gun held the impending doom back and placed a wrench in everyone’s plans.

You propped the gun against your chest with one hand and reached down with another. The gun rattled against your ribs as you kept firing. Unsupported, your aim was a little off, but it did its job nonetheless.

With your other hand, you reached into your pocket and pulled out another object you grabbed when Hyunjin’s back was turned. Pulling the pin with your teeth, you tossed it towards the men.

Screams of terror and fear flooded the area at once. Men took off scattering. You used the distraction to prop yourself and aim properly. Hyunjin seemed hesitant behind you. The olive green grenade in the middle of the hall was blatantly obvious, but you kept shooting, and so did he.

When the last man dropped, you spat out a mouthful of blood that had entered your mouth. Hyunjin’s eyes never left the grenade. “We need to take cover.”

“Why?”

“You threw a grenade and it hasn’t gone off yet!”

“Ah, yeah, that’s because it’s a decoy. It’s not a real grenade. Why would I throw a real grenade in a building that looks like a single blow from a person can knock it down?”

“Wait, what?”

“It’s fake.”

“Why do you have a fake grenade?”

“For the sake of creating mass chaos and carnage. I don’t know why you're complaining. I neutralized the threat and you’re welcome, by the way.”

“You should be thanking me!”

You ignored the excessive blabbering and kept walking with your gun ready to fire. Bloody footprints were left behind as the two of you made your way between bodies. Your nose scrunched up at the chunk of flesh blown from someone’s back.

“Now if I were Dong-Seo, where would I hide?”

“Far away from this mess,” Hyunjin finished your out loud pondering. “I can’t believe he picked here to hide. He’s really not the brightest crayon in the box.”

“His henchmen do everything for him and you already know that. Arrogance and stupidity will only get you so far in this life.” You stepped over more bodies until your foot caught on a limp arm.

“Woah, easy!” Hyunjin wrapped an arm around your waist and tugged you back. “You’re one to talk about stupidity. It’s all you’ve been projecting since we got here.”

“You wanted my help, so deal with it.”

He shook his head and followed you. The two of you trailed through the blood and left more prints everywhere. Hyunjin gestured for you to stay on one side of the hall and he went to the other. The two of you went back to searching through the rooms.

Up here, the rooms were clean. This must have been the floor that everyone was using for a temporary makeshift headquarters. How in the world Hyunjin tracked this information down, you didn’t know. He had his ways to do things and you had yours.

After taking out another handful of guys with headshots, the two of you met back up at the end of the hallway. You glanced around making sure the coast was clear. A frown fell over your features and your eyebrows scrunched up. “I don’t think he’s he-”

“The roof. Of course, the bastard fled when things got too out of his control. There has to be an emergency exit to the roof somewhere.”

The two of you searched the area trying to ignore the sharp scent of iron floating down the hallway. The scent of blood was something you’d never get used to no matter how many people you killed.

Blood even dried on your face now. The coagulated liquid created a disgusting gummy feeling. There wasn’t much you could do until you got out of here. Remnants of it still lingered on your tongue from when you took off a man’s head and received a mouthful of it from the bloody explosion.

Hyunjin entered a room with a desk and a desktop computer. He walked past them and went out onto the balcony outside the room. He turned around and sure enough, he found a ladder leading up to the roof. A distant voice could be heard from up above. He smirked before he slipped back inside the room.

When he approached you, he lowered his voice. “I found him. Just keep quiet, so we don’t alarm hi-”

“Hey, fucker!” You cried out approaching the balcony ladder. You grabbed the metal rungs, lifted a foot, and began to haul yourself up it. “Prepare to greet the devil.”

Distant curses filled the air before a gun fired towards the ladder. Luckily for you, the side of the building kept you concealed. You rushed faster up the rungs desperate to get to him first.

“Wait up!” Hyunjin called as he followed you.

You took out another handful of the pop-its and went silent. Dong-Seo stood with his gun erect out in front of him. Not hearing anything, he started to cautiously approach the edge of the building.

One of your hands clutched the metal rung of the ladder harder. You waited until the footsteps got closer before you threw the handful. Multiple loud pops filled the air and Dong-Seo screeched.

Your head and your gun popped over the edge of the brick building. You aimed for his legs and fired. A guttural howl of pain filled the air. You hurried up and Hyunjin rushed after you. Dong-Seo had dropped his gun the moment your bullet shattered his knee cap.

“You fucking bitch! You ruined my fucking knee! I’ll fucking kill you!”

“Try it!” Hyunjin growled. “Kill them and it’s the last fucking thing you’ll ever do.” He shot off a warning shot. It zipped past Dong-Seo’s ear and nicked it in the process.

His teeth clenched in anger. He reached over for his gun, but you put a stop to it by firing off another round into his other knee. He dropped back onto his back rolling in pain.

In a fit of fury, Hyunjin raised his gun to finish him off, but you stopped him by grabbing the edge of his gun and pushing it down. He shot you a glare before he jerked the gun away. “I said I wanted to be the one to kill him.”

“And you will be, but let me have some fun first.”

“Fun?”

“Just watch.”

He didn’t look amused, but he finally nodded in agreement. You walked over to Dong-Seo and kicked his gun towards Hyunjin. His hands were bloody from trying to stop the bleeding in his knees.

You grabbed the edge of his shirt with both hands and tugged him to the edge of the building. His bloody hands left red handprints along your arms as he weakly tried to get you off.

“Let go of me! Get off! You’re hurting me!”

“Boo-fucking-hoo! Maybe you should have thought about that before you came after our guys. Have you ever heard of revenge? Way back when, it used to be an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.”

“The law doesn’t work like that, but I do.” You continued dragging him towards the ledge. Once he was there, you shoved him onto his ass. A blood trail followed behind you and he cried out in pain. “Pull out that cell phone and call your wife.”

“I don’t know what you're talking about!”

“Don’t play stupid! Call your wife or I’ll call her myself. After all, I have her phone number. You think you’re so slick, don’t you? Having your men track us down and coming after us. You forgot that we can do the same exact thing to you.”

His eyes narrowed, “and if I don’t?”

“You’ll be in a world of pain when I shove you backwards off this building. It’s not high enough to kill you if you land right. I’ll let Hyunjin beat you to death. You might be slowly losing blood and you might be in shock, but I’m sure Hyunjin would love to make you feel every snap of a bone.”

“You wouldn’t!” He spat.

“Call your wife!”

With shaking fingers, he finally tugged out his cell phone. Before he dialed, his dark empty eyes met yours. “What am I supposed to say to her?”

“The truth.” He looked confused until you went on. “Tell her that you cheated on her multiple times over the span of the last three months. Don’t try to deny it, I have all the proof I need. You might have killed some of my men, but you were too late. I already have proof of everything.”

Hyunjin’s jaw dropped behind you. He didn’t even know Dong-Seo was married. Who’d marry someone as cold and as ruthless as him?

“Please don’t make me do that,” He begged. “I’ll do anything, just not that. My wife-” He suddenly became choked up. “She doesn’t know about this. She doesn’t know what I do. She doesn’t need to know that I cheated on her. Please, I-”

“You’re not going to hell with your marriage intact. You either tell her willingly or I send every photo of you fucking other women and then push you off this building.’”

He sucked in a deep breath before he dialed his wife’s number. He shut his eyes hoping she wouldn’t pick up. His heart dropped when she did. “Hi, honey! What’s up?”

Dong-Seo’s eyes met yours. You gestured for him to get on with it. When his mouth stayed shut, you unlocked your phone and pulled up a photo of him kissing another woman.

“Honey, I-I have something to tell you. You’re not going to like it, but I’ve been keeping something from you.” He shut his eyes and bowed his head. When he was like this, his buzzed head and his bare arms covered in tattoos didn’t look so intimidating now.

“What is it?” His wife’s voice chirped. She was so upbeat, you could practically hear the smile in her voice.

“Please forgive me,” his voice lowered. “Honey, I’ve been cheating on you.”

“W-What?”

Hyunjin slammed a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing. Dong-Seo looked like he was about to cry. “I’m sorry,” he got out. “I-It’s true. I-I just-”

“We’ve been married for five years and you cheated on me?!?”

“Honey, I’m sorry, I-”

“Fuck you!”

He jerked his phone away as his wife started to scream at him. You watched with amusement as you pulled out your phone and began sending photos and videos of the affairs to her number. There was a ding in the background of her yelling and then silence.

“You cheated on me with my best friend?!” She roared in anger.

“I-I- huh?”

“There’s a photo of you fucking my best friend! You fucking lying and cheating asshole! We’re done!”

He looked utterly lost and defeated. The blood was starting to coagulate in his knees. His wife was the only person he had and you ruined it. He might have been able to reach other men of his, but you destroyed the one thing he held near and dear to his heart.

You let out a loud and breathy moan in a high-pitched voice. You made sure to call out his name and make kissing noises. Hyunjin couldn’t help it, he burst into a fit of laughter. Dong-Seo looked panicked as his wife’s yelling grew louder.

The obscenities grew more intense. When you finally had enough, you reached over, grabbed his phone, hung it up, and dropped it to the ground. You sent a bullet flying into it.

Dong-Seo stayed quiet on the ledge of the building. His face had gone pale from blood loss. You knew you didn’t have much time before he collapsed. Your eyes went to Hyunjin. “Well, that was fun, but now it’s your turn.”

Without a word, he reached up and fired off a single shot. The bullet entered Dong-Seo’s forehead and scrambled his brain instantly. His body went limp and down, down, down he fell. His body hit the ground with a loud thud down below.

Your face scrunched up at the sound. “Oof,” you muttered, “that had to hurt. I thought you were going to do something a little more extreme than that.”

“Not like he felt it, he’s dead. I was going to, but I think you already did that for me. Two shattered knees and his marriage unraveled. That was crazy. How did you even figure out he was married?”

“You totally should have pushed him off first and then killed him. I have my ways to learn things. I was keeping it hidden and figuring I could use it against him somehow. Finding out he was cheating was just an added bonus. I feel awful for his wife, but then again, I don’t.”

“A little too late for that.”

“Do you think he’s really dead?” You asked.

“Are you doubting m-”

Before he could finish, you lifted up your gun and let a spray of bullets fly again. The man’s body jolted and jerked as gaping holes blew apart flesh. When you finished, Dong-Seo’s corpse had been mutilated beyond recognition.

Hyunjin blinked in shock and shook his head. “There is something seriously wrong with you, I swear.”

“I almost really kissed him, but then I remembered he probably has cooties.”

“Ew!” Hyunjin cried. He gagged just thinking about you putting your lips on the middle aged man’s. Dong-Seo had aged like milk rather than a fine wine.

“I realized there was only one person I wanted my lips on.”

“Oh, yeah? Whose lips would that be?”

“Yours.”

He blinked, not sure if he heard you correctly. He opened his mouth, but you cut him off. Your soft lips met his. He hesitated for a moment before he grabbed your hips and tugged you closer. The two of you were both speckled with blood.

After a few moments, you pulled away. The cut on his lip had reopened and was bleeding again. You jerked a thumb over your lip to wipe off the fresh blood. Hyunjin’s cheeks were bright red and he looked dazed.

“Have you ever played with fire?”

“Huh?”

You pulled out the last few pop-its you had hiding in your pocket. “Ever screwed around with fire? Do you have a taste for arson?”

“I can’t say that I’ve ever tried it.” His head spun from how you acted like nothing was wrong. You acted like the two of you hadn’t been passionately making out a few moments ago.

“Let’s see if we can outrun fire, shall we?”

“What are you planning to do?”

You looped your hand through his and pulled him back to the ladder. The two of you went back to the balcony and stepped back inside the room. Out in the hallway, the sharp metallic scent of blood still lingered. You threw the handful of pop-its over the corpses of Dong-Seo’s men.

Hyunjin raised an eyebrow, but he stayed quiet. With curious eyes, he let you pull him through the maze of bodies. You fumbled for a lighter and jerked it free of the fabric of your pocket. “Ready to run?”

“I guess so. Are the pop-its flammable or something?”

“I don’t know, but even if they’re not, the corpses are.”

He laughed and gently squeezed your hand. You flicked the black lighter and held it down to a dead man’s suit. The fabric resisted for a moment until it finally caught fire. You jerked Hyunjin’s hand and pulled him away. “Let’s go!”

The two of you rushed towards the stairs as the fire began to spread across the man. The bright orange flames swallowed up the rest of the fabric and began to ignite skin. Skin began to shrivel and fire crackled as it blackened.

In the stairs, you grabbed one side of the rail and Hyunjin grabbed the other. The two of you still had to go somewhat slow due to the blood on your shoes slowing you down. Your gun bounced along your waist still slung from the shoulder strap. At the last moment, you both ducked beneath the string of the boobytrap.

As the flames spread, smoke began to fan out. The smoky smell of human flesh was unforgettable. Your fingers tightened around Hyunjin’s hand as you laughed. He couldn’t help, but be mesmerized by you.

He assumed the two of you would get to Dong-Seo and kill him, but he never thought the two of you would be soaked in blood and running from a burning building. Your footsteps echoed down the second floor of the empty hall.

The momentum caused your hair to be pulled back. You sucked in a gulp of air and continued running. Your hand was starting to sweat, but you didn’t care. You were still in your manic episode, full of caffeine, and now giddy with love.

As you reached the first floor, nearly at the door, there was suddenly a loud boom. The whole building rattled and a sharp crack filled the air. “Run!” You cried out with wide eyes.

“What the fuck was that?” Hyunjin called after you.

You didn’t respond as you tugged him out the entrance. You pulled him away from the building, through the grass, and towards his car. “We’ve gotta go! Now! The cops are going to be here soon! Someone is definitely calling emergency services after that.”

You let go of Hyunjin’s hand and rushed into the passenger’s side. You removed the strap from your shoulders, turned on the safety, and threw the gun in the backseat. Hyunjin added the safety to his pistol and pushed it towards you.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Yeah, it would have freaked you out.”

“What was that?”

“My defaulted grenade.”

“You said that was a replica!”

“Yeah,” you shrugged, “I might have lied. I knew if I would have told you it was a dud, you would have panicked and freaked out.”

“You nearly got us both killed!”

“But I didn’t, so you’re welcome again.”

Hyunjin started up the car, shifted the gear, and sped off. The car bounced over the gravel path. Sirens began to wail in the distance. Hyunjin shook his head and glanced over at you.

You were in the passenger’s seat glancing back over at the building that was now collapsed. Dong-Seo’s body was covered beneath the wreckage of bricks. Bodies of his men had been crushed and burnt. Shockingly, licks of flames were still creeping over some parts of the wreckage.

“You’re a fucking psychopath, you know that?” He finally got out.

You shrugged, “you must like it though. If I remember right, you did kiss me back. I didn’t force you to do that.”

“Yeah, well, I-” He paused. “You know, I don’t have anything to defend myself with. You’re psychotic and insane. The next time you’re having a manic episode, you should te-”

“And a caffeine boost,” you added, “I’ve had so many energy drinks.”

“Oh, for fucks sake! Next time, tell me, so you don’t nearly get us both killed!”

“I don’t know, I kinda like being like this. Next time, we should blow something up. What do you say?”

“I say I’m taking you to my headquarters and you’re drinking some water and taking a nap before your heart explodes.”

“That’s not fun.”

“I never said it was, but if we’re going to become a thing, you’re going to take care of your health. You need to be in tip-top shape if we’re gonna merge our gangs together.”

“Wait, really?” Your eyes widened. “You wanna do that? You wanna merge groups?”

“Why not? You need more guys and so do I. We already have pledged loyalty and we like each other. Might as well put it to good use.”

“I think I might love you.”

“That’s the mania talking.”

“Nah,” you shook your head, “it’s the way you keep licking your lips and you can’t stop staring at me.”

“Shut up and go to sleep.”

“Make me.”

“You really are a pain in my ass.”

“The biggest prolapse around.”

Hyunjin rolled his eyes and you laughed. A loud siren suddenly appeared and a cop car flew by followed by another. They took no interest in your bloody appearances due to the tint on the vehicle’s windows.

Hyunjin watched them speed off in his rearview mirror. Once they were gone, he glanced over and his russet eyes met yours. All the two of you could do was grin at each other and speed off into the distance.

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

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#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids drabbles #skz fanfic #kpop fanfic #hwang hyunjin #stray kids mafia #hyunjin stray kids #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin #stay

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iamthecomet · 1 year

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Hey hi I've been thinking about the ghouls (Rain most likely, and either Dew or Mountain) and sharing a shower just for platonic intimacy and taking care of each other 🥺

Here's everyone's daily dose of extra soft Dew/Rain. Because I love them.

It's become an after-show ritual. Rain refuses to shower at the venues. Citing a myriad of reasons starting with the water smells bad and ending with it makes my skin feel weird. And Dew does the same, only his reasons are more the water pressure sucks and why would I want to shower with all of you? Rain presses himself to Dew as soon as they're back on the bus. He smells like sweat and the venue, rubbery, plasticine in a way that makes Dew's nose twitch. Dew can't be much better. He can feel the film of sweat drying on his body, stiff and sticky. He can smell the cigarette and stale beer scene clinging to his jacket. Rain doesn't seem to care though, he just nuzzles closer, resting his head on Dew's boney shoulder, nuzzling his nose into Dew's hair and neck. "Clingy," Dew whispers as he tips his head to the side to rest his cheek against Rain's temple. Rain only hums in response.

Dew feels his exhaustion in his bones. The adrenaline of the show trickles from his body with every minute that passes. He's spent the last six weeks exhausted, it's nothing new. Touring is not conducive to being rested. He's surviving on too much caffeine and nicotine and a few hours of sleep in whatever lumpy hotel bed he's shoved toward. Dew wishes he was like Swiss, able to fall asleep anywhere. Even now, Swiss is curled up into the side of his seat, his head smushed up against the window, pillowed by the hood of his sweatshirt--asleep, mouth open, drool gathering in the corner. They've only been on the road for five minutes. Instead, Dew has trouble sleeping through the night in his own bed. Never mind hotel beds that are somehow always wrong. Too hard. Too soft. They all feel like they've been crafted out of rocks and feathers. He laces his fingers with Rain, pulls their joined hands onto his thigh, rubbing his calloused thumb over the space between Rain's thumb and forefinger. It's a short drive to the hotel. Dew untangles himself from Rain as soon as the bus stops moving, he shoulders his overnight bag and is the first one off of the bus. It's a sticky, humid, summer night. It makes his skin itch. He leads the way into the hotel and waits, impatiently by the elevator for Copia to get their keys. Copia has a system for how he rooms the ghouls together. Dew imagines that it's the product of some behavioral spreadsheet that Sister crafted up. It doesn't matter. It's rare that they actually follow it, hopping between rooms like musical chairs--treating their floor of the hotel the same way they do the Abbey. Doors open half of the night to the chagrin of any other unlucky hotel guests. Dew is always paired with Aether. Rain's always with Mountain. Swiss gets paired up with Cumulus. Sunshine with Cirrus. Each agent of chaos paired with someone who Sister thinks is supposed to keep them in line. It rarely works. Mountain and Dew trade keycards as soon as Copia hands them out. Rain seals himself back to Dew's side as soon as they get back in the elevator. Dew slides his hand up into the sweat-damp curls on the back of Rain's head. He scratches his nails against his scalp. "You smell," Dew says. "Better than you." Rain counters, digging his nose into the juncture between Dew's neck and shoulder and inhaling sharply. By the time they reach their floor, Dew's holding onto his human glamor with white knuckles. His skin feels too tight, his joints ache. He drops the glamor as soon as the door snicks shut behind them. Sighing bodily as the weight of it lifts off of him. Rain's already making a b-line for the shower, his own glamor fading. Tail uncoiling as he strips his jeans off. Dew follows him, pulling his shirt over his head, trying, and failing, to keep it from catching on his horns. Rain's already in the shower when Dew gets there. Steam filling the comedically small bathroom. Dew strips down the rest of the way and slips into the shower with Rain.

They're lucky they're both small. Mountain and Aether are definitely not going to fit in one of these showers together. As it is, when Dew turns to let the water spray on his back, he rubs up against Rain. Rain's already purring, back pressed against the cool tile, eyes closed as water that isn't quite hot enough for Dew rains down on them. Dew taps the knob up a few notches and Rain hisses at he temperature spike but doesn't complain. His tail curls around Dew's leg, the broad spade of it resting against the side of his knee. "Can I wash your hair?" Rain asks, hands already trailing up Dew's back. Dew nods. The hotel shampoo smells like chemicals. Whatever flowers it's meant to smell like don't actually exist in nature. Dew wrinkles his nose at it, but still groans when Rain sinks his fingers into the hair at the crown of Dew's head. Scratching, rubbing. Dew tips his head back just enough to keep soap from running into his eyes. He closes them. He feels every muscle in his body relax one by one as Rain shuffles him a little to rinse his hair. Rain works conditioner into the ends methodically. Dew doesn't let many people do this--they never get it right. But Rain has mastered the technique, and Dew is all too happy to let him. When it's Rain's turn, he has to crouch a little so Dew can reach. Digging his fingers into Rain's scalp until the water ghoul gasps and sighs and his knees go a little soft. Dew runs his fingers through Rain's curls as he rinses his hair, untangling small knots and rubbing slow circles over the base of his skull until Rain is knocking his hands away. "You're going to put me to sleep if you don't stop." "Good." "You really want to drag me to the bed?" Rain turns his head, raising a dark eyebrow at Dew. Dew shakes his head. "Who said anything about that? If you fall asleep here, you're staying here. I'm not going to complain about having the bed to myself." "Liar," Rain says, shifting them again so he can pull Dew's back flush to his front, pressing his face against Dew's hair. He kisses the side of one of his horns fondly. Dew doesn't argue. There's no point. Rain grabs the bar of soap and smoothes it over Dew's back, pressing his thumbs into Dew's constantly tense shoulder blades as he does. "You'd miss me," Rain presses. "Yeah," Dew agrees, "I would."

#comet writes #ficlet #request #platonic intimacy #Raindrop #Rain Ghoul #Dewdrop Ghoul #Ghost fan fic #ghost fanfiction #the band ghost fanfiction #unedited

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anrieee · 1 year

Text

⇝ profile - fruits basket

✥ y/n - sophomore in college, astronomy major, childhood friends with aether & lumine. you practically got adopted by the twin’s family when your parents died at a young age. inexperienced when it comes to romantic relationship. you’re bad at handling your feelings and it’s easy for you to fall for people who treat you nicely, but simping is as far as you can go bcs you run away when they end up liking you back. which means, you have commitment issues.

✥ lumine - sophomore in college, psychology major, your childhood friend and aether’s twin. your roommate. she’s younger by a minute. she’s aromantic, but somehow has one of the best romantic advice. she really cares abt her twin and friends. knows you so well, that she knows when you’re hiding something. you can’t hide anything from her. she’s the person you share your secret with and vice versa.

✥ ayaka - you met her during your freshman year in high school. sophomore in college, business major, and she’s always busy with council work. she’s a workaholic and even though she’s always busy, she never fails to make time for you guys. the most logical one of the group. a lot of people follow her bcs they think she’s pretty or bcs of her status of being in the kamisato family. she cherishes her friends. her love language is gift giving, so she always spoils you guys.

✥ hu tao - also a sophomore in college, business major, ayaka’s roommate. has lots of connections, so she knows every drama there is. she loves drama and the chaos it ensues. the polar opposite of ayaka, which makes them a great pair; ayaka keeps hu tao in check, but sometimes ayaka is too exhausted to keep her in check. she means no harm tho, she loves her friends. she’s just a lil bit mischievous.

✥ yae miko - a junior in college, english lit major, ei’s gf. she’s the most experienced out of all of you when it comes to love. you met her bcs of scaramouche and ever since then you got along with her more than you did with scara. she’s very playful and likes to tease all of you. she doesn’t like the male population much. she once wrote a fanfic of her and her gf; needless to say you did not live, laugh, love under the circumstances.

✥ venti - a senior in college, double majoring in communications and english literature, caffeine and alcohol addict. it’s a mystery how he’s passing with a double major while also being one of the biggest procrastinator. he’s a social butterfly, he seems to know everyone at campus. that one upperclassman that adopts every freshmans/sophomores he takes a liking to. he’s a goof, but he has his moments when he’s very wise that makes it seem like his soul is that of an old man; sometimes he reminds you of your senior, zhongli, from the philosophy department.

extras:

just a hater — [ masterlist | emos 🖤⛓🥀 + childe | next ]

Synopsis: In which you major in astronomy and scaramouche is the biggest astronomy hater (in your eyes). What happens when someone confesses their feelings for you, and you not knowing how to handle affections, suddenly blurt out that you are already taken. By who? Well, scaramouche of course.

#genshin scaramouche #genshin impact #genshin smau #genshin scara #scaramouche #smau #genshin texts #genshin textfic #genshin fanfic #scaramouche smau #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche fanfic #kunikuzushi #genshin kunikuzushi #jah - just a hater #jah - chapters

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rookthorne · 1 year

Text

𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐌𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡 | 𝐉.𝐁.𝐁

Pairing // Rockstar!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader Word Count // 4.5k Warnings // swearing, pet names, fluff, suggestive lyrics and behaviour, smut (praise kink, implied piv, fingering, oral - m receiving) Author's Note // my first writing project of 2023 and I had an absolute fucking ball with this, thank you @buckyismybicycle for allowing me to join this universe and I can't fucking wait to build this world with you!

« Part 1 | Series Masterlist | Part 3 »

Ecstasy burned through your veins like wildfire, the bass becoming the rhythm of your heart; when his honeyed words shattered your resolve, you could only hold on for the ride.

Chaos. It was chaos. Members of the sound crew hurried back and forth, while the sound of wheels over grates and metal grinded your senses into a frenzy. Another night, another show, and another opportunity to question just how the fuck you landed here.

Against your better judgement, you had followed Bucky to the next state over - the reasoning that you were tired of routine, spontaneity was something you craved, and Bucky supplied it. Maybe all too readily, if you were being honest.

The band had welcomed you like one of their own, embracing you into their fold of misfits and black sheep, and it was natural that you would latch onto Nat’s company more than most. The fiery redhead was fast, sharp, and lethal - no way in hell would you want to find yourself on the business end of her boot heels.

Crew members continued to swarm and congregate around you, flocking to corners of the stage and making last minute adjustments before soundcheck. Tonight’s show would be intense, according to Bucky, at least.

“I know you’re gonna love this set, sweetheart,” Bucky said that morning, conveniently still laid up in bed with you pulled flush to his muscled and tattooed chest, and he wasn’t letting you go. “Jus’ have to make one last change.”

You looked up at him sleepily, blinking the sleep from your eyes and simultaneously praying that the vision before you wasn't a dream. “Why’s that, baby?”

Bucky said nothing, his expression curiously blank while the corner of his lip began to lift in a coy smirk. “Patience, you’ll see.”

The rest of your morning was full of recounting - much to your frustration - the moments Bucky did in fact, make you scream the night before. Each memory that resurfaced was a chip away at your resolve to not jump his Bucky’s bones, instead, you settled for squeezing your thighs as you rested against a dormant speaker.

Deep breath: in for four, out for four, you thought.

“Doll!”

Shit.

You whipped around at the sound of Bucky’s voice. He was standing with Nat and Clint who was shot gunning Monster cans like it was nobody’s business. Scott, the most laidback of the lot, was nowhere to be seen. “C’mere!”

Being the tall, dark, and broody siren he was, you couldn’t resist his call.

“She looks exhausted, Buck,” Nat commented, her blunt appraisal brought heat to the tips of your ears. Damn it, you cursed. “Never mind the fact you were up all fucking night rocking the damn bus.”

Bucky only laughed as you hid your face behind your hands, only slightly resisting the pull of his arm around your shoulders. “Leave her alone, Nat,” Bucky said while he squeezed your arm and used his free hand to shove Nat on the shoulder. “Don’t think I don’t know about you and your victims.”

“Shut the fuck up, Barnes,” Nat groused while turning on her heels and with more grace than you thought possible, flipping Bucky off while simultaneously fiddling with her beloved bass, the slap of her boots echoing amongst the chaos.

“Huh, look at that,” Bucky mused, a ghost of a laugh in his voice. “Off to find another one.”

Clint snorted and flipped the drum sticks in his hands, the fluidity of his movements hypnotising. “How’re you doin’, Clint?” You asked around a yawn and you let Bucky pull you closer, your front now snug against his.

“Yeah, good,” Clint paused while he looked around the stage. “Need more caffeine.”

“You have any more caffeine, brother, you’ll be on a different fuckin’ planet when it’s set time,” Bucky warned, a brow raised.

Clint laughed, a full belly laugh, and saluted. “Ain’t that the point, Buck?”

“Whatever,” Bucky sighed, shaking his head while he watched Clint’s retreating back. “I dunno how he’s still breathin’ with all that shit.”

“It’s a miracle,” you said quietly, and Bucky laughed.

“You ready for tonight, sweetheart?”

“I hope so,” you said, unable to keep the suspicion from your tone. “Sound check is now, isn’t it?” Bucky nodded and looked up to watch the crew working at a much more sedate pace.

“I want you to wait in the bus,” Bucky began and you looked up sharply. “Trust me.” He leant down and captured your lips in a kiss that was too hungry for its own good. Pulling away, Bucky rested his forehead on yours, his heated breath fanning over your lips. “Can you do that for me?”

“Alright.”

Bucky smirked, his eyes flashing with mischief. “Good girl.”

Time flew by with your trepidation mounting, the minutes only served to make you twitch and fidget with excitement - set time was nearing and nearing, approaching faster than a cheetah on cocaine, a comparison that would have made Clint howl with laughter, if he were here.

The band would be doing the final checks before their set by now, and you felt out of place being on the bus that served as your reminder for your unwilling promise. Bucky had asked you to stay put in the bus until he, or someone else, came and got you. You had already decided you wanted to be in the crowd for this one - the possibility of the very rush you felt only the other night was too good to pass up, and if it was to be as intense as Bucky inferred, you were certainly in for a treat.

A sudden series of bangs against the bus door made you jump, your glass almost slipping from your grip.

“Hey!” A voice called, muffled but still loud. “Bucky asked me to come grab you for the show!”

“Coming!” You managed to stifle the disappointment from not having Bucky collect you, you knew he was a busy man. “Hang on.” The door opened wide to reveal a brunette with a bright expression, he was rocking on the balls of his feet and when he looked up to find you in the doorway, it was a wonder you weren’t knocked off your feet by his excitement.

“I’m Peter, by the way,” he introduced himself, offering his hand to help you down the steps. “Bucky said you wanted to be amongst the crowd for tonight's show, so he’s set you up in the VIP section.”

“Awesome,” you said, grinning wide. Peter gestured to the gates and you followed closely behind as he strode towards the gates, his radio chattering non-stop.

The floor was shaking with the bass from Cap Quartet’s final song while Peter hung back with you for the song to finish. You discovered that while he was only young, he had risen the ranks quickly and often travelled with Bucky’s band under the employment of Sharon.

Riley’s voice echoed from centre stage and Peter urged you forward through a gate where he directed you to security.

In a flurry of movements and even more chaos, your middle was finally pressed against the front fence of the VIP section while adrenaline began to pump in earnest through your veins. The music hadn’t even started yet and you were vibrating with excitement. The mystique and unknown nature of the set tonight left you feeling slightly breathless while people of all walks of life flooded the open ground of the pit, pushing and falling over one another to get the prime position at the front.

It was almost time.

The lights dimmed, an inescapable and palpable excitement rolled from the crowd around you, cries and whoops of adrenaline crescendoed into a dull roar. The stage, once lit by bright spotlights, turned dark with shadows; shrouding the devil you knew lurked within them.

“Hello, fuckers,” Bucky said over the mic, and pandemonium reigned.

Spotlights snapped on and Bucky was silhouetted from behind, his arms wide while his guitar hung from his neck; the tattoos on his arms and sides blazed proudly, shown off by the muscle tank he chose to pair with deliciously tight ripped and distressed jeans. By some miracle, he sensed your unabashed stare and met your eye, throwing you a wink before the lights finally centred on him - a beacon for all those who found solidarity in his music.

“How we doin’ tonight?” Bucky yelled into the mic, pacing the stage and looking out amongst the sea of bodies. You watched as a grin grew on his lips at the crowd’s nonsensical scream. “I said,” he repeated smugly, “how are we doin’ tonight!”

Bucky’s booming voice gave way to a laugh as the cries from the audience bolstered his energy, you could tell by the way his fingers twitched over the strings of his guitar. It was near impossible to block out what those very same fingers had you begging for him to do last night.

Desperate to distract yourself, you glanced around at the others. Nat stood tall, her spiked and heeled leather boots shining in the light. Her expression was full of righteous arrogance as she looked out at the audience when she caught your eye, a wide smirk gracing her blood red lips. Scott was jumping up and down on the spot, amped and absolutely unable to control the energy coursing through his veins. At the back of the stage, Clint sat behind the set of drums like it was a throne, flipping and twirling his sticks with caffeinated enthusiasm.

“Tonight is a very special set,” Bucky called to cheers and whoops. His gaze met yours and he smirked, making his way to stand front and centre, right in front of you. “Now let’s fuckin’ hear it.” The crowd went wild as the lights changed, an orange and red glow through the haze of bodies and smoke.

The opening notes of the song rang out from Scott’s guitar before Clint kickstarted the bass, Nat and Bucky following suit with rousing riffs that made your heart quake in your chest.

Well, it's midnight, damn right

We're wound up too tight,

I've got a fist full of whiskey

The bottle just bit me,

Oh, that shit makes me bat shit crazy

We've got no fear, no doubt

All in balls out!

Bucky’s rasp made the song sound just as intense, and you could feel the freedom of just being built up from your toes - he did not lie, intense was an understatement.

We're going off tonight

To kick out every light

Take anything we want

Drink everything in sight

We're going till the world stops turning

While we burn it to the ground tonight,

With every line he sang, Bucky pointed at the crowd, a resounding “HEY!” echoing off the walls and into the night. His smile was priceless.

We're screaming like demons

Swinging from the ceiling,

I got a fist full of fifties

Tequila just hit me,

People around you were jumping on the spot, screaming and shouting along with Bucky’s voice while he bounded around the stage - it was a wonder he stayed on key. To hell with it, you thought, and joined the crowd, jumping up and down without a care in the world while your heart pumped ecstasy through your veins.

Oh, we got no class, no taste

No shirt, and shit faced,

We got it lined up, shot down

Firing back straight crown,

You laughed aloud with the lyrics and Bucky looked down at you amongst the sea of faces, his pupils were blown with adrenaline and his hair had begun to plaster to his forehead with sweat. If you hadn’t been staring avidly you would have missed his subtle glance down your body, nor the predatory glint in his eyes.

If only you knew what was next.

Choruses and solos passed with even more rousing cries from the crowd and you were breathless, almost unable to bear even an ounce more adrenaline.

Someone in the audience threw a literal bra on stage and Bucky caught it one handed, a sly grin cracking his features like a chisel through marble. “Hey, Clint!” Bucky called and you watched as Bucky threw the bra towards the drummer who caught it in a singular second break to hang it off a cymbal. Bucky’s eyes found you in the crowd again and he licked his lips, staring at your heaving chest when the next bridge started.

Bucky’s voice started softer for these few lines, while Nat’s bass line shone through.

Ticking like a time bomb

Drinking till the nights gone,

Well, get your hands off of this glass

Last call my ass,

His voice grew in volume and intensity, the baritone literally hammering your heart in its rhythm. You felt like you were floating, the adrenaline fully consuming you in its waves and drowning you.

Well, no chain, no lock

And this train won't stop,

We got no fear, no doubt

All in balls out!

Bucky held the last note for so long you watched the veins in his neck stand out in relief; the memory of seeing him above you just like that was too much, you felt faint and far too turned on. Get it together!

We're going off tonight

To kick out every light

Take anything we want

Drink everything in sight

We're going till the world stops turning

While we burn it to the ground tonight!

The final notes of the song echoed off the stage where it mingled with shouts and screams, the crowd was amped up and feral in its intensity.

Bucky was literally dripping with sweat as he came to stand right in front of you again, his breathless voice calling into the audience, but you couldn’t hear over the pounding in your ears. The muscle tank he was wearing had rode up in his exuberance, showing just a peek of where you had left your mark on him.

“Holy fuck,” you whispered. The world came into focus again when you took a deep breath.

“This next one is next fuckin’ level, you hellions,” Bucky yelled, snatching a bottle of water from off stage while his guitar swung around. “Are you ready!”

“YES!”

“I didn’t hear you,” Bucky hummed, grinning. “I said, ARE YOU READY!”

The roar from the crowd was unintelligible and deafening, and Bucky looked down to stare at you with a wolfish grin. You suddenly felt the apprehension from earlier return with a vengeance.

What the fuck was he planning?

Scott began the beginning riffs of the mystery song when Bucky and Nat started, then Clint on the kick bass. The percussive sound rattled your bones and you finally realised…

Oh, that smug bastard. You grinned widely and Bucky winked back, when the intro began.

Got to meet the hottie with the million dollar body

They say it's over budget

But you'd pay her just to touch it, come on,

The crowd rushed forward and you shouted along with Bucky, keeping your gaze locked with his face as he moved his fingers like it was second nature, his expression warping from concentration to sly smugness in a flash.

Needs to hit the big screen

And shoot a little love scene

If Hollywood had called her

She'd be gone before ya hollered, come on,

Bucky watched you as he sang into the mic, his foot tapping with the beat while Nat, Scott, and Clint played to perfection. The next verse was fast paced and Bucky kept pace like he was made to.

Dirty little lady with the pretty pink thong

Every sugar daddy hittin’ on her all night long

Doesn't care about the money

She could be with anybody

Ain't it funny how the honey wanted you all along,

The bass increased tenfold, rattling your bones and your heart hammered to keep pace to keep you standing. You couldn’t focus, you could only see the way Bucky was staring at you as he worked the neck of his guitar and sang with such allure it was like he was fucking you from only a few feet away.

You saw in your mind's eye how Bucky loomed over you the night before, driving his hips into you with animalistic ferocity. It was a shock he hadn’t split you in half after he made you come undone over and over again. “Fuckin’ look at you, sweetheart,” Bucky purred, his lips just inches from your pulse point. “Look at how you’re takin’ me.”

You're ripping up the dance floor, honey

You shake your ass around for everyone,

I love the way you dance with anybody

And tease them all by sucking on your thumb,

You're so much cooler

When you never pull it out,

Nat’s voice merged seamlessly with the chants of the crowd, but you could not look away from Bucky’s stare as he held the lead. He had you pinned to the spot with the inferno roiling away in your guts, the coil set to spring.

Cause you look so much cuter

With something in your mouth,

The world froze, a juxtaposition to the hellscape that was your body. Smug bastard, you thought, and taking the invitation to tease, you opened your mouth and flattened your tongue; a striking imitation of how you had taken his cock that morning.

Bucky tensed and his eyes narrowed, but he didn’t falter.

Crafty little lip tricks

Tattoos on her left hip,

She bending as your spending

There's no end to it so baby, come on,

Dressed up like a princess

Bettin' that her skin smells better

Than the scent of every flower in the desert, come on,

Bucky’s voice sounded heavier, the hedonistic image fuelling the fire. You were fucking doomed tonight; you knew that for sure. The chorus gave Bucky a breather, and he took the opportunity to bound back and forth over the stage to absorb the kinetic frenzy of people flocking to his every move.

The next verse was softer and Bucky made sure to stand front and centre once more while his fingers worked effortlessly through the rifts; teasing you mercilessly with unnecessary flicks of his fingers and come hither gestures.

Bastard.

She loves the night scene bar queen

Living for the fun taking over

Every dance floor like she's the only one,

In the spotlight all night dissing everyone

And trying to look so innocent

While sucking on her thumb,

Bucky pointed right at you, his gaze scorching with its intensity and he bent at the hip, miraculously keeping time with the others - even with the start of a sizable tent in his jeans. You looked up at him through your lashes and smirked.

You're so much cooler

When you never pull it out,

So much cuter

With something in your mouth,

You opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out again. Teasing him was too much fun, and you swore he snarled in frustration, wrestling with the animal within him to keep time with the others. The chorus began again and Bucky bounded off and you trailed his every move with keen eyes, his ass perfectly on show; you wanted to grab ahold of it like you did last night, urge him further, faster.

The outro was epic and Bucky stood next to Scott, back-to-back as they played the riffs with precision.

You're so much cooler

When you never pull it out,

Cause you look so much cuter

With something in your-

Clint’s kick bass thundered around the venue and it marked the end. Screams and cheers echoed from the crowd and the lights dimmed low, you could see the band milling about the stage, knocking back bottles of water, or Monster - in Clint’s case.

“Thank you, fuckers, for the killer set!” Bucky boomed, and he was bathed in light by the softer spotlights. He was flushed red with exertion; his hair was plastered to his forehead and neck with sweat and his tattoos glistened. The others looked almost identical - exhausted and thoroughly spent. Bucky’s yell was met with more cheers and whoops, a universal applause for a job well done.

People began to filter out towards the exits and merch stands when Bucky knelt down on stage and gestured to a security guard, and you watched as he pointed towards you. They exchanged a few words, the guard followed Bucky’s finger and nodded curtly. “Ma’am,” he said once he neared. “Barnes wants you backstage.”

You couldn’t scramble over the fence fast enough.

“You guys did amazing!” You gushed, running towards Nat, Scott, and Clint. Bucky was nowhere to be seen. “That was insane!”

They all tiredly said their thanks and downed more drinks and food, when Bucky appeared. “Glad you thought so- oof!”

You collided with Bucky, ignorant of how he stumbled to catch you in your haste; if you didn’t do something to get a release, you would go insane. Bucky placed his bottle down and lifted you from the floor, the plains of muscles in his shoulders, chest, and arms rippling with the effort and it was all you could do not to pass out on the spot.

The kiss you pulled him into was all hunger; teeth and tongue clashing with fervour you’d never felt before, you needed him.

You pulled back just enough to calm the roar of blood in your ears. “Need you, now, please, I can’t-”

“Get a fucking room!” Nat yelled, rolling her eyes.

Bucky glanced over your shoulder and threw Nat a glare before flipping her off. “Plan to!” He called over his shoulder as he turned on his heel and barged into a - blessedly - empty room off the hallway to the stage.

“Fuck, doll,” Bucky gasped when you squirmed, your ass rubbing against the tent at his crotch. “Couldn’t fuckin’ handle your teasin’.”

“I know,” you whispered, smirking as you ran a hand through his hair while he stared at you. His pupils were entirely blown, only a slither of stormy grey visible. “Need you, please,” you whined.

“Dunno if you deserve it, sweetheart,” Bucky growled and you looked up at him in shock. What the fuck? “Teasin’ me the entire set? That’s jus’ cruel.”

Oh, fuck. That should not have turned you on so much. You gulped when you felt your cunt clench around nothing.

“That get you, sweetheart, hmm?” Bucky hummed. He lowered you to the floor so you were standing on your own, remarkably shaky, two feet. “Don’t you lie to me, who am I?”

Desire shrouded any sense of preservation, your inhibitions disappearing like the slick down your thighs. You were so fucking doomed. The mumbled reply you gave didn’t seem to please Bucky because he glared, his figure casting a shadow over you.

“Say that again for me, a lil’ louder.” Bucky’s finger came to rest under your chin and he forced your head up so you’d meet his eyes. “I know you want to.”

“Yes, master,” you whispered, the slight humour of the other night not lost on either of you.

Bucky chuckled darkly. “Good girl.” He crowded you against the wall and pinned you with his knee between your thighs and you moaned weakly at the sudden pressure. “Tell me what you want, sweet thing, c’mon.”

“You, you, I want you, please,” you rushed, trying with all your might not to whimper while he attacked your throat with open-mouthed kisses.

Bucky fumbled with the belt of your pants and you giggled, taking the reprieve to breath your way through the dizziness. Not even a minute later you stood pinned to the wall, your pants bunched at your ankles while Bucky teased your clit with his thumb. The coil was already tightly poised, you were not going to last long at all.

“Please, please, Bucky, need-”

“I know what you need, sweetheart,” Bucky cooed, his eyes watching you intently before he dived back down to mark your neck. He pushed in with two fingers and the sudden pressure made you cry out. “That’s it, easy, be good for me,” Bucky hushed, straightening up to stare down at you and how you were unravelling. “You’re gonna be good for me, aren’t you?”

You nodded feverishly against the onslaught of pleasure, he was tenacious in his exploration and he knew, even in this short of a time, where every single spot was to make you sing.

“I want you to come for me,” Bucky huffed against your lips before he placed a bruising kiss to silence you. “I need you to come, let go,” he punctuated his words with a firm swipe against that spot, his dextrous fingers repeating the motion non-stop until your thighs shook. “Come for me, sweetheart.”

“Oh, god, Buck-”

Your vision whited out with the intensity. Bucky held you and coaxed you through with gentler touches. “That’s it, good girl, such a good girl for me,” he whispered while peppering your face with soft kisses you barely registered.

The waves ebbed and flowed, and you finally looked up dazedly to stare back at him. Bucky smiled softly. “There’s my girl,” he whispered. You couldn’t help but feel a flood of emotion in your blissed out state when Bucky’s painfully hard dick rubbed against your thigh; his breath hitch was quiet enough you would have missed it, if you hadn’t been listening for it in the first place.

“Wan’ your cock, Bucky,” you whined suddenly and Bucky groaned. “Please, need it.”

You lowered yourself to your knees, kissing and biting your way down Bucky’s chiselled chest and stomach, all while his dick twitched with need the closer you got. You made short work of his briefs and reached out to collect the dribble of precum that was in danger of going to waste. “Oh, god,” Bucky moaned as he watched you lick your finger clean. “Fuck.”

Slowly, you began to move your hand up and down his length while he bit back his whimpers. “Wanna hear you, Buck,” you whispered, moving forward to suckle at the tip. The sight above you was distracting, to say the least; the flush covering his neck and chest added a pop of extra colour to his tattoos, his chest heaved for breath and his hands flew everywhere but where you wanted them.

Bucky startled when you grabbed hold of his hand and put it to the back of your head, and with a sultry glance back up to watch what you were about to do to him, you relaxed your jaw and inched forward until your eyes watered. “Oh, fucking hell,” he gasped, the grip on your hair tight.

Staying like that for a moment, you hollowed your cheeks and sucked. “Fuck! Baby, oh-” You would have giggled if his length wasn’t heavy on your tongue.

You pulled back for air but you kept the tip in your mouth, lapping at it with your flattened tongue. “You look so cute, kitten,” Bucky praised, the rasp in his voice lowering the octave while he caressed your cheek. “With my cock in your mouth, god, look at you.”

It would be one of your biggest achievements, making him come as hard and as fast as you did, and for damn sure you would hold it over his head; you were nothing if not competitive, and you couldn’t wait to be pulled down from your pedestal.

And, the next morning, if Bucky’s voice was even more raspy than normal - it was no one’s business.

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