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#thank you for your friendship these past couple of months (bordering on one!! year!!)
guyfieriii · 10 months
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Turn Me To Ashes
This one's an angsty little piece written for this ask. Its a self-indulgent little piece that's got a bit of everything: Price before he was a Captain, some angst, Price on a motorbike, some more angst, and finally that last bit of angst to cap things off nicely.
The biggest thank you to @mvtthewmurdvck who read this thing piecemeal and gave me the support to post it as well as @soapskneebrace and @yeyinde for indulging my crazed Price thoughts.
Pairing: John Price x f!Reader Warnings: PAIN
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You will your eyes to deceive you like they have in the past. At moments most inconvenient they fashion a mirage so cogent you’d think it’s all they’ve ever done. 
And now—
“J—” 
They don’t. 
It’s your heart that betrays you instead. “John.”
There’s an unmistakable flinch in his bearing at the sound of your voice, but he turns around, nevertheless. 
He looks different but also the same. 
There are tufts of grey where there used to be pure chestnut. A weathered face carved of grit, chiseled down by years of bellicose. 
He looks tired, you think.
Or maybe it’s you that brings it out in him. 
Had the years not passed in his absence, you’d have made a dig at him. Something along the lines of ‘People know we’re the same fuckin’ age, John, and you’re makin’ me seem older than I am’. Or maybe ‘At least you committed to the beard — spent a good couple years wondering if y’were gonna grow one’.
Instead, you stand there awkward and silent, imagining a conversation that isn’t really happening.  
He watches you, wistful. Like he’s doing the same.
After a moment, he’s entirely expressionless and you’re not sure whether you’re more disappointed or surprised. Foreseeably the prior, more like. He’s a captain now. SAS. The ever-dependable island of a man surrounded by oceans of unpredictability. 
“We draw the line where we need to.”
“Not we, John. You.”
It’s been over a decade since and the memory of it still blisters. 
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Bluebird. Blue. 
That’s what he called you. You suppose it was fitting. You were protective, bordering on territorial — especially when it came to him. 
“Is that an insult, Price?”
“It’s a compliment, dove.”
It was hard not to be. You came up together, joining the army within months of each other. Through sheer contingency, your paths crossed enough times for bonds to be made and friendships to be forged. Nothing more. 
Nothing either of you would openly concede to. 
It started the night of your birthday, a few years in. A party in the mess hall took a turn and so did the line that stood firm between the two of you. In a flurry of hasty fingers, impassioned moans, and your breath tinged with the burn of scotch, you allowed the levee to break and out poured months of hidden impulses that burst at your seams. Now they flowed freely across your tongue, gliding onto his against the beaten brick wall of the outer barracks. 
“Just this once, hmm?” He promised. 
“Just this once.” You quickly agreed under a high miasma of his lips and molten touch. Writhing and panting beneath him, you’d have committed to any oath at that moment. Part of you knew you didn’t mean it, but you said it anyway. 
You later realized he didn’t much mean it either. 
So, yes — you felt entitled to him in some way. Especially when the paramedics made eyes at him, and the rookies fought reason to have him indulge them in conversation. He’d grant them one, of course. Of course. You’d watch them, coquettish and wide-eyes and it was hard not to wonder if this was what he wanted. 
You, inversely, snapped back. While there was an immense amount of mutual respect and understanding between the two of you, you had to make it noticeable that you weren’t beholden to him. It wasn’t for the benefit of your fellow soldiers or the watchful eyes of your superiors. 
It was for you and him. 
There was the silent yet ever present threat of impermanence. An occupational hazard you had come to terms with, or so you thought. But then the thought of his ephemerality burned a hole in your chest. 
You could die. You had no qualms with that, you had planned for it. You even wrote him a letter. 
You hoped he hadn’t done the same. 
The other women — they were easier, straightforward. You weren’t. You were an exposed live wire of harsh candor and even harsher pain. An irritant holding up a mirror, a challenge with no end. It made sense at times to think that you were better left aside than with him. 
What’s that story about the man pushing a boulder up a hill? 
But then once the sun withdrew from the skies and the stars took its place, he’d only ever go searching for you. 
You brought it up once in a canopy of post-coital bliss. The sound of his heart beating in a steady metronome, his fingers dancing up and down your spine, the way you just lay there in comfortable silence was all too perfect. It made your walls descend and your insecurities awaken. 
So, you asked. “Why me?”
“We match, Blue.” He simply said and you believed him. 
Until you didn’t. 
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He asked you home with him, once. 
He looked just as surprised as you at his invitation, but your hasty ‘Yes, okay. Yes, I’ll come home with you’ didn’t give him a chance to backtrack. 
His answering smile was one you etched into your myocardium. Always hoping for the best and expecting the worst, you knew you might need it. 
You try your best to mimic it and give him something in return. 
You match. 
It was painfully awkward — that first flight back. You sat side by side in an aircraft with other home bound soldiers, chatty and eager. 
Not the two of you, though. 
He slept for most of it, or he pretended to; the lip of his beanie pulled over his eyes, head resting against the window, arms crossed at his chest. His shoulders would shake in sync with the aircraft’s rumble through some mild turbulence, but the man didn’t so much as shuffle out of his REM. 
Not pretend, then. 
You finally let out the breath you weren’t aware you were holding and make the snap decision to use this time to your advantage. There were people around, much to your relief they were entirely unaware. You allowed yourself some indulgences, letting your eyes dance over his sleeping form and zeroing in on all those details you hadn’t had the luxury to appreciate. 
The scar hidden in the five o’clock shadow now forms across his jaw. You remember how he got it — narrowly avoiding some shrapnel a few months back in Astana. All he walked away with was a bit of metal half a centimetre deep. 
Your fingers embarked on an expedition of their own as you absentmindedly traced the back of his hand that peeked through the crest of his elbow. They followed a patterned dance of up and over around each finger, through the valley between each knuckle, and down the risen veins and back. 
Ad nauseam.
You pretended not to notice the irregularity in his breathing, the slight twitch in his lips as you continued on. 
Eventually, his arms uncrossed, and you bit back your disappointment as he hooked a thumb over the flap covering his eyes to meet yours. 
“Glad to be able to entertain ya, Blue”
You wished he’d go back to his feigned sleep, and you’d go back to your little game. 
“It’s not the worst thing I could have done, John.” You kept your voice steady. Lighthearted. There was a hint of embarrassment trickling at the back of your throat, but you wouldn’t dare reveal it. 
“Oh?” He shifted in his seat, leaning towards you. Your eyes quickly veered to gauge your peripherals for any possible interruptions. 
This was a clandestine moment. One you weren’t keen to share. 
He seemed all too unbothered, his eyes downcast glancing upon your hands fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. 
“Simmons— he, uh, wanted to draw a cock across your face. Good thing I stopped him.” 
“How’d you do that?” Without a moment’s pause, he took your hand in his, large palm eclipsing yours entirely as his fingers wove their way through yours. 
“Shot his bollocks off.” 
It was so painfully tender. You’d have captured it in a globe for your mantle if you could. It bled such intimacy for which you felt entirely undeserving. 
You were harsh people. You and John. Forged and brutalized to the point wherein moments like this feel like a vain, almost opulent purchase of your time. Frugality in all matters of heart was an imperative choice to be made. 
Sink or swim. 
Perish or survive. 
And the two of you. Well—
“And you let me sleep through it?” 
He invited you home and you schooled yourself to let it all be about a good time. A bit of R&R and some sex. 
Wasn’t it?
He promised to show you around.
“I’ll show you where I had my first kiss, love.”
“Careful, John. A girl might get jealous.”
A glance into his past made the possibility of a future bloom. 
The bait. It was too enticing. It had too much potential, the thought of you and him. Having a life outside of iron, lead, and dirt. 
You couldn’t just—
You pulled away from him with about a tenth of the delicacy you were hoping for.  His expression shifted five times over in the span of a second. Hurt. Confusion. Anger. Resignation. Apathy. 
“You looked like you needed your solid eight.”
It was better that way. 
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It was a vintage Honda. John’s motorbike. It suited him to a T. 
There is always something to be said for a reliable classic. 
“Wanted this exact model as a lad, but my dad—“
He paused, swallowing down like he’d just tasted something bitter before continuing. 
“Bought it as a beaten down clunker an’ I built it up.” 
He looked at you, a bit self-effaced, in hopes of earning your admiration. 
You couldn’t dare to disappoint him. 
You recognized it as a point of pride within him. To him, it epitomized his freedom. His steadfast nature. To you, it was a death machine with a chassis built around it. But it wasn’t a fear that lingered. 
The moment you were seated pillion, your body molded to the back of his. Every turn along the road, you were counterpoised by him. It was more graceful than you would have imagined. A delicate kind of waltz wherein he led you so intuitively, you felt as though you’ve been his passenger for a lot longer than you have. 
It was the subliminal trust you had in him. What was usually conveyed with a look, if that, was now a tête-à-tête of his parity and your belief. 
He did make good on his promise.
For the time you spent with him, morning rides were routine. You raced daybreak, cruising against asphalt, feeling the thrum of the engine behind the settling in your sternum. The amorous backcloth of the gliding mist at your feet, the ever-present chill of morning air curtaining the warmth of his body. At every stoplight, his hands would stroke the length of your calves, palm tightening around the exposed skin of your ankle. 
The roads lay bare at that early of an hour, your only companions were the even-spaced streetlights along your way. 
“That one there. Right under the hood of it. I was fourteen. Her same was Iris”. He said. 
“Was it a good first kiss?”
“Oh, the best.” 
You mapped it out like the route to a treasure. All this trivia, the stories. You harmonized every likened memory of his with one of your own. 
The fantasy of the path untraveled remained your consolation prize for when your time with him came to an end. 
It was near perfection. 
All good things, however—
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Betrayal is an ugly word, you think, and often misrepresented in its severity. 
What might be a disappointment is deemed as grievous as betrayal just because it’s coupled with heartbreak. 
Death in its unfortunate certainty is commonplace in a world like yours. The fact that it comes before it’s due is a bitter pill you’ve managed to swallow. 
You grieve. You reminisce. You move on to the next. 
But there are some that stick. It’s not the ones you don’t see coming. It’s the ones you do and fail to stop. They are the ones that linger well past the descent of ironed cloth on a closed casket. 
What do you do when reliable foundation crumbles and you’ve lost all footing?  You change. 
John changed. 
Something in the blood of his fallen comrade stained more than skin and cloth.
His perception turned — uprooting philosophies of adherence to something more uncontrolled. 
There were lines he began to cross. Ones he expected you to cross with him. 
John wasn’t a man you made a habit of denying. The very thought of it lit a match of unease within you. He asked and asked, and your resolve nearly collapsed, but you remained planted across the underscore of his reasoning while his hand remained outreached. 
You just didn’t take it. 
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I’m sorry, okay?
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jooyeone · 3 years
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jimin and jungkook taking care of each other ♡ (for @flipthatjacketjiminie) cr. dwellingsouls, koreasass, x
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taechaos · 3 years
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from Textbook Love drabbles
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pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader
genre: drabble(?), smut, college au
synopsis: “She’s too sweet,” Taehyung begins, “too kind, too nice, everything you’re not. You wouldn’t be trying to keep me away from her if you didn’t know that. Are you afraid she’ll like me better?”
warnings: slight angst, arguing, dubcon, mild violence
word count: 4.7k
a/n: ima need yall to submit jk gifs cuz it is taking me TOO long to find a good one 👺 not proofread.
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The weekend is fun: students’ two days of temporary rest and catching up on their assignments. Jungkook doesn’t concern himself with the latter, but he does enjoy waking up later in the day and lying down on the grass with his arms crossed under his head, bathing in the sun without any worries. It’s peaceful, thinking thoughts of you with dimmed eyes while the breeze gently wafts past him.
But of course, Taehyung wouldn’t let him just enjoy his day without a hint of irritation. Good things never last anyway. He’s sitting in the middle of the field, a hot spot for relaxation, and feels the soil under his palms while observing his surroundings. Yoongi is with them, munching on a few snacks while scrolling through his phone as it quietly plays music.
“The girl at the party,” Taehyung begins before glancing at Jungkook through his sunglasses, “she was alone when I came back. You weren’t around either; did you cum too soon or something? I saw you two kiss.”
“I left,” Jungkook mumbles without opening his eyes.
“Why?”
“I was bored.”
“And where did you go?” he pries.
“None of your business.”
Taehyung scoffs at his dismissal before averting his gaze elsewhere. “I do have a guess.”
“Don’t start,” Yoongi warns him without looking up. The two best friends usually get into arguments in a matter of seconds daily, and Yoongi just wants to spend his day without having to break up a fight. Just this once, he hopes… but hope doesn’t save him.
“I’m just wondering if you actually went all the way back to campus to fuck another girl, who coincidentally also does your homework.” His tone is cool and collected, but it borders on mocking that usually goes unnoticed. He’s been around these two too long for them to miss, however. Yoongi sighs, dreading the response already.
Jungkook sits up on his elbows with a glare directed towards Taehyung. “How’s your ex holding up, Tae? You think she cheated on another guy yet?”
Neither of the two friends have a filter around them, no consideration for their words as they apathetically insult one another; but Jungkook can go too far, especially by bringing up old wounds. 
Taehyung was in a toxic relationship with his first girlfriend of two years, which took a huge toll on his mindset. Constant infidelity, endless forgiving, make up sex and catching her with another man after: a cycle that went on for over 24 months. The concept of love became tainted in his eyes, no longer interacting with the opposite gender if not to get laid, and Jungkook’s commensalistic - rather parasitic - relationship doesn’t disprove his hateful ideology. Love only consists of two people: a host who provides, and the parasite that selfishly takes it all. 
But he isn’t over the pain that lasted a year after the break up, which was shamelessly executed by the parasite: his former girlfriend. It took a lot of trust to open up about it to his friends, and it lifted a heavy weight off of his chest. Only this year did he stop thinking about her, until Jungkook asked about her so casually. It stings his heart only for a second, and he scoffs as Yoongi intervenes, “Both of you need to shut the fuck up.”
“If you guys want to talk about my relationships, then don’t get all whiny when I talk about yours.”
Taehyung swallows his pride and confidently answers, “I don’t know, Jungkook. I hear she’s doing well, but no information on her boyfriends. Your turn: what’s going on with that nerd?”
“Elaborate.”
“Are you two dating?” Yoongi asks exhaustedly. They just keep taking every opportunity to annoy each other, and it’s even overwhelming him at this point. 
Rolling his neck side to side in thought, Jungkook takes a moment to answer, “No.”
“Bullshit,” Taehyung spits. “You know what? Let’s just move on. I’m sure I could get proper answers from someone else.”
“If you have a death wish, that is,” he warns with a slight seethe before lying back down.
He doesn’t respond and hides a smirk, a couple having a romantic picnic ahead of him from a distance. He watches them for a few seconds before muttering to himself, “It’s not going to be my death.”
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Yoongi and Jungkook chill on their own after Taehyung leaves. He’s roaming the campus in hopes of finding that one girl who is always wearing some school skirt and working 24/7 to find out what is so special about her. Jungkook might think he doesn’t notice them interacting, but behind that airhead facade, he’s observant. It’s not that big of a fucking secret either, they’re not deliberately hiding their strangely beneficial friendship or whatever. You stick out like a sore thumb in the yard, though there’s not many people to tell you apart from anyway.
He approaches you rather slowly, inspecting your figure first before meeting you. Your posture is straight and composed, fingers quickly typing away on your keyboard without even looking at them. You look so serious to him, a contrast to the radiant butterflies flying past you in such a bright environment. He wonders if you ever procrastinate or take breaks, and most importantly, how someone that appears so smart has fallen into such an obvious trap set by his best friend of all people. 
His hands are in his pockets as he speaks his first words to you. “Hi, I’m Taehyung.”
Your reaction is instant: a quick look at him and you’re already frowning. “I’m Jungkook’s best friend,” he adds in case you’ve seen him around before. 
“I don’t know you.” And with that distant reply, you return to your essay. If meeting Jimin has taught you anything, it’s that you can’t trust anyone who claims to know your lover. They are just using it against you… 
“Well, shit,” he laughs, “I didn’t realize you were so cold.” Your eyes don’t waver from your screen, so he tries another approach: “Are you the girl Jungkook left the party a few days back for?”
Your ears perk up in his direction, but you don’t show it. But he notices the pause in your taps before you continue typing, and he holds that against you. He takes a seat across from you, and your laptop covers your face from him. “I just wanted to meet the person that’s got him whipped enough to get high and run off to them.” You bite down on a smile and prolong your silence. “I guess I’ll talk to you when you’re not busy.” 
He stands up just as you tell him, “Wait, no, I’m not busy.” You close your laptop mid-way before hesitating, but slam it shut nonetheless. “Sorry.”
“You’re good.” He sits back down and clasps his hands on the table. “So what’s going on between you and him? He refuses to tell me, as if you’re his little secret.”
You shyly look down at your flats and twiddle your fingers on your lap. “We’re together… but he is very mysterious.”
It’s a good thing you don’t glance at him to hide your blush, because he’s a little skeptical. He puckers his lips and furrows his brows but controls his expression when you look up. He mentally curses for taking longer than a few seconds to respond; it’s suspicious. “I know right? I don’t know why he’s so reluctant to talk about you. You’re a total sweetheart.”
Approval from Jungkook’s friend: check. Will he like you more if you get along with his friends? The thought excites you, because at least this is someone he likes, unlike Jimin. “Thank you,” you shy a smile. “Um…”
You’re awkward: not Jungkook’s type, Taehyung notes. You’re obviously the host... “So is this a fling, or are you two serious?”
“We’re serious!” you immediately answer. “I love him, and he recently told me he loves me too. He used to kiss me for doing his homework, but now he does it out of nowhere.”
Wow… romantic. He suppresses a chuckle because he doesn’t want to laugh in your face, not when you’re so cute when you talk about him. Your eyes light up with a gleam, a lovesick smile gracing your face and now desperate to befriend him. You look like him when he was supposedly in love. You’re serious about Jungkook, but for how long? Especially when the other side of the relationship is not so committed. It should be mutual: with two hosts.
“Yeah?” he acts interested and raises his sunglasses up to his hair. “How does he act around you?”
“Well,” you start gushing, “he is a little closed off with his emotions.” True. “He doesn’t like me talking to other guys.” Ooh, interesting. “He can’t stand being ignored,” you chuckle. Can he now? “And… he is so cute when he’s jealous. He has this glare whenever I don’t give him enough attention, but he would never admit it. He likes being intimate with me, likes it when I reassure him. He never says it out loud though, I can just tell by looking at him. I’ve never felt this way for anyone, never fell in love with someone until I met Jungkook. I just want to make him happy because he used to look so sad when I watched him from afar.” A hopeless romantic.
Maybe if you didn’t sound so genuine and innocent, he would’ve made fun of you. But he just feels pity for someone who is so giving to someone who gives back so little. You don’t deserve it; don’t deserve to stay up working on so many assignments; don’t deserve to not have any hobbies; don’t deserve to be so unloved. You are pathetic, but it doesn’t turn him off.
Taehyung is a host too.
He clears his throat at the unexpected stirring emotions in his heart, “What do you love about him? Do you like being treated like shit or something?”
“He doesn’t treat me badly! He is like a light switch, you know? He doesn’t know how to act, sometimes sweet and sometimes… a little mean. I love him for his pure heart, and I believe that we are similar in a lot of ways.”
Taehyung can’t contain his snort. Similar? You are opposites. You are similar to him, not Jungkook. He feels… jealous. The pairing is just so ridiculous and flawed, but you’re neither of the two; you are just good. Taehyung can be good too. “So, what’s your Instagram user?”
The lack of commentary and escalation of the topic catches you off guard. It’s a distraction. “I don’t have an account,” you reply in confusion.
“Wow, I’d expect you to cyberstalk Jungkook on there,” he jokes with a laugh.
“He has an Instagram?”
He purses his lips, his grin faltering as he nods. He takes out his phone from his pocket to show you the account, and holds it in your face. Your lips part as you gently take it from him, curiously inspecting the collage of images. 
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“He plays the guitar?” you ask in awe. You click on each picture to zoom in on them, and your heart jumps upon seeing his selfies while Taehyung hums. He is gorgeous in your eyes, and you want to keep up with his posts in hopes of seeing another selfie. These are hidden gems that Taehyung had the courtesy of providing to you.
“He’s learning,” Taehyung says, “you should sign up and post some pictures as well. You’re really cute.” His cheeky compliment makes you happy; he is basically giving you his blessing! 
“Thank you, and you’re right,” you chirp, “I will make an account after I finish this essay. Want to take a picture with me?”
It’s safe to assume that Jungkook wouldn’t mind you talking to his best friend, so why not expand your social circle? You’ll be more involved with his life this way. Taehyung stammers slightly before agreeing. He switches benches to sit next to you while you rummage through your backpack to find your phone. He finds it strangely endearing how you hold it, using your index finger to swipe between apps to find the camera. It almost stings his heart that you’re so old-schooled in a cute way. Once you angle it above you with your arm stretched out to your left, Taehyung appears to be behind you as he lowers his glasses. You smile brightly into the lens while he cutely puckers his lips. 
Click.
“Are you wearing perfume?” he asks before he can stop himself. Your scent tickles his nostrils sweetly, and he doesn’t know why he’s noticing so much about you or holding a conversation with a woman without being naked. It’s been a hot minute since Taehyung’s had such a platonic interaction, and it shouldn’t feel this nice. He shouldn’t want to continue it through social media either.
“Yes! Do you smell strawberries? I noticed Jungkook eating them before, so I use just about anything strawberry scented. Lotion, shampoo, shower gel…”
He tunes you out as you gush and focuses on the smooth movement of your lips. You’re too good, and Taehyung knows he isn’t the best person but at least he’s not as bad as Jungkook. I shouldn’t think like this… but am I wrong? He will break your heart. What if it’s the right time to intervene to save you from that misery, and be a friend to both of you? He doesn’t want you to fall apart and be completely crushed right in front of his eyes, not when he just witnessed how childishly happy and naive you are. It wouldn’t be fair to you, nor to the life lesson he was taught years ago.
And he then notices that you're wearing strawberry lip balm. 
“Jungkook kis-” -sed someone else before coming to you. You hum and tilt your head at his interruption, waiting for him to finish his sentence. “Jungkook… does love strawberries.”
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Though your work ethics are questionable for how exhausting they are, it gets the job done sooner. The moment you’re assigned a task, you do it, regardless of if it’s yours or Jungkook's. Saturday evening and Sunday are free for you, so you spend your time outside after leaving your backpack in your dorm. You think you look silly, taking pictures of anything you find interesting to post on Instagram. You made an account, but it appears like a bot with its empty feed. Jungkook enjoys doing this, so you want to try it as well. 
You don’t stray far from campus because you’d easily get lost, and your gallery looks boring to you. The only decent photo you have is with Taehyung, but you want to post a picture with Jungkook before anyone else. You grumble under your breath while walking back to the dormitory building. You look through Jungkook’s posts again as you do so with a smile. 
A heavy arm slings over your shoulder and hitches your breath just as the culprit says, “What’s the rush?” He doesn’t even look at you, and you wonder if he recognized you from your clothes after coming up from behind you. 
“Jungkookie!” you cheer excitedly. He glances at you and quirks a brow at the nickname. His eyes then trail to your lit up phone and snatches it from you, which you don’t fight against.
“You’re stalking me?” He scrolls through his profile from your phone and smirks before stating, “I didn’t know you had an Insta.” The both of you enter the building with his arm still wrapped around you, which flutters your heart.
“I made one today, since you use it.” He exits his profile to look at yours. You’re in the elevator as you inform, “Taehyung told me.”
A pause, then a click. Jungkook snapped a photo of you when you pressed the button of your floor. “Pretty,” he comments while looking at your candid shot. You’re flattered and also happy that he’s joining your trip to your dorm. He hasn’t said a word of protest and takes the lead in going to your room. “What else?”
“Hm?”
“What else did he tell you?”
You rack your brain to remember anything significant to tell him. It was a long conversation: getting to know each other and more about Jungkook. “He told me you have an Instagram, then asked for my perfume, and then we talked about your love for strawberries-”
“Your perfume? Why was Instagram even brought up?” he presses, stopping in front of your door. 
You take out your keycard and shrug while swiping, “He asked for mine.”
The dorm is empty when you enter and sit on the edge of your bed. It’s very hard to not grin when you’re around Jungkook, but he doesn’t seem to care as he looks through your gallery. “Can we take a picture together?” you peep hopefully. 
“Of course,” he murmurs absentmindedly, intently staring at your phone. “We’ll take many pictures,” he looks up at you before leveling with the camera, “pose.”
You aren’t very educated on the art of posing per se, so you imitate the peace sign you saw him do with a wide smile and a hand on the bed. He is neutral when he snaps a picture with a shutter. 
“I want you to be in it.”
He drags his eyes away from the screen and his blank expression intimidates you. “Whose idea was it for you to make an account?”
“Um… Taehyung, why?” You lay your hands on your lap at the growing tension.
Taehyung went to this extent to get a reaction out of him? Is it possible that he’s this obnoxious? Or perhaps another motive…?
“I-Is he not your friend?”
Jungkook breaks his silence of thoughts with a scoff, “Oh, only the best.” You sigh in relief, though he says it with menace. Taehyung was curious about his relationship, not about your social media. He forcefully pushes you down on the bed and you hold back a gasp as he wraps his finger around your neck in a light chokehold with a thumb on your nether lip. Click. He then lowers his hand to your thigh, hiding half of it under your skirt with a gentle grap. Click.
Your cheeks flush at the compromising photos he’s taking and you nervously ask, “A-Am I going to post these?”
“Shut up.”
You seal your lips shut and he flips you on your stomach, palming your covered ass with your side profile in the frame, and another shutter resounds in the room. “Sit up.” You follow his command and turn around to face him. He pushes your hair to your back and his mouth latches onto your neck. He’s biting you while sucking on your flesh, and you release a breathy moan at the feeling of his tongue swirling on the sensitive skin. It hurts, but you don’t complain and try to make sense of the growing arousal in your lower region. He only pulls away after half a minute and you’re confused by the satisfied smirk on his face while eyeing the result. He angles your jaw to expose your neck better and snaps another photo. “These are all going on your account.”
At your nod of submission, he starts unbuttoning your shirt. “You’re prettier with a mark. My mark.” Your body tingles at the compliment and you help him undress yourself by unbuttoning the ends. “Take off your skirt,” he demands as he slips off his shirt with ease. All of your clothes go off one by one as he does the same, and you don’t have the time to feel shy as his lips collide so roughly with yours that you’re pressed down against the mattress again. You still haven’t gotten the hang of making out, but it doesn’t matter with Jungkook because although it flows naturally, he also takes complete control over you. He’s not gentle, not with the way his teeth clash against yours and tongue leaving trails of saliva all over your mouth. Your toes curl with desire and anticipation, and you tug at his briefs that outline his erection. The feeling of his warm breath on you silences all your thoughts and you can only react on primal instincts. 
His crotch brushes against your bare folds, slick with your leaking wetness. Kissing him this passionately always leaves you feeling needy, and it embarrasses you that you get turned on so easily. But you don’t realize that is his intention as he glides his fingers all over your labia, making sure you’re ready to take all of him. 
Kissing you this passionately always leaves him feeling horny, and it’s apparent with his cock begging to be taken out of the restraints of his underwear. You don’t know how long you’ve been kissing, but your lips are numb when he pulls away to position himself in your entrance. He doesn’t prepare you, but he doesn’t rush himself either as he painfully slowly enters you. You hold your breath and gawn on your swollen lip, moans catching in your throat and leaving as high-pitched hums. He sighs at the feeling of your pulsating walls. “God… always so tight. Don’t you ever touch yourself?”
He bottoms out and you whimper shakily at how full you are. The fact that he fits you like a puzzle piece convinces you that he’s your forever, your meant to be. Even with your lack of experience with other men, you believe no one can make you feel this dreamy. And to think he’s all yours now… “I-I don’t. I only want to do it with you.”
The atmosphere is so fragile, so romantic. It’s not your delusion this time, because he feels it too and it makes his heartbeat sync with yours: unsteady and rapid. And in the heat of the moment, he reveals, “I think I’m in love with you.”
A whine leaves you, so loud that it can’t be achieved with touch but with his words. It’s the utmost pleasure, and when he realizes what he said, he sets a rushed pace to distract himself from the embarrassment of pouring his feelings. You don’t allow him to forget as you echo, “I’m in love with you too.”
“No, no,” he denies with a shake of his head and it emits more love confessions out of you in a chain of ‘I love you’s, and he grunts, “Stop. Shut up!” He pins your forearms on either side of your head in a bruisening grip and thrusts into you harder. You have no choice but to scream in pleasure, unable to form coherent words when he’s practically fucking your brains out. 
His feelings of humiliation translate to his actions: he pushes himself down to the hilt, throbbing with lust but doesn’t chase his high. He doesn’t want you to talk, not when he’s blushing for more than one reason, so he ignores the contraction of his muscles and just fucks you until he can’t anymore, hypnotized by the bounce of your tits.
Maybe it’s a good thing that he’s so desperate, hitting your most sensitive spot with every thrust and making your eyes screw back. Neither of you can think, so loud and reckless until you reach your climax. It’s core shaking, as you cry out his name and tremble with stimulation. He’s never seen this expression on your face, one so twisted in pleasure and looking so erotic. It comes as a surprise and in the form of a punch in the gut as he savours your appearance before cumming inside you with a groan. A slip-up, a mistake, but he doesn’t care as he paints your walls in white, his load filling you up.
And he can’t regret it when he pulls out, because the drizzle of his cum spilling out of your pussy easily becomes his favorite sight. “Shit,” he whispers as more and more drips while you twitch and spasm from your orgasm. You don’t even realize what he’s done, and that makes his chest swell with pride; the most level-headed woman he knows is leaking with his release and stupidly doesn’t spare it a thought. And with that hickey on your neck? “You look fucking gorgeous,” he exhales. A bashful smile stretches across your face with eyes still tightly shut, and you don’t notice him grab your phone on the other side of the bed to take a picture of your stained pussy. 
“This one is for me,” he mutters to himself. Click.
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After posting the softcore photos on your account and tagging himself in them, as well as a note of a pharmacy’s address across campus with a label written for you to get two separate contraceptives as an emergency and for your next creampie, he leaves your dorm. You fell asleep on him, and though he had wanted to join you, he decided to collect his scrambled thoughts and go to Taehyung’s dorm first. He isn’t livid, but he has a few questions to ask.
He’s playing cards with Yoongi, Taehyung’s roommate, as he patiently waits for his arrival. “What’s wrong about asking for her Instagram, though?” Yoongi asks before drawing out a card of ace. “Isn’t she our friend by association anyway?”
“It’s suspicious,” Jungkook murmurs while inspecting his deck. “Have you ever seen Taehyung with a girl before? As friends? He’s clearly trying to fuck her.”
Yoongi stifles a laugh, “That’s a reach. Besides, you two have shared a girl before. Are you actually dating her?”
Shuffling is heard behind the door until it swings open as Taehyung enters. “Kookie! What are you doing here?” He throws his keycard on his bed before hopping on Yoongi’s to watch their game.
It’s strained, Jungkook notices. His excitement is forced; why? “I came here for you,” he states bluntly. “A little birdie told me you’ve been talking to someone who belongs to me.”
“I didn’t realize she was your diary,” he tries to lighten the mood with a joke. “What’s the deal anyway? You said you weren’t dating her.”
Yoongi collects the deck of cards after Jungkook drops them, and shuffles them while eavesdropping. He’s sitting cross-legged across from Jungkook, and Taehyung is sitting on the edge of the bed next to him with his body turned sideways.
“I also said that unless you have a death wish, don’t talk to her,” he grits. “And asking for her social media? Are you into her now?”
Taehyung merely shrugs. “I thought she was pretty chill. I don’t know why you’re so mad.”
“She obviously means something to him, so I think you should just respect that, Taehyung,” Yoongi voices his thoughts while leafing the cards. Jungkook looks to the side and pokes the inner cheek of his mouth with his tongue but doesn’t argue.
“I think he’s just using her.” Jungkook’s reaction is instant as Taehyung’s nose instantly starts to bleed from the impact of his fist. Yoongi doesn’t look up. He holds a hand over his injury with a hiss and continues, “Really, Kook? A little too much, don’t you think?”
“Less than enough,” Jungkook fumes, “I like her, and she likes me. Just fucking leave it at that.”
“Couple of the year,” Taehyung chuckles mockingly, “I give it two days.” He stands up before Jungkook can hit him again. “Can’t wait to console her after your break-up, maybe she’ll fall in love with me next.”
Jungkook starts chasing him around the room as Taehyung runs without stopping his provocation. “Why so upset Jungkook? Do you see it happening too? I’m already imagining how tight-”
“You should leave, Jungkook.” Neither of them listen to Yoongi, so he yells, “Jungkook, leave!”
A moment of deafening silence passes as both of them pause to catch their breaths. “She’s too sweet,” Taehyung begins, “too kind, too nice, everything you’re not. You wouldn’t be trying to keep me away from her if you didn’t know that. Are you afraid she’ll like me better?”
“Go fuck yourself,” Jungkook spits with a heaving chest. “She’s loyal to me, but I’m sure you’re not familiar with that concept. No wonder your relationships only last one night.” With a final glare, he leaves as told to return to you. The only thing he needs right now is one more ‘I love you’ from you, as much as he hates it. Maybe he’s cruel, but he doesn’t know anyone who isn’t aside from you. 
Maybe Taehyung is just as cruel, fantasizing about all the ways he could be better for you before drifting off to sleep with a bandage over his wounded nose. He can just be a friend to both of you… he can be good too… 
640 notes · View notes
arcticguk · 3 years
Text
santa baby | knj
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❅ pairing, au, warnings: kim namjoon x reader, fluff, allusions to smut, angst, emotionally and verbally abusive parents, swearing, fake dating au, best friends to lovers au, christmas au
❅ précis: you ask namjoon to be your pretend boyfriend for the holidays.
❅ word count: 4,667
❅ part of my holiday drabble series
❅ a/n: pls lmk if u need me to tag anything extra! i put stuff in the warnings, but do not hesitate to tell me if it’s not enough. also we’re gonna ignore the fact that this fic is so much longer than any of my other xmas ones :)
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“Namjoon, please?”
“No.” He says firmly, shoving another spoonful of noodles into his mouth. “If this is the only reason you invited me to dinner, I’ll stop coming.”
You snort, loudly. “Like that’ll ever happen. You can’t cook for shit.”
He frowns, setting his fork down beside his near-empty bowl. “And if I do this for you, what will I get in return?”
“Besides my lovely friendship?” You smirk, earning a glare from Namjoon. “I’ll make you dinner every night for a month.”
He presses his lips together, contemplating. “Sold!”
You roll your eyes playfully, flicking his forehead.
“Hey now!” He scolds. “Is that any way to treat your fake boyfriend?”
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Your family was very big on appearance. They didn’t care that you sister and her husband practically hated each other, as long as they plastered on fake smiles and put on a good show in front of everyone. They didn’t care that your little brother and his boyfriend had been broken up for two months, they paid the boyfriend to come to a family event and pretend to be infatuated with your brother for one night.
You’d showed up solo to Christmas in the past, but according to your parents, this year was important. They were throwing a huge Christmas Eve party with all of their friends, coworkers, and extended family. They’d made it very clear that if you weren’t going to show up with someone, then you might as well just not show up at all.
And you knew you should just say fuck it and not go. That’s what your brother was doing, but deep down, as much as you hate to admit it, you still crave your parents’ validation and praise.
Namjoon knows how rocky your relationship with your parents is, that’s why he was so against the idea in the first place, but here you were, packing for a trip home with your ‘boyfriend’.
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“Okay, we need a backstory.” Namjoon says from the passenger seat. Reaching for the coffee in your cupholder to steal a sip. “Like how we met and started dating.”
“Wait!” He perks up. “Do your parents know that we’re friends? Because then we could say we were friends and then fell for each other or—”
You cut him off with a sharp shake of your head. “No, they don’t know. I don’t tell them very much about what goes on in my life.”
“Okay.” He says softly.
You crack a smile, biting your lip to keep tears at bay, ones you didn’t even realize had formed.
“So, this backstory huh?”
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Namjoon grabs both his duffel and yours, helping you shoulder your backpack as he does the same. You take a shaky breath before slamming the car door shut. Namjoon reaches for your hand, giving it a light squeeze.
“Five days,” He breathes in your ear. “You’ve got this.”
You squeeze his hand in thanks, pocketing your keys with your other hand. “Let’s go then?”
You and Namjoon make your way up the front walk, observing the perfectly decorated façade of the house, something you know your parents paid good money for. Before you can ring the bell, the door is yanked open, both your mother and father standing there to greet you.
“___!” Your mother chirps, pulling you in for a hug. She squeezes for a second before letting you go, prompting your father to do the same.
“And who is this handsome young man?” Your mother wonders.
“This is Namjoon.” You swallow. “My boyfriend.”
Your mother smiles, clasping her hands together underneath her chin. “Oh, how wonderful!” She squeaks. “You didn’t tell me you were dating anyone.”
You shrug helplessly. “I wanted to surprise you!”
“And what a lovely surprise it is.”
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“So, tell me again why we have to change for dinner?” Namjoon wonders, buttoning his grey shirt. You fluff your hair once more before turning to smirk at Namjoon.
“Because, everything in this family is an event.” You say sarcastically, giggling. He laughs, wiping his palms on his dress pants.
“You did great by the way,” You comment, sliding silver hoops into your ears. “I think they love you already.”
He looks at you, admiring the way your chiffon jumpsuit fits you, how great the black material looks against your skin.
“Joon?” You wonder, ripping him out of his daze.
“What? Oh, thanks.” He smiles.
“Hmm.” You grin, reaching up to fix a piece of his hair. He’d recently dyed it black and you were obsessed, you can’t get over how good it looks on him.
“You ready for dinner?” You wonder, reaching for his hand.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” He sighs, pasting on a smile, gripping your hand tightly with his own.
As you make your way down the grand staircase, leading Namjoon, you smile with ease, surprised at the calm in your being. Family dinners always filled you with dread but having your best friend by your side seemed different, less scary.
When everyone is seated at the large, mahogany table, you start on your salad, taking a sip of water. For most of the meal, your parents focus their attention on Namjoon, peppering him with questions about his job, his education, and childhood.
Namjoon smoothly transitions the conversation back to your parents, wondering; “If ___ told you about her big promotion at work?”
Your mother’s gaze shifts to you, raising her eyebrows expectantly. “That’s great sweetheart, congratulations.” You smile at the praise, your face warming bashfully.
After dinner and dessert, you and Namjoon bid a goodnight to your parents, sister, and your brother-in-law, before heading up to your bedroom.
“Are family dinners,” Namjoon starts, tugging his shoes off, once your door is shut, “usually that tense?”
You nod solemnly, removing all your jewelry and pulling out the elastic from your hair. “You really impressed them though!” You exclaim. “And that’s not easy to do.” You mumble, looking down at your feet.
“I’m sure it is for you.” He laughs. How could your parents not be impressed by his beautiful, intelligent, kind, and brilliant best friend.
You shrug, pulling some clothes to sleep in from your bag. “I’m gonna change then the bathroom’s all yours.”
He nods, taking the opportunity to change into his own sleepwear, setting his watch on the dresser, and setting his phone on the charger.
When you emerge from the bathroom, clad in a hoodie and matching sweatpants, Namjoon smiles softly, switching with you so he can wash his face and brush his teeth.
When he exits the bathroom, you’re working your dinner outfit onto a hanger before placing it in the closet.
You flick the overhead lights off, turning on one of the bedside lamps to cast the room with a warm glow. Namjoon awkwardly stuffs his hands in his pockets.
“I can sleep on the floor.” He speaks up. You give him a look, arching an eyebrow.
“Joon, don’t be silly,” You comment. “It’s a king size bed.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
He smiles, gingerly sliding into the bed, tugging the covers over his lap. You smile, doing the same, pulling out your phone to watch something while Namjoon opens a thick novel from his bag. The two of you sit in comfortable silence, each doing something separate while together. It’s not awkward, in fact just the opposite. The space surrounding you and Namjoon is comfortable, calm, and it feels nice.
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Namjoon learns that breakfast is the only meal where it is acceptable to dress down. After informing him that pajamas, are in fact, allowed when he’d gone to get dressed. After you slide into your slippers, he wraps an arm around your waist, letting you drag him down the stairs just as you had the night before.
You and Namjoon are the first people to arrive at the table, so you scoot your chair extra close to his, giggling when he stumbles getting into his chair. His smile dimples his pink cheeks, a sight that makes your heart flutter in your chest.
Your head is nestled in the crook of his neck, cheeks warm with laughter, giggles escaping your lips at the story Namjoon finished telling you. Namjoon’s lips are parted in a wide grin, one arm flung loosely around the back of your chair, the other one resting on your thigh. When your laughter has subsided, you nuzzle further into his neck, sighing heavily. Namjoon’s hand cradles the back of your head, lips near your ear.
“You doin’ okay?” He wonders softly. You nod against his neck. You reach for his free hand, squeezing it tightly with your own.
“I’m fine.” You breathe. “Just a little on edge.”
He nods in understanding, pressing a kiss to your hairline.
It was not unusual for you and Namjoon to be affectionate with each other, but this morning, butterflies were flapping in your stomach, the way Namjoon is treating you borders on couple territory.
“Well look who’s up!”
The warm, soft atmosphere Namjoon had created for you, vanishes when you hear your mother’s voice, your shoulder’s tensing, head whipping around.
“Hi, hey, good morning.” You stumble, moving you chair back to its normal spot, putting some space between you and Namjoon.
“Good morning.” Namjoon greets with a dimpled smile. He reaches for your hand underneath the table, giving it a big squeeze.
You smile at the small show of affection and squeeze back.
Your parents wait until your sister and her husband have joined at the table, taking their seats directly across from Namjoon and you.
“Orchid!” Your mother says, speaking directly to your older sister. “You should’ve seen Namjoon and ___, when we first came down.” She smiles motioning at the two of you. “They were all over each other.”
Your sister looks to you, eyebrows raised.
“We weren’t, I don’t—” You flounder for words in your haste, Namjoon smoothly cutting you off as he puts his arm around the back of your chair.
“It’s hard not to be when you’re with someone as wonderful as ___.” Namjoon chirps. You step on his foot under the table.
“Cheesy much?” You wonder, quiet, but still loud enough for the other members of the table to hear you.
“Only for you honey.” He produces a megawatt smile before pecking a kiss to your temple.
Your mother practically falls out of her seat swooning, but not before giving a pointed look to Orchid and her husband, Sungmin.
That was what your mother did. She pitted the two of you against each other, pulled out your insecurities and served them out on a silver platter. Orchid and Sungmin were on the brink of divorce, of course they aren’t affection with each other. You were just waiting for your mother to sink her claws into you.
“Oh but ___, did you hear about Orchid’s big case?” She wonders, a vile smile creeping up her face. “It’s very important and her boss has entrusted her with handling it. I have no doubts she’ll win.”
“That’s great Orchid.” You smile. “Congratulations.” You feel genuine warm feelings towards your sister, your shitty childhood making your relationship stronger. Orchid had often held you when you cried and let you sleep in her bed when you were really upset after something your mother had said.
“And ___,” Your mother shifts her attention fast enough to make your head spin. “How’s work?”
“It’s great.” You manage through gritted teeth.
“She actually just got a promotion.” Namjoon smiles. “Like I said last night, its super exciting.” You don’t miss the little dig at your mother, and you suppress the urge to laugh. He grins proudly and you can’t help but smile a little. Namjoon had been the most supportive person in your life ever since he came into, overwhelmingly proud when you became got your degree and again when you got your first serious job.
“I’ve never understood how people can find joy in accounting.” Your mother spits. “It seems boring and there’s so many numbers.”
“Actually,” You pipe up. “It’s very interesting and you can really—”
“Still, I could never do it.” She cuts you off sharply.
“___ is incredibly intelligent.” Namjoon speaks again, eyes locking right on your mother’s. “It’s not boring for her. Although I could see how it could be for those who don’t understand numbers as well.”
Your mother’s jaw drops just the slightest, before she shuts her mouth, arms falling helplessly to her lap. You could kiss Namjoon right there, no one’s ever gotten your mother to shut up like that and you revel in it.
Once your mother has composed herself, she clears her throat, gaining the attention of everyone, yet again.
“So Namjoon, what do you do?”
“I’m a writer.” He answers, posture tall and confident, his eyes right on hers again.
“That’s lovely.” She comments. “Did you know that Sungmin is a doctor?”
“I did not.” He says politely. “That’s a very admirable job.”
“So is writing!” Sungmin pipes up. “I’ve always wished I had a talent with words like that. I used to pay my friends in university to write papers for me.”
Namjoon chuckles at that, smiling.
“Namjoon writes for a magazine in our city and he does some freelance stuff for big companies too.” You say proudly and he grins at you.
“That’s awesome man,” Sangmin comments. “I’d love to read some of your stuff sometime.”
“Yeah, I can—”
“But surely writing can’t be as fulfilling as a doctor. Nothing can beat saving lives.”
Everyone straightens grimly, all smiles disappearing.
“Remember I’m a general care physician, I don’t perform major surgeries.” Sungmin smiles awkwardly.
“That doesn’t mean you don’t save lives baby.” Orchid coos, setting her hand on his forearm. “But no career is better than another.” She comments, looking directly at your mother. “Every job is important, and everyone has different things they’re passionate about.” She looks at Namjoon now. “And I think writing is wonderful. You must be really smart.” You smile at your sister in thanks and she winks.
Your mother just scoffs, finally deciding to be quiet and eat her breakfast.
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That was really…intense.” Namjoon sighs, tugging a clean crewneck over his head. You look up from the mirror where you’re rubbing moisturizer into your skin.
“Hmm.” You hum in agreement. “I’m so sorry by the way. The way my mother treated you was unacceptable.”
“It’s okay.” He answers honestly. When he sees your frown deepen, he sets his hands on your cheeks.
“___. I promise you it’s fine.”
“I just feel bad. It’s bad enough you had to come here and do this but now my mother is insulting your career and—”
His thumb nudges your chin, prompting you to stop talking. “First of all, I didn’t have to come here okay? I chose to be here. And second, you are not accountable for the things that mother says. She’s not nice to you either.” He reminds you with a soft smile.
“Thank you.” You say simply. He kisses the top of your head before scrounging his suitcase for his Converse. “Okay, I’m making an executive decision for us.” You state, flopping down onto the bed. His eyebrow quirks in curiosity, smiling, encouraging you to go on.
“We’re going out.” You announce. “I can show you my hometown, we can go shopping, get food. And if we time it right, we won’t have to be here for lunch or dinner.”
“I like the way you think.” He smirks, winking as he laces up his sneakers.
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You’re a little buzzed from the spiced cider you had at dinner, giggling when Namjoon helps you out of the car, one arm already full of bags from the purchases you’d both made that day.
One of the things you loved about coming home, was getting to visit all the little shops and restaurants that were set up in town. You and Namjoon spent the day supporting your local small businesses and you couldn’t have been happier. It was a great way to spend time with your best friend—and get away from your parents.
You lean into him as you make your way up the front walk, giggling again when he trips on the cobblestone, his stature pitching forward before he catches himself.
Your parents and sister are lounging in the front room, your parents seated on the large sofa, your sister and Sungmin across from them on the loveseat.
“___, Namjoon, come join us!” Your mom suggests cheerfully, a glass of red wine resting in her hand.
“Okay,” Namjoon nods. “Let us take these bags upstairs and we’ll be right back.”
Namjoon leads you up the staircase, hand on your lower back.
“We probably should hang out for a bit,” You comment. “We haven’t seen them all day.”
Namjoon nods in agreement, taking the bags from your hands, setting them in the closet alongside his suitcase.
“Lemme just change,” You say, peeling your sweater over your head, eliciting a blush on Namjoon’s cheeks, his head ducking down.
You trade your sweater and jeans for a hoodie and Christmas-themed pajama pants, heading into the bathroom to scrub off your makeup while Namjoon changes into sweatpants and a t-shirt.
Your parents look up when you reenter, smiling softly when they see the way you’ve nuzzled yourself into Namjoon’s side.
“Oh! Look what we put up earlier!” Orchid comments, pointing to the doorframe right above you and Namjoon.
Mistletoe.
“Oh, ha ha.” Namjoon chuckles awkwardly, his face heating up once again.
“Come on lovebirds,” Your sister laughs. “Give us a little show.”
“Gross Orchid.” You mumble, glaring right at her.
“You have to!” Your mother giggles. “It’s the rules.”
Namjoon looks like he wants to melt into the floor, scratching the back of his neck.
You aren’t sure if it’s the alcohol that’s lingering in your body, or how cute your best friend looks with his red cheeks, but something fills you with confidence, and you squish his warm cheeks with your hands, pressing a hard kiss to his pouted lips.
Your parents laugh and cheer, Orchid clapping good-naturedly. When you pull away from Namjoon, his eyes are wide, puffy lips parted in astonishment.
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“So, this is it huh?” Namjoon wonders, straightening the red tie around his neck, which not-so-coincidentally matched the exact shade of your cocktail dress. “The big party.”
“Yup.” You nod, double checking your makeup in the mirror.
To say Namjoon was nervous about the Christmas Eve party, was an understatement. He was freaking out. He wants to make a good impression on everyone, in hopes that he can sell the lie the two of you have been living the past few days.
“You’ll be fine.”
He nods, swallowing harshly. He doesn’t admit it to you, but the party isn’t the only thing making him uneasy. You had never talked about last night, after you had kissed him, everything went on as usual, as if it never happened.
You slip into your heels, giving him a small smile.
“Alright,” You sigh softly, taking his arm. “Party time.”
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You swallow another sip of champagne, gripping tightly to Namjoon’s arm. He had survived all of the introductions, and unsurprisingly, everyone loved him.
Dinner had already been served, and everyone was mingling, upbeat holiday music filtering through the speaker system, champagne and wine flowing easily.
Your parents were talking to some clients from your mother’s interior design firm, and you know without listening that she’s talking about you and Orchid.
That’s the thing about your mom—she’ll criticize every decision you make, but in front of everyone else she plays the proud, devoted parent, bragging about all of your accomplishments, as if she had anything to do with them.
Namjoon senses your discomfort and he nuzzles his cheek against the top of your head. The wine he’d been drinking had earlier served as liquid courage, but now that he was relaxed, he was just sleepier and cuddlier than usual.
“You okay?” He murmurs, lips at your ear. You nod robotically, leaning against his shoulder. Obviously, you’re not okay and he knows that, so he takes your hand, leading you outside to the back patio for a moment of fresh air.
Noticing the chill on your skin and the shiver in your movements, he drapes his suit jacket over your shoulders, wrapping an arm around you.
“You’re not okay.” He whispers. “What’s the matter?”
“It’s just,” You sigh, leaning into his embrace. “My mother. She’s so critical and finds fault in everything we do, yet when it comes to appearances and other people, she has nothing but good things to say.” You bite your lip to hold back the tears that fill your eyes, looking out into the wooded backyard. “If she really is proud, then why can’t she ever tell us?”
“Oh honey,” Namjoon frowns.
“It just feels like nothing I ever do is good enough. I work hard, I did well in school, but it’s like it’s not good enough. Why do I care so much about my parents’ approval, why can’t I just be proud of myself because I’ve done well?”
You don’t stop the tears from falling, splattering onto your cheeks and no doubt making tracks in your carefully applied makeup.
“I’m sorry.” Namjoon whispers. “I’m so sorry that you feel this way. I’m insanely proud of you and I wish you could see how wonderful you are, so deserving of love and praise.”
“I love you.” You blurt, the words spilling so easily from your lips, with a little help from the champagne in your system.
“Oh,” He smiles. “I love you too, you know th—”
“No Namjoon, I love you.” You murmur.
Something sparks in his eyes, you don’t see the way his demeanor changes, as he realizes what these feelings were—are. Spending all this time with you has made him feel different, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on the feeling. But now, he knows, he loves you too.
“Can we go upstairs?” You wonder. “I’m so tired, I can’t be down here anymore, I just want—”
He cuts you off with a nod, taking your hand and letting you lead him to the back staircase, so you can escape without anyone seeing you.
Once the door is closed—and locked, you fling off your heels, flopping onto the bed. You drag your ring finger under your eyes, in attempt to collect the mascara clumps that washed off your eyelashes with the tears you’d shed.
“I love you too.” Namjoon announces, throwing his tie and shoes in a pile before standing over you. “God, I love you so much. I never realized how I feel, but now I know and—”
You cut him off with a press of your lips on his, hands grabbing for his shoulders and pulling him down. His lips melt into yours, returning the kiss with more fervor, mouth warm and soft.
You’re gripping on his shirt, clawing at the buttons when he pulls back slightly, running a hand through his damp locks, slicking it up onto his head.
“H-honey,” He starts, stumbling over his words a little. “I don’t know if we should be doing this right now.”
“What?” You pout, sitting up. “Why not? Do you not—”
“No, no, no, trust me I want to.” He sighs. “But you’re upset, we’ve been drinking…” He trails off and you whine.
“Joon please, I want this, I want you, I love you.” You frown, setting a hand on his cheek.
He looks into your eyes, searching for an ounce of hesitation. When he doesn’t find any, he you pull him back down, hovering above your form.
“Are you sure?” He murmurs, his breath ghosting over your lips.
“Positive.” With your affirmation, he presses his lips to your own, lightly tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth.
He breathes in the groan that passes through your lips, sighing deliciously. After Namjoon’s tie is crumpled on the floor and a failed attempt at the buttons on his shirt, you tug on each side until it releases, the fabric literally ripping before you toss it away.
Namjoon only chuckles, shifting positions so that you can straddle his lap. Your hands grip his hair, exhaling when his lips meet the skin on your neck.
“I love you.” He simpers, lips behind your ear. “I love you so damn much.”
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When you wake up the next morning, something’s changed. Not only between you and Namjoon—who’s currently cuddled into your side—but also the way you feel about yourself.
“Joonie,” You coo, tousling his hair. “Joon wake up, it’s Christmas.”
“Mmm, morning Christmas,” He murmurs sleepily. He nuzzles his face into your neck, eyelids falling shut.
“Namjoon,” You whisper. “C’mon. Let’s get up.”
“Please?” He whines. “Can we please sleep for a little longer before we have to go down there?”
“No Joonie, we’re going home.” You push back the covers and climb out of the bed, cold air flushing your skin.
His head snaps up, eyes perking up. “What?!”
“We’re leaving.” You announce, sliding on his t-shirt from two nights ago. “Unless, you want to stay?” You tease, raising an eyebrow.
“I’ll start packing now!” He gets out of bed, pressing a kiss to your cheek before grabbing some fresh clothes and entering the bathroom.
You dress and pack up your belongings, so that when Namjoon is ready, you are too.
The two of you hold hands down the stairs, leaving your bags by the doorway before venturing into the kitchen.
“Good morning!” Your mother chirps. “Merry Christmas!”
“Hey guys.” You greet awkwardly.
“Come, sit down—have some breakfast, then we’ll open gifts.”
“Actually Mom,” You breathe. “We’re leaving.”
“What!?”
“Namjoon and I are going to go home.”
“Absolutely not, sit down.”
“No Mom. I don’t wanna be here anymore. I thought now that I’m grown up you would actually treat me with an ounce of respect, but I was wrong.”
“Excuse me?” Your mother snaps.
“Come on honey, let’s just go.” Namjoon urges, squeezing your hand tightly. You shake your head, squeezing his hand back.
“Before we leave I have something to say, and you’re going to listen to me.” You tell your mother, tone firm yet gentle. “For my entire life I’ve taken shit from you. The verbal abuse, emotional abuse, all the digs, all the criticism. Nothing I ever did was good enough for either of you and I’m done with it. I’m happy with who I am, what I do, and who I choose to spend time with. I’m done trying to impress you, this is my life, not yours. I am more than good enough and shame on you for not seeing it.”
You take a shaky breath wiping the single tear that fell down your face while you were speaking.
“And you Dad?” You add, redirecting your gaze. “You never did say anything. Never stood up for us, and God forbid you actually were proud of us without Mom telling you, you were allowed to be.”
Your parents sit there, dumbfounded. You take a moment to catch your breath before turning to look at Namjoon, who is trying very hard to bite back his grin. Orchid’s face is a mixture of admiration and pure joy, mouthing; I’ll call you later.
“Honey, I’m sorry you feel that way.” Your mother manages, thinking for her next words.
You swiftly shake your head.
“I love you both, but we’re leaving.” You smile. “We can work through this, only if you’re willing. But for now, I want to go home and spend Christmas with my boyfriend.”
You and Namjoon turn to leave, collecting your luggage before loading up the car.
“Holy shit.” Namjoon blurts. “That was fucking amazing, I’m so proud of you.”
“Thank you.” You smile. “It felt good.” He leans over to kiss you, hand cupping your cheek.
“It was also pretty fucking hot.”
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© arcticguk 2020. absolutely no reposting, translating, or modifying, even with credit.
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sinsofsummers · 4 years
Text
Quarantine Kisses
Request: n/a
Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader
Word Count: 2.56k
Summary: You’d only gone to New York for a job interview. Who knew a weekend would turn into a quarantine with an old friend?
Warnings: none, just fluff!
Note: keep in mind, this is completely unedited. i just felt like posting a full-length fic for once. i have no idea if it’s good or not. 
in other news, i hope everyone is doing well considering these dire circumstances. i sincerely hope this fic will take away some of your anxiety/stress, at least for a few moments out of your day. we’re all going through this together, friends. we may be physically isolated, but that doesn’t mean our minds are in different places. we are still one.
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(gif not mine, from erikisright)
Self-isolation, you had decided, was not your thing.
The endless hours of staring into space, or at a blank wall, or at the precise spot on the ceiling where the paint had chipped away, were taking a toll. You weren’t sure how much longer you were going to be able to stand this. Even if it was with Sebastian.
In truth, it wasn’t supposed to end up like this. You weren’t supposed to have spent more than a few days with him. A week, at most. Your trip to New York had started as simply a job offer, traveling from out of state to pursue an opening for a publishing company you were eager to work for. To be quite honest, that was all you’d had planned for yourself. In the beginning.
Somewhere along the planning process, Sebastian had reached out. He was an old friend, someone you’d met through distant connections elsewhere. When you’d first met, you had to admit, he was charming and sweet and the easiest person to talk to in a room full of people. But you two had never become close friends to the point of really talking all the time. Time had passed since the last time you’d seen him, and after a while, it started to feel like your friendship was a thing of the past.
On that unexpected day, however, it seemed you were proven wrong. Sebastian rarely texted you to begin with, but your phone had buzzed, and when you looked at the screen, it was a message from him. It was a simple greeting, asking how you were and mentioning that he wanted to catch up, but it made you smile nonetheless. You’d forgotten about him, as your life had begun to move swiftly, almost tripping you up a couple of times and leaving you face-down on the pavement. 
After texting back and forth, hesitantly growing more comfortable with each other and returning back to that place of near-friendship from years in the past, you broke the news that you would be in New York. 
“Oh, really?” He’d replied quickly, his voice lilting in surprise. “That’s great, how long will you be here for?”
You had pondered the question. “I mean, probably just the weekend, but I’m pretty flexible. I don’t exactly have a job that’s tying me down,” you chuckled lightly.
Sebastian cleared his throat. “Well, you know, if you end up having any extra time—I don’t know what your schedule is gonna look like—if you want, you know, we could, uh, go for drinks or dinner or I could show you around the city...if you want?”
You can still vividly remember how hard you had to bite your bottom lip to keep a teasing giggle from falling from your lips. He was just as you remembered: fumbling over his words in the most endearing way possible. You couldn’t help but nod. “Yeah, I should have some free time, why not?”
And that was that. You’d gone to New York, you’d gone to the interview, and then you had a few days to yourself. A few days that, you hoped, would be well spent. Thanks to Sebastian’s easy smile and kind words, they were very well spent.
On the last day of your trip, however, was when the quarantine was announced. You’d been safe, keeping your distance from others, wearing masks wherever you went, but it wasn’t enough. You were staring down a dark tunnel of isolation, not knowing when it would end. 
“I should get back home,” you’d announced that morning upon hearing the news. “It’s better for me to be back there before anything else happens.”
Sebastian had other ideas, though. “I don’t know, is that really a good idea? Flying right now? They’re canceling flights left and right, do you even think you’d be able to get one?” He was leaning up against the countertop in his kitchen, the two of you hanging out and having a cup of coffee.
You’d shrugged. “I mean, I guess. I didn’t really plan for this, though. I mean...financially,” you mumbled, your thoughts falling from your lips rather than staying in your head like you’d meant for them to. Shit, your subconscious cursed. Why’d you say that?
It was practically inevitable, the softening of Sebastian’s features as he looked at you with his arms crossed, the epitome of sympathy. “Hey, I mean...you can stay with me. You won’t have to pay a dime. Well, unless you ask me to do your laundry,” he added with a shy grin.
You furrowed your brows. “Isn’t that against the point of this quarantine? We hardly know each other anymore, aren’t we supposed to isolate with people that we live with?” His offer was tempting, you could admit, but it was wildly unreasonable.
Sebastian simply shrugged. “Why not? It’s not the ideal situation, sure. But how else are you going to get home? You don’t have a car with you.” Holding up his hands upon seeing your uncertain expression, he continued, “You don’t have to, I’m not forcing you to stay. I just wanted to offer an alternate option, that’s all.”
“No, that’s nice,” you nodded, looking down at your dark coffee, “really. What other choice do I have, you know? Like, are they gonna close down the state borders? How long is this gonna be? Weeks? Months?” It was unprecedented, historic, and you were stuck in New York, rather than your own home. 
You’d always thought that when the apocalypse happened, you would be sitting on the couch in your living room, sucking on Jolly Ranchers. Instead, you were thousands of miles from home in the kitchen of a man that was hardly a close friend. It was almost poetic how fucked up everything had become so quickly.
Sebastian had merely shaken his head, sucking in a deep breath and squinting his eyes as he formulated a thought. You couldn’t help but notice the way his nose scrunched in concentration. “Well,” he said, obviously trying to offer some sense of reassurance, “you know, it could be just a couple of weeks before it’s over. Who knows?” 
But even as he’d said it, the both of you knew it wasn’t true. You’d looked up at him, sitting down in a chair while he stood across from you, the same expression of doubt on your faces. You had your living situation figured out, but for how long would it have to last?
Who knows?
— — — 
“Sebastian!”
The water stopped running in the kitchen. “Yeah?”
“Am I allowed to change the channel?” You asked, eyeing the ceiling as you awaited his answer. You knew the answer would be yes, of course, but you’d found over the last month that it gave you great joy to watch him squirm a little bit. 
Sure enough, his head popped around the corner, cocking an eyebrow. “Yeah, absolutely,” he nodded, “I don’t care. Watch whatever you want, I’m just finishing up in here.”
Grinning, you grabbed the remote triumphantly and began searching for something else to watch. “Don’t be too long, Seb,” you teased smoothly with a slight smirk, “I’m getting lonely in here.”
He’d already gone back to the kitchen to finish cleaning up dinner, but you could practically see the blush that was no doubt emerging on his cheeks. “Yeah?” He called, a smile evident in his voice. “I thought you’d be sick of me by now.”
“Never,” you answered as he came back into the living room, “not a chance.” You had to admit, it was easy to become distracted by his easygoing personality and charming smile. In fact, it was at that very moment that you couldn’t stop looking at the way his sweatshirt hung on his shoulders, his sweatpants hanging on his hips perfectly. As per usual, he was wearing that blue baseball cap that hid his brown locks from your view. And he was absolutely divine.
He sat down beside you, just close enough that his knee brushed your socks, as you were sitting curled up on the couch. “What are we watching now?” He asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets. As the loud theme music boomed from the speakers, you failed to hold back a boisterous laugh at his jerky, shocked expression. “That 70s Show?” He asked, a growing smile on his face. “God, I love this show!” He looked at you with such a wide smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes and created the deepest dimples in his cheeks that you had to look away. 
With the comedy show playing, your socked feet gently pressed against Sebastian’s leg, and the easy silence between two strangers-grown-friends, you changed your mind.
Perhaps self-isolation was your thing.
It was dark rings left by coffee mugs long forgotten by time, it was scratchy blankets curling under your feet to hold in the most warmth. It was old movies playing on repeat as background noise to distract you from the earsplitting silence in your mind. It was subtle glances and fleeting touches, a fingertip here, an elbow there. It was savoring the trips down to the end of the driveway to roll out the garbage cans, it was relishing in the feeling of fresh air, untainted by Bath and Body Works candles.
But most of all, it was catching him watching you while he thought you didn’t know. It took everything in you to maintain a straight face, but all you wanted to do was stare right back into those bright blue eyes that were in your mind all the time, even when you closed your eyes. Oh, how you wanted to look deep into those eyes and listen to every sentence he had to say, his calming voice reverberating off of the walls of your head. You could listen to that man speak all the time, and you would if it were possible. 
All thoughts of going back home after the quarantine was lifted had dissipated. All that shamelessly filled your head nowadays was the thought of letting your hand linger against his for once, instead of pulling it away so quickly. His hands were so soft, his skin smooth in a way that made you want to curl up under a hundred blankets and sleep, knowing he existed. 
Of course, it had only been around a month and a half. You’d spent so much time together, you’d talked into the late hours of the night and early hours of the morning, yes, but that was only due to circumstance. In the real world, a month of contact only amounted to a week. This attraction you felt, it was all very fast, coming over you in a wave so overwhelming that you hardly knew when it had. You weren’t quite sure what it was like to not feel his eyes on you, to feel the urge to look right back at him and ask, please kiss me, goddammit.
It was now the middle of April, and the two of you were (yet again) on the couch, winding down from a busy day of doing nothing by watching That 70s Show. You’d become distracted a long time ago, trying your best to keep your eyes on the screen but being unable to stop looking at Sebastian. 
Sebastian and his damn baseball cap. 
He noticed you staring. You knew he did because his lips curled up at the corners, just slightly. Instead of looking away like you were used to, he turned his head and planted his blue eyes on yours. “Do I have something on my face?”
Blushing furiously, you shook your head. “No,” you whispered. “I’m just looking.”
“Mind if I look back?” He asked smoothly, adjusting himself on the couch so he was facing you fully.
Unable to find words, you fell silent and simply shook your head. Your hands were in your lap, thumbs fiddling in a desperate attempt to calm your nerves as you realized, we’re really close. It was true; your knees were touching as you both sat cross-legged on the cushions. 
The two of you went on like this for a few minutes, the noise of six teenagers falling on deaf ears. You were engrossed in each other, every sense of discomfort or awkwardness gone in a matter of seconds. This was the result of weeks spent with each other. An unexpected experience that, looking back on it, you wouldn’t dare change. 
“Hey,” you said softly, breaking the silence. “Are you ever gonna show me that head of hair you’ve got?” 
He smiled gently, a breathy chuckle escaping his pink lips. “That depends.” He’d leaned closer, you could tell. You could see every speck and sparkle in his eyes now.
“On what?” You breathed, hardly able to keep still. 
Sebastian’s grin was contagious as he shrugged and replied swiftly, “If you’ve got the guts to go for it.”
Your chest collapsed at the teasing smirk that he displayed, leaning so close to you that you could brush your lips against his. And oh, how you wanted to. You carefully lifted your hands from your lap so as not to disturb this aura of tranquility that surrounded the two of you. One hand reached up to the brim of his hat while the other hovered over his knee. Slowly, you lifted the hat away from his head, savoring the way his eyes fluttered shut at your touch. 
His hair, though matted and lacking any sort of volume, was fluffy and soft, curling around your fingertips. You ran your hands through the brown locks, addicted to the shaking breaths that fell from Sebastian’s lips, his pink, plump lips that were so ravishing. 
At this point, you were so close that it was almost a disservice that you didn’t kiss him. Still, you whispered, “Can I kiss you?” It was the quick, childish nod that had you weak in the knees. 
With your hands in his hair, at the back of his head, you tugged him into you and pressed your lips cautiously against his, your own eyes closing. Immediately, it was like you breathed a sigh of relief. His lips were so warm, so soft, and so perfect that you could have cried.
He kissed you back with the same gentle innocence of a teenager and their first kiss, endearingly clumsy. His lips slid against yours easily, his hands curling fists into your shirt and pulling you into his lap, your legs straddling his hips. You almost let go of his hair and spread your hands to his shoulders, his strong back, but when you delivered an unintentional tug at his roots, the deep breathy groan that he released into your mouth had you melting. 
Sebastian had his hands all over you, sliding up and down your sides, curling around to hug you closer to him, moving up your back to tug on your shoulders, resting on your hips with gentle squeezes here and there. You couldn’t believe you had waited a whole month and a half to do this. 
Again, maybe quarantining wasn’t the worst thing you could imagine.
He finally pulled away, his eyes closed but his forehead resting against yours. “You getting sick of me yet, sweets?”
You smiled at the nickname. “Never,” you whispered, lifting your head to press your lips to his forehead. “Not a chance.”
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Text
New Start
Summary: Andromeda starts high school and meets someone new
Tagging: @dilpickledd @melyaliz @coffee-randomness @speedypan
Read Earlier Parts Here
Andromeda wasn’t entirely sure why she felt so excited as she stood in front of the high school building. She looked up and took a deep breath, this was going to be a new beginning for her. Sure some kids from her middle school would be here but there would also be kids from different schools that she never met before. Letting out a small huff she headed off the bathroom to add some finishing touches to her look.
Luckily the bathroom she found was empty; the gossip girls hadn’t taken over the bathroom yet. She dug around her backpack for her makeup bag, smiling when she found her brothers encouraging note tucked into the small pouch.
Knock’em dead
Andromeda shook her head, folding the piece of paper and tucking it into the back pocket of her shorts. It was a new method he was trying to help build up her confidence. Checking her watch she quickly got to work on getting her makeup on. She nodded at herself in approval as she took in her appearance smoothing her hands over her black bodysuit. She adjusted her thin cardigan so it hung just right then packed her things and headed to her locker.
She took out the bag that had the clothes she had originally left the house in and stuffed it in her locker. A quick look at her schedule and she deposited the books she didn't need to carry before lunch. Just then the bell rang and Andromeda quickly took off to her first class.
Most of her classes had been pretty uneventful, the teachers mainly droned on about whatever their syllabus said they were going to do over the year. If there was time then they would make everyone do a meet and greet around the classroom. Andromeda's hope about making new friends seemed to dwindle over every class as some kids seemed to carry on friendships into high school.
By the time her science class rolled around she decided to stick to the back row of the class as the students started to file in. Andromeda was busy trying to get the rest of her band pins on her backpack to pass the time. She would probably need to invest in a different backpack if she wanted to decorate it properly.
“Is this seat taken?” Someone asked beside her, making her look up.
Andromeda couldn’t help but blink several times at the boy who stood by the stool that was next to her. His soft brunette hair was perfectly tousled; he had a kind smile but his eyes were hidden behind a set of visor looking sunglasses, which was a strange combination with what seemed like pretty boy clothing.
“Sure.” Andromeda cleared her throat realizing she had been staring a bit too long.
“Thanks.” He said, taking a seat. “I’m Scott.”
He held out his hand and Andromeda stared at it, was this guy serious? Still she shook his hand.
“Andromeda.” She replied.
“Andromeda?... that’s a nice name are you-“
“Nope parents like Greek things, just not the lifestyle.” Andromeda said, making Scott look at her curiously.
“Im sorry what?”
“Inside joke, never mind.” Andromeda shrugged and quickly pinned the last button she needed.
The teacher came in then and started the same speal as the other teachers. Andromeda doodled on her paper as the teacher talked, occasionally glancing over at Scott who seemed to be taking notes on his own syllabus.
“I suggest you get to know the person next to you as they will be your lab partner for the rest of the year.” The teacher said, taking a seat at their desk.
Andromeda continued to doodle but she felt Scott turn to face her after putting his paper away.
"That's pretty nice." He said eyeing her dragon that stretched along the border.
"Thanks." She said adding the finishing touches. "So how do you wanna do this? Play 20 questions? Just get basic information out of the way?"
Scott seemed to stare at her, his mouth opening and closing as if he couldn’t find the right words to say.
“You always this articulate when talking to someone?” Andromedas asked and Scott let out a small shy laugh rubbing the back of his neck.
“I’ll admit I’ve always had a difficult time talking to new people.” He said looking down, Andromeda nodded slowly.
“Well then we have that in common.” She said smiling softly at him he seemed to stare at her in shock but she wasn't quite sure it was a little hard to read him with those sunglasses blocking his eyes.
“Really?” He asked, still eyeing her.
“I’ve lived in Bayville three years and so far my only best friend is my little brother.” Andromeda admitted a small chuckle escaping her, however she noticed Scott's face seemed to drop.
“Hey sometimes little brothers can be the best of friends." He said softly.
"You have one?"
"Had."
"Oh." Crap things got dark fast. Andromeda looked at Scott and patted his arm awkwardly.
"So you said you moved to Bayville?" Scott asked.
"Yup."
"What for?"
"The company my dad works for wanted him to relocate." Andromeda simply explained her hands trailing back to the doodle.
"That must've been hard." Scott said, looks like he was trying to be the empathic one this time.
"It is what it is." Andromeda shrugged. "What about you? No offense but you don't really strike me as a Bayville local."
It was Scott's turn to be a bit reserved now. "I lived in Alaska up until a couple months ago when my new foster dad brought me here. So I'm pretty new.
"Well then." Andromeda said signing her name on the corner of her sheet and slipped the paper towards him. "Looks like we have another thing in common."
Scott looked down at the finished doodle. "Don't you want to keep the syllabus?"
"Nah, I'm good, keep it." Andromeda shrugged and got up as the bell rang. "See you later."
~~~~~~~~~
Andromeda smiled politely at all the lunch ladies and attempted some small talk as she grabbed her food. Rule number one of making it through school always befriend the lunch ladies and the janitor they tend to have your back if something happens. Andromeda scanned the cafeteria, this part is the one that always sucked, picking a lunch table to sit at.
Andromeda had quickly spotted Scott he was sitting next to a boy she slightly remembered from one of her classes. Hmm Andromeda wasn't sure if she should sit down with Scott or not, she couldn't help but still feel a little awkward. Why was making new friends so hard? Andromeda decided to leave them alone for now Scott said he was new and it be good for them to branch out and make friends. Maybe she could just sit outside soak up some sun, however as she made her way past the table Scott was at she spotted a boy sitting alone, his little sack of lunch looking as lonely as him. Everyone seemed to avoid him as they passed and as Andromeda got closer she had to admit she realized why, he didn't really have a pleasant smell. Still she sat down at his table making him look at her questionably.
"Hi." Andromeda said with a smile.
"Hi?" The boy said, still looking at Andromeda skeptically.
"I'm Andromeda."
"Todd."
Andromeda took a bite of her burger and eyed Todd's sack lunch.
"Whatcha got?" She asked.
"Just a sandwich." He said, pulling out a soggy looking sandwich.
"Want some fries?" Andromeda asked, she had gotten some extra courtesy of Linda who smiled when Andromeda complimented her on her hair color.
Todd was about to say something when they were interrupted by a blond boy that Andromeda was all too familiar with.
"Aw looks like dummie finally got a little boyfriend.” Said Duncan his friends snickering behind him
“Duncan.” Andromeda said looking up at him. “Shocker to see you here, what did mommy have to sleep with the principal to help you get in?”
A couple of his friends stifled their laughs and Duncan glared at her.
“Jokes on you, the principals a woman.”
“And that would stop your mother because?” Andromeda heard someone choke and she turned to see Scott and his friend trying to stifle their laughs
A woman then appeared in front of Andromeda making her stiffen.
“Is there a problem here?” She asked her eyes piercing as they stared at all of them through her glasses.
“No Principal Darkholme.” Duncan said.
“Then carry on.” She said making Duncan leave quickly, she looked down at Andromeda studying her carefully before walking away.
“Well she's scary.” Andromeda mumbled.
“You have no idea.” Todd mumbled.
“What classes you got next?” Andromeda asked, wondering if they’d have any together.
“Computers and P.E.” He said warming up to her.
“Cool, we got P.E. together.” Andromeda said, pushing her fries to him again and this time he accepted them.
~~~~~~~~~~
Andromeda cheered as she flew through the air that night feeling a rush like never before.
"St- in r-ng." Her brother, Adonis, voice cut through her thoughts.
Andromeda sighed and looped backwards and hovered.
"Better?" She asked.
"Perfect." He said.
"You really need to amp the range on these little things." She said flying in a slow circle.
"I'm trying." He said, looking up at her from his spot. "You seem in a good mood. I'm guessing school was fun."
"Yeah, I made a couple friends. I think… I definitely made one friend. I'm still unsure about the other one.” Andromeda said as she slowly began to descend. “I’m gonna need a new backpack though. I literally spent most of my day putting my pins on only to have to take them off on the bus ride on top of doing wardrobe change.”
"I'll add it to the list. Maybe I can convince mom to take us to the mall this weekend." Adonis said holding his hand out so Andromeda could hand him back the communication device.
"What about you, how was school?"
"I'll admit it's not as fun when you're not around." He said putting their things away.
"Aw you miss me." Andromeda teased ruffing his hair making him smack her hand away. "We should head back, I don't want to be tired for school tomorrow."
"You seem a little too happy about going to school." Her brother noted.
"And that's a bad thing because?"
"Oh my god." Adonis stopped and stared at his sister.
"What?" She asked.
"You're crushing on someone." He said.
"What? No I'm not." She defended herself.
"You totally are." He said laughing.
"I've barely been to school for a day how could I be crushing on someone already." She said matching his pace as he started walking again.
"Oh trust me you only have that face when you fly and you still have it now."
"I just had a pretty good day at school." Andromeda grumbled.
"Alright alright." Adonis said holding his hands up in surrender though that stupid smile hadn't left his face.
"I hate you." Andromeda mumbled.
"No you don't." Adonis smirked, he was definitely going to rub this in her face later.
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larryfanfiction · 5 years
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Fairy! AU
🍃 May We Stay Lost On Our Way Home by LoadedGunn (74k)
Harry thought he had a handle on things. He hasn’t gotten papped in over a month, even the most zealous of fans have given up on finding his location, the Fortress is starting to look hospitable, and Niall just learned how to make shrimp bisque. Even having a massive crush on a gorgeous mythical woodland creature was working out for him.
Most of the time.
On March 31st, Harry Styles disappears. Though many speculate, only two people know where to find him: Niall, his former guitarist, and Zayn, who follows where Niall leads.
The fact the biggest boy band in the world broke up two weeks earlier might be related to the disappearance. The fact Harry meets a fairy named Louis in the woods is a whole other matter.
(Liam is a centaur.)
🍃 hold on to your stars before they fade by adelagia (31k)
The first time they meet, it is sunrise, and Harry is naked.
(Or, the one where Harry is a lost fairy, and Louis takes him in.)
🍃 got me losing every breath (i’m latching onto you) by kissingiscool (14k)
It’s a blur to him, chasing Louis down from point A to point B, through a maze of pathways and a chorus of short giggles, chromaticity of canary and fern as dirt sticks to the soles of his running feet, and he feels alive, more alive than he’s ever felt in all of the twenty-five years of his life. More alive from the time he first when skiing. More alive than from when he had his first kiss. Just looking at Louis gave him a new definition of alive. He doesn’t know how long he’s been chasing, but the pounding of his heart and huff and puff of each breath that’s punched out of his lungs is so addicting that he doesn’t ever want to stop chasing him.
(or an au where louis is a fairy with a fear of thunderstorms and a talent of knitting and harry is a vet with three cats and a lot of love.)
🍃 Black with Autumn Rain by whimsicule (93k)
“Thank you,” Geoff says, taking a sip of his tea. “What did you tell him?”
Louis has a sip as well, lets the tea burn down his throat too quickly, too hot, and he feels it all the way down to his stomach. “The truth. Essentially,” he replies after a moment, licking his lips, relishing the slightly bitter taste of the brew that’s never quite strong enough for Louis’ liking. At least it’s not decaf. “That my dog scented it. That I didn’t touch the body. That I came here first thing.”
Geoff nods pensively. “Did he believe you?”
“Probably not. There’s only so many people who can drown on dry land before it gets fishy.”
or: Harry is a journalist, Louis has lots of secrets and the moors aren’t exactly the ideal place to rekindle a lost romance.
🍃 Away With The Fairies by Snowy38 (22k)
Harry liked pretty things.
Mostly the ornate flowers that grew around him, the trees majestically climbing towards the sky, sometimes the little colourful birds that flitted around in the branches of those trees.
Harry’s wings themselves were considered beautiful, big butterfly-like shaped things glistening pink in the light but white underneath, almost translucent.
He fluttered them behind him, feeling the breeze brushing off them. He was high up where he could see the most, studiously watching the human life on the ground below.
He shouldn’t be here of course, he was beyond the borders of the part of the forest where his kind lived, but he couldn’t help it.
Because Harry had found the prettiest thing of all.
🍃 Collision by itjustkindahappened (207k)
Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.
(Featuring Liam, the big and not-so-bad wolf who’s got a thing for humans, Zayn, a human with supernaturally good looks, and Niall, the cupid who just wants his job to be easier.)
🍃 I Won’t Treat You Like You’re Typical by moutonrose (5k)
Louis is a pixie and Harry is an elf. They meet at X-Factor auditions and fall in love.
🍃 Boiling Blood Will Circulate by whoknows (42k)
The wait isn’t long before something starts rustling in the bushes. Harry takes aim, squeezes the trigger, body moving unconsciously. They’re motions he’s done a thousand times before, and his body knows how to do it without the input of his brain now. It’s what makes him such a good shot.
He misses. The shot misses.
Something howls in the woods, a pretty clear indication that Harry hit it, but there’s no telltale sounds of a big body dropping, no animal charging out at him to take him out before he can finish the job.
Something does turn and run, though. “Fuck,” Harry spits out, scrambling to his feet and slinging the rifle back over his shoulder, giving chase. He’s not going to lose this hunt.
The trail of blood goes on longer than Harry thought it would. He doesn’t know how long he runs for, but his muscles are burning, chest heaving with exertion, until the trail just - goes dead. No more blood, just like that.
“Fuck,” Harry says.
🍃 Gently As She Goes by graceling_in_a_suit (33k)
Louis had been Harry’s best friend for as long as she could remember. She was a shoulder to cry on, a head of hair to practice braiding on, a mind as mischievous as Harry’s to scheme up antics and pranks with, someone to fall asleep next to when the nights were cold or when they both got lonely. Someone to dance with, to learn with, to laugh with.
They were girls together.
Then Louis left.
A modern fairytale (literally!) featuring a quest to bring a lost girl home, celtic goddesses, braiding, friendship, true love, and magic.
🍃 Delight in Masques by kassio (27k)
Popstar Louis Tomlinson has been pulling one over on the mortals for years. In the five years since he put on a human illusion and tried out for the X Factor, none of them have realised that he’s one of the Fair Folk – a cat shapeshifter, to be precise – and he’d like to keep it that way.
When he returns to the X Factor as a guest judge, the last thing he expects is for some half-Siren fool to use magic on the judges. Unfortunately, that’s exactly what Harry Styles does. Now Louis has to track down some rogue changeling before he exposes them all. Even worse? Apparently, Harry doesn’t even know what he is.
(An urban fantasy adventure, set in the world of - but not crossing over with - the October Daye book series. No need to be familiar with those books; I just want to give credit where it’s due on a lot of the worldbuilding.)
🍃 The Prince Of Light by jacaranda_bloom (35k)
Louis was found abandoned at a hospital at six months old and adopted by an older couple who raised him. Now twenty, he studies by night and by day works as a live-in au pair for a family with three little girls. One of the girls, Holly, swears there is a Garden Fairy coming and eating treats she leaves out in the cubby house each night.
When the family goes away for a two week holiday, Louis is secretly tasked with feeding the Fairy. While laying out the food one night he falls from the cubby house and is found by Harry. Harry is different and Louis is fascinated. But as Louis learns how different Harry really is, he discovers his own true home and a very surprising past he never knew.
Cue badgers, bananas and cookies, soulmates, a whole other world, and a future he’d never imagined.
🍃 The Fairy Ring by thedeathchamber (46k)
Harry has dreamed of a world outside the tiny village of Holmes Chapel for as long as he can remember… a world full of magic and adventure and true love. It was nothing but a childhood dream, however, until an old family friend comes bearing word of a plot against Harry’s life and a very dangerous truth: Harry is the rightful heir to the crown and must embark on a perilous quest to reclaim his throne from the ruthless would-be King Simon. But in the end Harry will find himself fighting for more than a crown, and on the verge of losing something much more precious than his sovereign power. Because magic might be real, but life is not a fairy tale, and Harry is a prince up against a very big dragon.
Or: a medieval fantasy AU in which Harry is a prince in disguise and Louis is the king of the faeries.
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newstfionline · 4 years
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Headlines
Should schools reopen? (NYT) Across the political spectrum, there have been calls for the reopening of U.S. schools this fall. And understandably so: Remote learning went very badly in the spring. An autumn without in-person school would leave students further behind and leave many parents without child care again. The good news is that the experience in other countries suggests that it may be possible to reopen schools. Germany, Denmark and others have done so without causing big new virus outbreaks, as President Trump noted yesterday. But those other countries have taken two steps that the U.S. has not. One, they have first reduced the overall rate of new infections to low levels: Germany reported 35 new cases per million residents over the past week; the U.S. had almost 1,100. Two, some of those other countries have allocated new money for schools, as I heard after surveying some of my Times colleagues around the world. Hong Kong is covering the cleaning costs for its schools, Bella Huang told me. South Korea is helping schools open day care centers from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. or longer, Su-Hyun Lee, who’s based in Seoul, said. Germany is subsidizing laptop purchases for low-income students, to help them combine remote and in-person learning, according to Christopher Schuetze in Berlin. And Italy has sent money to schools to pay for more teachers, student desks, masks and other equipment, Elisabetta Povoledo, a reporter in Rome, told me. The U.S., by contrast, is suffering through by far the worst coronavirus outbreak of any affluent country, and the federal government has done little to help schools reopen.
United Airlines warns 36,000 workers they could be laid off (AP) United Airlines is warning 36,000 employees—nearly half its U.S. staff—they could be furloughed in October, the clearest signal yet of how deeply the virus pandemic is hurting the airline industry. The outlook for a recovery in the airline industry has dimmed in just the past two weeks, as infection rates rise in much of the U.S. and some states impose new quarantine requirements on travelers. Airlines say they must shrink to match falling travel demand. American Airlines executives have said they could have 20,000 more employees than the airline will need this fall.
Pandemic Plunges Puerto Rico Into Yet Another Dire Emergency (NYT) As the coronavirus pandemic sweeps the globe, shutting businesses, killing the vulnerable and crippling economies, Puerto Rico has taken one of the country’s hardest economic hits. The pandemic has plunged Puerto Rico into its fifth dire emergency in three years, one that the government has struggled to manage. Thanks largely to hurricane reconstruction, Puerto Rico’s economy had been inching toward recovery after a devastating 2017 storm and the bankruptcy of the island’s government the same year. A civic uprising paralyzed the island last summer and led to the ouster of Governor Vázquez’s predecessor. Then a series of earthquakes shook the south side of the island in January, damaging homes and buildings, sending thousands to live on the street, and closing schools across the island. As of last week, despite guidance from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention that everyone should be washing their hands frequently during the coronavirus pandemic, the governor announced that because of a severe drought, parts of the island would have running water only every other day for the foreseeable future. Experts say this latest economic crisis has been even more difficult than the one that followed Hurricane Maria. On an island that already had the highest poverty rate in the United States, at least 300,000 Puerto Ricans have filed unemployment claims linked to the pandemic—out of a civilian labor force of 1.05 million—and many others are ineligible for aid because they are part of the island’s large informal economy.
Trump forgoes insults of past, calls Mexico cherished friend (AP) President Donald Trump, who has denigrated Mexican migrants and threatened the U.S. ally with crippling tariffs, welcomed President Andrés Manuel López Obrador to the White House on Wednesday, called him a cherished partner and claimed the countries’ economic and security ties were reaching new heights. Trump’s warm words were in stark contrast to the days when he called Mexicans “rapists” and railed against migrants entering the United States illegally. López Obrador had cordial words for Trump, too, saying that while they have disagreed, it was better to find common ground and avoid slinging insults. The meeting was billed as a celebration of economic ties and the new U.S.-Mexico-Canada trade agreement.
Fugitive Mexican governor apprehended (Foreign Policy) César Duarte, a former PRI party governor of the Mexican state of Chihuahua, was arrested in Miami on Wednesday, more than three years after he fled his home country after being accused of embezzling $4.2 million in public funds. On top of the corruption allegations, Duarte is alleged to have stolen hundreds of cows originally imported to his state to replace thinned-out herds following a damaging drought. Duarte now faces extradition to Mexico.
Anonymous letters providing solace in the pandemic (BBC) Medellin--When the letter arrived at Daniel Guzmán's doorstep, it provided him with a glimmer of hope during one of the hardest moments of his life. "Keep going, when this is all over, you will walk out of the house with your head held high and your heart willing to give the best of you," it read. It was signed simply "Niña Peregrina" (Spanish for "Wandering Girl") Niña Peregrina's was one one of hundreds of letters that have been exchanged by complete strangers in the Colombian city of Medellín during the country's months-long quarantine. The anonymous letter exchange is part of a project by a network of libraries in the city. Called "Love In the Time of Coronavirus", it is inspired by Gabriel García Márquez's novel Love in the Time of Cholera. The novel tells the story of a couple who fall in love in their youth but who are forced to stop courting when the girl's father finds out about their secret relationship. For the next five decades they exchange love letters using pseudonyms. When the libraries in Medellín closed as part of the measures brought in to curb the spread of coronavirus, Bibiana Álvarez decided to play with the idea that García Márquez had laid out decades before. She and other community leaders put out a call for residents to send in anonymous letters of friendship, love or support. Whenever the team receives a letter, they decorate it and then send it on to someone who has also sent in a missive. The recipient is chosen at random and neither recipient nor writer are told each other's identity. "Writing has been incredibly powerful, [it acts] as a sort of catharsis, they can burn off steam, and they feel that they're not alone," she says.
Greece says it’s ready to reimpose restrictions (AP) Greek authorities say they are ready to re-impose public and travel restrictions next week, warning that safety guidance for the coronavirus is being frequently ignored. Stelios Petsas, the government spokesman, said authorities were “determined to protect the majority from the frivolous few,” adding that the government was likely to announce new restrictions if needed on Monday. Greece, which imposed strict lockdown measures, has kept infection rates low. But cases have crept up since restrictions were lifted and international travel resumed in recent weeks.
Hungary to review rules on travel to neighbours after COVID-19 spikes (Reuters) Hungary will on Thursday review rules on travel to neighbouring Austria, Serbia, Croatia, Romania, Slovenia and Slovakia where numbers of coronavirus cases have been rising, Prime Minister Viktor Orban’s chief of staff said. The landlocked country lifted most of its lockdown restrictions and opened its borders to travellers from European Union states and neighbouring non-EU members in June. Austria issued travel warnings for Bulgaria, Romania and Moldova on Wednesday because of the worsening coronavirus situation in those states.
Demonstrations in Serbia (NYT) Thousands of Serbs demonstrated for a second consecutive night on Wednesday in response to President Aleksandar Vucic’s management of the coronavirus crisis and wider concerns over the state of democracy in Serbia. The protests were the first major pandemic-related unrest in Europe since the start of the crisis, and were met by a violent police response that some analysts said they had not witnessed in Serbia since the rule of Slobodan Milosevic, who governed Serbia during the 1990s.
Russia detains governor, accusing him of murdering entrepreneurs (Reuters) Russian security forces on Thursday detained a regional governor who staged an election upset against the country’s ruling party in the Far East in 2018 and accused him of organising the murder of several entrepreneurs 15 years ago. Russian security forces on Thursday detained a regional governor who staged an election upset against the country’s ruling party in the Far East in 2018 and accused him of organising the murder of several entrepreneurs 15 years ago. Furgal would be charged shortly, the agency said in a statement. He could face up to life in prison, if found guilty of the allegations dating from 2004-2005 that also included attempted murder. The agency did not detail the alleged crimes, but said four members of an organised crime group had already been detained and that people involved in the murders had provided evidence against him.
No Steps Forward, One Step Back? (Foreign Policy) U.S. President Donald Trump this week suggested that North Korea could be open to another face-to-face summit to advance the long stalled nuclear talks that were supposed to be a hallmark diplomatic achievement of Trump’s presidency. But on Thursday, his top envoy for North Korea, Stephen Biegun, returned from a visit to Seoul largely empty handed: There are no public signals that the North Koreans would return to talks. The hot and cold nature of the talks is emblematic of North Korea’s longstanding strategy of opening up diplomatic channels with South Korea and the United States, and then abruptly closing them off and ratcheting up tensions to extract more concessions. Meanwhile, new satellite images show a flurry of activity at a previously undeclared facility in North Korea potentially used to produce nuclear warheads, as CNN reports. Some veteran North Korea watchers predict that the country will begin a new round of saber-rattling before the U.S. election cycle wraps up.
No screaming here (Foreign Policy) Japanese thrill-seekers have been urged by the operators of a Tokyo theme park to refrain from screaming on recently reopened rollercoasters, lest it hasten the spread of the coronavirus. The ban on screaming is part of a set of voluntary guidelines agreed upon by Japanese theme park associations as parks reopen across the country. Hoping to model good behavior for its guests, a video posted by the Fuji-Q Highland amusement park features two of its executives riding the popular Fujiyama rollercoaster in total silence. It ends with a plea to “Please scream inside your heart.”
Australia suspends Hong Kong extradition treaty, tells citizens to consider leaving (Washington Post) Australia suspended its extradition treaty with Hong Kong and offered an immigration pathway for residents fleeing the city, after several Western countries aligned with Washington, including Canada and Britain, introduced similar measures to confront China’s security crackdown in the city. As Prime Minister Scott Morrison announced the measures on Thursday, the Australian government also issued a stark new travel advisory asking its roughly 100,000 citizens in Hong Kong to consider leaving the Asian business hub, citing the risk of arbitrary detention. Australia’s immigration move—which came after Britain, Hong Kong’s former colonial ruler, unveiled a sweeping immigration offer last week—welcomed highly skilled workers and talented entrepreneurs in particular, Morrison told reporters.
Severe bread shortages loom for Syria as fresh U.S. sanctions grip (Reuters) Syria could face severe bread shortages for the first time since the start of the war, another challenge for President Bashar al-Assad as he grapples with an economic meltdown and fresh U.S. sanctions, a U.N. official, activists and farmers said. Any major disruptions to Syria’s bread subsidy system could undermine the government and threaten a population highly dependent on wheat as rampant inflation drives up food prices. “There is already some evidence of people cutting out meals,” said Mike Robson, the U.N. Food and Agriculture Organization’s Syria representative. “...If the currency continues under pressure, imports will be difficult to obtain and the months leading up to the 2021 wheat harvest may see real shortages.”
Virus projects renew questions about UAE’s mass surveillance (AP) Efforts by the United Arab Emirates to fight the coronavirus have renewed questions about mass surveillance in this U.S.-allied federation of seven sheikhdoms. Experts believe the UAE has one of the highest per-capita concentrations of surveillance cameras in the world. From the streets of the capital of Abu Dhabi to the tourist attractions of skyscraper-studded Dubai, the cameras keep track of the license plates and faces of those passing by them. While heralded as a safety measure in a country so far spared from a major militant attack, it also offers its authoritarian government means to track any sign of dissent. “There is no protection of civil liberties because there are no civil liberties,” said Jodi Vittori, a nonresident scholar at the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace who studies the UAE. The UAE’s surveillance state can offer the parlor trick of finding your car at the massive, multistory parking garage of Mall of the Emirates, home to an indoor ski slope. But multiplied across the cameras watching public spaces, buses, the driverless Metro, roadways, gas stations and even all the emirate’s more than 10,000 taxi cabs, authorities in effect can track people in real time across Dubai. In the run-up to the pandemic, Dubai police launched a new surveillance camera program powered by artificial intelligence called “Oyoon,” or “Eyes” in Arabic, which will begin checking temperatures of those passing by, as well as making sure people maintain a social distance of 2 meters (6 feet) from each other. Dubai police also are experimenting with thermal helmet cameras for officers to check passers-by’s temperatures.
Egypt tries to silence its critics in the United States by jailing their relatives (Washington Post) Reem Desouky, an American from Pennsylvania, was unfairly jailed in an Egyptian prison. Mohamed Soltan, an activist in Northern Virginia who helped get her released in May, was himself once a prisoner in Egypt’s jails. But while both are now free and on American soil, the Egyptian government has continued to menace them, pressuring them to remain silent by harassing and threatening their relatives living in Egypt, say victims and human rights groups. Desouky’s brother is in jail without charge to ensure she does not describe her 10-month-long ordeal to the outside world or criticize the Egyptian government, she said. Five of Soltan’s relatives were forcibly taken by security forces from their homes last month, and his imprisoned father was interrogated. That came after Soltan filed a lawsuit in the United States against former Egyptian prime minister Hazem el-Beblawi, accusing him of overseeing the torture Soltan endured in prison. Human rights activists say that relatives of more than two dozen political opponents, human rights workers, pro-democracy activists, and journalists living abroad have been arrested in Egypt, their houses often raided by security forces. Family members have also been slapped with travel bans or hauled into security offices for interrogation, the activists say.
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chibitabathawrites · 4 years
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Fictober - Day 04
Fandom: Rhett & Link
Pairing: Rhett McLaughlin/Link Neal
Warnings: None
Rating: G
Prompt: “I know you didn’t ask for this.”
They were getting to the age where celebrating birthdays was just becoming a hassle. Who really needed a set day to give gifts? They'd known each other for so long that now they would just purchase the item and thrust it into the other's hands as soon as they saw them. Trying to hide anything from the other was like trying to hide an elephant under a doormat.
So when Rhett approached him, hand running across the back of his neck, Link's eyes narrowed. That was a nervous tick that he hadn't seen directed at him in years. "What's up?" he let his hands rest loosely on his keyboard.
"I was just wondering, if maybe," the tall man paused and rubbed his palms along his thighs, "if maybe you were free this evening?"
Link frowned. What on earth was going on? Rhett never got this nervous around him. "Of course I am. I would have told you about any meetings or anything months ago. It'd be in our shared calendar at the very least. Rhett, what's going on?"
Rhett smiled softly, some of his nerves melting away, "Nothing is going on, bo. Just want to take you out to dinner is all. Is that okay with you?"
Link could feel his shoulders relaxing from their tensed up position, Rhett just wanted to take him out on a date. Of course he was nervous, they hadn't gone on an actual date in months. Probably since the early spring. "Of course I am okay with my husband taking me out to dinner. When are we going out?"
"I was thinking of leaving here around six," Rhett moved towards the dark haired man and pressed a kiss against his temple.
"Sounds perfect. Any dress code I should be aware of?" Link hummed before reaching for the tall blond's wrist. Tugging Rhett into his space and pressing a kiss to bearded lips.
"Just be you, we're not going anywhere fancy. You also would have it in our calendar if that was the case," the blond chuckled before pressing another kiss to Link's lips.
Link had showered and shaved, pulled on his nicest pair of jeans, then started to riffle through his shirts. Rhett had said it wasn't anywhere fancy, but he still wanted to look good for his husband. It had taken them years to get to this place, and even though their marriage still felt new to Link, it had been a couple years. That didn't stop him from wanting to look good for the love of his life.
"Link, you almost ready?" Rhett stuck his head in the door.
Link held a shirt in each hand, "I don't know."
Rhett laughed and approached the shorter man, "I wouldn't mind you going out like this, but I believe the place is 'No shirt, no service'."
Link pouted, "Not funny."
"Why don't you wear this?" Rhett reached past Link to grab one of the blue plaid shirts, "You look really nice in this one in particular."
Link quickly put the shirts he had away, before removing the shirt from Rhett's grip, "Thanks, bo."
"No problem, love." Rhett pressed a kiss to Link's scalp before leaving the man to finish getting ready.
Link finally met Rhett downstairs by the door, where the tall blond was ready to go. "Ready?"
"Just let me get my shoes on," the bespectacled man laughed while tugging on his shoes. "Let's go."
Locking the door behind them, the pair made their way to the car. Opening the door, Link blinked, a sweet citrus smell hitting his nose, but not affecting his allergies. "Did you spill orange juice or something in here?" Link's brow wrinkled as he settled into his seat.
"Not quite," Rhett laughed lightly.
The drive itself was quiet, and Link was begging to be confused, they hadn't been down here in years. Familiar and new store faces flickering past the windows. "Where are we going?"
"You'll see," the crypticness of the whole thing was bordering on too much. Starting to grate instead of entice. Link swallowed down his frustrations.
Rhett pulled up to the small bistro they often visited years ago. It was full of warm and fond memories, "We haven't been here in years."
"I thought you might like it. I know it's a little out of the way. But I think it's worth it." Rhett smiled as Link got out of the car, his face lit up like a child on Christmas morning.
"This was a great idea! Thank you," Link walked around to Rhett's side of the car and wrapped him in a hug.
"Don't thank me quite yet," Rhett chuckled in his ear.
Link pulled away and frowned at his husband, "What do you mean?"
"You'll see. Why don't you go in and get us a table. I have to grab something from just over there before the store closes," the blond jabbed his thumb in a noncommittal direction.
"Alright..." Link was suspicious. Everything was just slightly off. But in the end, he trusted his husband and he left him to do his thing.
Settled into a nice quiet booth, Link looked over the familiar restaurant menu.
"Hey," the dark haired man looked up from the menu at his husband.
The tall man was holding a bouquet of delicate looking flowers. "What's this?"
“I know you didn’t ask for this.” Rhett smiled softly before holding out the bouquet, "But it's your birthday, and our seven year anniversary just passed and I wanted to do something nice for you.
Link blinked back the tears gathering in his eyes, "Thank you, Rhett. They're beautiful." He gently took the flowers offered to him.
"They're freesias, they symbolize friendship, innocence, and thoughtfulness. They also happen to be the flower exchanged on the seventh year wedding anniversary."
Link laughed. Only Rhett would find the one flower perfect for their relationship. "They're perfect." Link sniffed them, the gentle citrus scent from the car wafting up from them. "You had these in the car, you sneaky devil, you."
"Caught me red-handed," Rhett laughed before sliding in next to his husband. "Happy birthday, bo."
"Thank you again, Rhett."
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buriednurbckyrd · 6 years
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Necessary Paradox (5)
***THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS MATERIAL THAT MAY BE TRIGGERING; INCLUDING MENTIONS OF STALKING, SEXUAL ASSAULT, AND PTSD. Please proceed with caution***
Y/N paced the kitchen, biting her bottom lip and wringing her hands.  Her nervous stomach rolled and she kept glancing at her silent phone sitting on the table.  
“You can always back out if you aren't ready to talk to him about all of this,” Jeremiah said gently.  “Don't get me wrong, I think it's wonderful that you want to open up and explore the connection, but I don't want you to force yourself.”  She stopped walking and let out a long sigh.
“I think if I don't do it now I never will, and we'll both spend the rest of our lives wondering what could have happened…  At least I know I would. I can't speak for him.”  
“No one likes living with what ifs.  You're doing the right thing.”  Will told her.  The three of them jumped when her phone let out a loud 'ping'. With slightly trembling hands, she picked it up and read the message on the screen.  
“He's here.  You can go let him in on your way out.”  Will kissed her forehead.  
“We'll be back in a few hours, unless you need us.”  He took her hand and squeezed it.  “I'm so proud of you.”  He whispered.  The words of encouragement gave her a boost of strength.  She watched the two men leave, knowing that it would be only another minute or so before Steve was standing in front of her.  It wasn't enough time to prepare her system for the jolt she got when he walked through the door. He was so tall and broad shouldered that it made her feel delicate and small, she hadn't felt that way since she was a little girl.  Then he smiled at her, his bright blue eyes lighting up and it aggravated the flock of birds that seemed to have taken up residence in her stomach.
“Hi.”  She said timidly.  
“Hi,” he replied.  “I uh, brought you this.”  He handed her a cup full of iced coffee.  “I remembered seeing you with a cup from the coffee place down the street so I took the chance that someone working there would know who you were and what you liked.”  He blushed.  
“It's my favorite, thank you.”  She told him after taking a sip.  The effort he had gone through to bring her her favorite drink touched her more than if he had just brought flowers or candy.  It reinforced the gut instincts she had been feeling from the moment their hands touched weeks before.  This was the Alpha for her.  “Let's sit in here, I got some bagels from the deli.”  They sat at the kitchen table and Steve looked around the room.  
“This is really a nice place.  Have the three of you always lived together?”  Y/N let out a quiet sigh.  
“It's part of the story I need to tell you.”  She had been wondering how to begin, and it looked as if he had unknowingly broken the ice.  She took his hand and guided his fingers to her upper arm.  “Press down here,” she told him.  “Do you feel that little bump?  Like a pebble or grain of rice under the skin?”  He prodded her for a moment and then nodded.  “It's an implant to stop my heats.”  
“Like suppressants?”  He asked, looking a little confused.  
“Yes and no.” She let go of his hand and wrapped her arms around herself, covering the spot where the implant was hidden under her skin.  “Most Omegas take suppressants to protect them from going into heat unexpectedly before they're mated.  Some take them after for a while after mating because hormones in the beginning of a brand new bond can be unpredictable and the suppressants help to regulate until the couple's cycles are established.”  She paused to see if he was following her so far, he nodded again.  “This stops my cycle completely.  I haven't had a single heat since it was implanted a few years ago.”  His eyes widened.
“I had no idea they could do that.”  
“It's not common. These implants are only used in rare cases.”  
“And you asked me here so you can tell me why you have one.”  
“Yes.”  She felt chest tighten in anxiety.  “It's not a pretty story, Steve. But you need to know my past before you decide to try and have some kind of a future with me.”  His eyes blazed with stubborn determination.  She half expected him to make some kind of declaration, but he only rested his hand on her knee and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“Go ahead,” he said.  “I'll just let you talk, okay?”  
“Okay.”  She took a deep breath.  “For pretty much my whole life, me and Will have been inseparable.  I was born three weeks after him and our mothers were close to we grew up together, practically like siblings. My parents died in a car accident a few months after we finished high school so he's not just my best friend, he's my family.  When he met Jeremiah…  I decided it was time for me to 'cut the cord' and give them some space to enjoy their new bond and explore their relationship without a third wheel around all the time, so when they moved in here together I found myself a cute little apartment to give living on my own a try.”  She got up and walked into the living room, returning with a book.  “You see, Jeremiah owns this whole building.  The shop, and all the floors above it.”  She pushed the book across the table to Steve.
“J.R. Montgomery?”  He searched his brain for the name.  “He's on the New York Times best sellers list all the time!  Wanda loves his books.”  Y/N grinned.
“That's Jeremiah's pen name.  He uses his grandmother's maiden name.  He's the black sheep of the Samuel family.  His grandfather left each of his grandchildren a very substantial inheritance to be received when they mated.  His family tried to keep it from him because he presented as an Omega and mated to a male Alpha. His grandmother fought them tooth and nail and finally won because her husband's will said nothing about the recipient's presentation or the gender of the person they mated, only that it had to be a mating bond.  They gave him his money and turned their backs on him, expect for his grandmother.  She's a great lady.”  
“Wow. Wanda will be so jealous that I got to meet J.R. Montgomery.”  
“I'll make him sign some books for you to bring her.”  She said with a grin.  It faded when she remembered the reason she was telling him all of this.  “So I set myself up in my own place, living alone for the first time in my life.  I was really happy.  Will and I could finally stop working out of other people's shops and opened our own. I adored Jeremiah and how much he believed in not just his mate, but me as well.  Without his support I don't think any of this would be possible.  Sometimes I still can't believe that the life we fantasized about as kids is actually reality.  I really love what I do.”
“It shows in your work.”  Steve smiled warmly.  
“Unfortunately, it was my job that lead me to the worst thing I've ever experienced.” Now that she was at the real crux of the story, her nerves were starting to get to her.  Her bagel threatened to make a reappearance. “Worse than losing both of my parents in one night when I was eighteen.”  Steve looked like he wanted to hug her but settled for taking her hand, afraid anything more would spook her.
“Take your time.”
“He was a Beta,” she whispered.  “Came in for a tattoo.  He seemed really nice.”  She didn't realize she had laced her fingers with Steve's, holding on to him like an anchor.  “I wasn't used to attention from guys.  I was a fat kid in school, and I spent all my time with my Alpha best friend.  But he was cute and charming and seemed interested in me.  It felt really good to have someone flirt with me.  I didn't really feel any kind of spark, but I tricked myself into thinking I did.  Will didn't like him but I brushed him off.  In my head he was just playing the over protective brother.  So I went out with him a few times.  He acted kind of possessive, but I told myself I should be flattered.  He wanted people to know he was with me.  Some part of me knew that his behavior bordered on inappropriate, but he never got nasty or physical so I said nothing.”  She stopped talking for a few moments and Steve rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand, noticing the faint scars once again.  He said nothing and let her collect her thoughts.  
“After a few casual dates, I decided we would work better as friends and I told him that. We had only kissed a couple of times, nothing serious.  He was disappointed but accepted my decision.  I liked the attention, but I just couldn't ignore the fact that deep down I still hoped for that bond I saw Omegas have with their Alphas, like Will and Jeremiah.  I didn't feel anything romantic for him and I didn't want to try and force it.  I figured that was that and went on enjoying my life.  I loved my little apartment and struck up a friendship with an Omega that moved into the apartment next to mine.  Having another single woman to hang out with was so much fun.  I still saw Will all the time, not just at the shop, but he was newly mated.  But then I started running into that Beta.  It creeped me out, but I pushed those feelings aside and chalked it up to coincidence.  Until I couldn't anymore.  He was everywhere.  
Grocery stores, restaurants, on the street, everywhere.  I constantly felt like I was being watched.  I was paranoid and scared but I thought I was being silly so I said nothing.  Will and Jeremiah began to notice that he kept showing up exactly where I happened to be and told me it was suspicious.  Again, I brushed them off.  He was a nice guy, we were friends, it wasn't a big deal.  And then my heat came.”  Steve realized she had tears in her eyes.  “Rosie checked on me before she was going out on a date, we had been helping each other with our heats.  Making sure the other one was okay, had plenty of food, were staying hydrated…  She brought me some matzo ball soup and orange juice and then left.  I settled in with my heating pad, prepared for a typical night alone. About ten minutes after she left me, there was a knock on my door.  I figured it was her, maybe she forgot something.”  Y/N squeezed Steve's hand.  “It was him.  He slipped in behind a pizza delivery guy.  He waited until he knew Rosie was gone so I would be completely alone.”  She was trembling.  Steve moved his chair closer to her and took both of her hands.  
“It's okay, you don't have to tell me what he did.”  His heart was racing.  
“I tried to fight him off,” she said in a shaky voice.  “I was so weak from my heat.  The scars are faded now, but some days I swear I can still see the gouges he left on my hands like they're still fresh.  He was out of his mind on black market rut hormones.  Told me if I wanted an Alpha he'd give me an Alpha.  He… used me.  He was so angry that he couldn't knot me so he beat me and shoved a fake knot into me af-afterward.  Finally he hit and kicked me so hard I started to cough up blood.  He left me to die.  If Rosie had decided to go back to her date's apartment after her date, I probably would have.  She came back and my door was left open.  She found me barely conscious and called 911.”  When she stopped speaking she was surprised to find herself in Steve's arms.  He rubbed a hand over her back, comforting her.  
“I'm so sorry that happened to you.”  He said in a thick voice.  “Where is he now?”  She didn't miss the way his voice hardened in anger when he asked.  
“They picked him up not too long after the police showed up.  I was lucid enough to tell them who attacked me.”  She swallowed a lump in her throat.  “He hung himself in the holding cell.”  His silence after her answer spoke volumes.  “I was in the hospital for two and a half weeks.  He damn near beat me to death.  Will and Jeremiah barely left my side, and when I told them I was scared to go back to my apartment, they took care of all the arrangements to move me in with them above the shop.”  She reached up and rubbed her arm where the implant was.  “When my next heat hit…  I lost my mind. I was so panicked and terrified I had to be admitted into the hospital and sedated.  When it was done…  A psychiatrist and my doctor came to see me.  We talked about all my options and I decided the implant was the best choice.  The trauma was still too fresh, and the thought of going through another heat at that time… it was unbearable.”  
“I can only imagine what you must have gone through.”  
“You had to know.  Steve,” she pulled away and looked him in the eyes, her face strained.  “For the first time in almost four years, I'm thinking about having it removed, but it's not that simple.”  
“It doesn't need to be.  Do you think I'm going to run away from… this because it's gonna be hard?  You're mine and I'm yours.”
“It isn't just about starting my heats again.”  Her eyes filled with tears.  “There's about an 85% chance that I-I'm sterile.”  She choked out.  Steve felt a slight pang in his heart, but not because of her admission. It changed nothing to him.  
“I hate that I couldn't have found you sooner,” he said sadly.  “That you had to go through any of this.”  
“There's no guarantee that it wouldn't have still happened.  The only person at fault is the person that did this.  Will blamed himself for months, he probably still does.  Some days I still blame myself.” He suddenly pulled completely away from her, looking horrified.  
“I didn't even ask if it was okay to touch you!” Y/N smiled softly and reached out to him.  
“I've always been a touchy-feely person,” she slipped her hands into his. “There was a little while after, it was difficult to want the comfort of contact but still be wary…  I appreciate that you were worried about that, but I don't want you to be afraid to do something.”
“I thought about when we first met, when you left...”  
“It wasn't about the touch, it was-”  she looked away, her face hot. “Remember when I said I was uh, reacting like you were?”  
“Yeah.”
“For about five seconds I wanted to dig the implant out of my arm and, uhhh, do things.”  Steve smirked.  
“Oh really?”  She groaned.  
“Don't get all smug Alpha on me now.  It freaked me out.  I never had an urge that strong before.”  She rolled her eyes when his smirk grew. “You can just cut it out with that face.  At least I didn't smell like a brothel.”  Emboldened, Steve leaned in and breathed in her scent.  
“You liked how I smelled.”  He said teasingly.  
“God help me, but I did.  I do.”  She admitted.  He nuzzled his cheek against hers, restraining himself from full on scenting her.  
“Nothing you told me is going to scare me away.”  He told her.  “I still want to explore this…connection between us.”  
“I do too.”  
“We can take this slow.  Contrary to the way I- ahem- smelled when we met, I am capable of controlling myself.  For the most part.” He said with a wink, and then blushed.
“So, maybe we could go on a real date?”  She asked, her face brightening.  Now that everything was out in the open she felt like a huge weight had been lifted off of her.  Steve pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles.  
“Absolutely. I would be honored to court you, Doll.”  She giggled.  In the back of her mind a small voice told her that they wouldn't have to move slowly for too much longer.
Next
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dregstrash · 5 years
Text
Earning the Present(s) [3/4]
Who says presents have to be given on Christmas? (me, the very late, very sorry fic writer)-- another long one folks
Part 1 || Part 2
Summary: Five years after the events of the Ice Court, the six outcasts were in the prime of their lives. They had everything they had fought and bled for: money, power, promise, home. But this holiday season, a surprisingly altruistic event has them all under the same roof, and they all may have been a little older and a little wiser, but they were still those teenagers who had done the impossible and had almost died countless of times. And when the idea of a holiday gift exchange comes up the true test of their friendship and their growth is thrown into the rink.
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WYLAN
Wylan wasn’t sure how he could have possibly ended up here. Whether or not it was by Ghezen’s Hand or from Inej’s saints, but he was positive that it had to be some sort of cosmic intervention that had led him sitting in front of his fireplace, holding his husband’s hand, and surrounded by thieves and an ex-convict.
“That was quite the celebration, Wylan.” Inej said from her place by the window. “I think Kerch might do some good having an orphanage like that in its streets.”
“Thank you, Inej.” Wylan smiled at her. “Getting it past the Council was tough enough, but I’m just happy to give some of those kids a home.”
Jesper snorted beside him, “Yeah, now there actually might be space at The Slat.”
“How did you get those fat birds to donate to your cause anyhow?” Nina brought up. She was tucked firmly under Matthias’s arm and looked positively comfortable.
Wylan felt a slight blush at the measures he had taken to ensure the Council’s support of such an extravagant building to house the countless of orphans roaming the streets, and he tried his best not to look at Kaz as he said, “Let’s just say the right leverage was applied.”
“Oh saints,” Nina rolled her eyes then turned a lazy finger towards Kaz, “You need to stop corrupting his sweet mind.”
Kaz’s lips twitched, “Van Eck doesn’t need me to corrupt his brain. That’s why he keeps Fahey around.”
“Hey,” Jesper protested, “That’s Mr. Van Eck to you, Brekker.”
Wylan grinned and settled to drink his tea as the argument continued on. He wasn’t particularly proud of asking Ketterdam’s most notorious villain to help to threaten the Kerch Council to make this orphanage happen, but he didn’t regret it either. He would have paid for the construction of the building himself, but the land that he was eyeing for the site was owned by the city. When Wylan had brought up his request, one of his father’s oldest friends (who had held a grudge against Wylan ever since his father received his life sentence in jail) suggested that the land would be best used for other means. 
And before he knew it, Wylan’s plans of the orphanage were starting to fall apart before they had even begun. It wasn’t just the orphanage that had been upsetting him. It was how easily the Council had looked over his request and how the idea of building an estate for the very act of charity was less worthy. Echoes of his father’s voice had resounded in his head, and this startlingly new conviction settled in his chest and one thing led to another and he had found himself sitting awkwardly in front of Kaz Brekker at The Slat stumbling through the situation.
“I’m willing to pay you half of the exported sugar I have coming in this month, if you can help get this off the ground.”
Kaz hadn’t moved throughout the entire exchange. He could have been a statue as Wylan talked and his dark eyes stayed steadily on him. Even when he had finished talking he remained still.
“Does Jesper know you’re here?”
“He does, and he highly discouraged me from coming. Something about getting into bed with a demon.” Wylan had explained.
“At least being married to you finally wised him up,” Kaz murmured before he looked past Wylan and got a familiar, distant expression on his face. “That sugar shipment, it’s coming from Zemini, isn’t it?” He had finally said.
Wylan didn’t bother asking how he knew that, “Yes.”
“The ship it’s on has one of the largest cargo holds in your fleet.” He said again. Wylan nodded. “Hmm...I’ll help if I can take that ship off of your hands for the rest of the year.”
“What are you going to do with it?” Wylan asked raising his eyebrow.
“I have certain business ventures across the sea, that require speed and space.”
“Right.”
“And just so we’re clear, Wylan. You’re asking me to convince certain members of the merchant council to approve your plans for this orphanage? Through any means necessary?”
“Yes.” Wylan cleared his throat, “It’s a good plan and this city could deal with at least some kindness. Even if it comes through the Bastard of the Barrel himself.”
Kaz’s sharp smile caught Wylan off guard.
 “Then the deals the deal, merchling.” He held out his gloved hand and Wylan shook it firmly. “Wait a couple weeks and suggest the plan again. You’ll probably be able to start construction soon after that.”
And true to his word, Wylan went back to the council and no sooner had he finished did they approve the plans and even called it Ghezen’s work that an orphanage should be built to educate those who had nothing. Jesper had scoffed at the reasoning, but was just as excited as his husband when Wylan drew up blue prints, started to hire crew members, and then ultimately its grand opening.
Jesper had been by Wylan’s side through it all. He helped with some of the ground work, supervised when Wylan was away taking care of his mother, and calmed him when the ever-present self-doubt started to creep back in his mind. After the Ice Court job, it had seemed almost like a dream for someone like Jesper to stick around to Wylan, but there he was. Then his tall, Zemeni, thrill-addict boyfriend had really thrown him for an absolute loop when they had gone out to dinner on their backyard and he had gone down on one knee. It was all impossible, but then Wylan said yes and the impossible became possible. And with this orphanage now open, even that had become possible.
For that reason, he supposed it wasn’t that impossible to have all of the people that had survived the most dangerous heist ever to be conceived by anyone to be sitting around the fire ready to open presents.
“Okay,” Nina announced finally, “Me first. So as tradition dictates. Whoever picked first has to give the present first. If I remember correctly, Matthias picked a name. Okay, my dear Fjerdan, who’d you have?”
“Uh,” Matthias said hesitantly. He pulled out a long, rectangular box from behind him and kept his eyes on the present. “I-uh-I didn’t know what else to get you, um, Inej.” The girl in question raised her eyebrows in surprise and stood up from the window, “But, I hope you find it suitable.”
Inej walked over and opened the box slowly. Wylan watched as Inej smiled gratefully as she pulled out a beautiful double-edged knife with a white marble handle.
“It’s of Fjerdan make,” Matthias explained his face flushing, “The inscription is from-uh- Fjerdan saint and uh-”
“Thank you,” Inej interrupted and further surprised the bulky man with a hug.
Matthias smiled in relief and returned the gesture.
“Splendid, Jesper you’re next.” Nina said.
“Ah, finally,” Jesper grinned widely as he separated his hand from Wylan’s. He dug around in his pants pocket and produced two small boxes. Wylan recognized the smile that was lighting up his face and he felt his insides swirl at whatever his husband had decided to gift their friend.
“Now, dearest Nina, since you only deserve the best. I hope these will suffice.” He tossed both boxes at her and she caught them deftly, “Though, I think one of those might actually be for Helvar.”
Curious, Nina opened the first box and positively giggled as she held up a scrap of black lace lined with a blood red border. If Matthias’s face was red before, it was practically boiling now. Even Wylan felt a slight blush creep around his neck.
“Ah, Jes, you shouldn’t have.” She held out the undergarments out for everyone to see and slyly glanced at her Fjerdan, “Think of all the things we could do with this, sweet.”
Matthias looked away fast and everyone laughed at his reaction.
Still giggling Nina unwrapped Jesper’s second present and the smile that settled on her face was far more genuine and real than Wylan had ever seen on her. “Jesper Llewelyn, how did you get this?”
Nina held up a thin chain up from the box and revealed a beautiful sun charm. It glinted against the fire light warmly, and had a clear jewel in the middle. 
Jesper shrugged, “I was in Little Ravka in the other day, and I happened to befriend a very talented Fabrikator. He insists it’s the purest form of gold out there.”
“Thank you,” Nina said.
“You’re welcome,” Jesper smiled back.
Wylan couldn’t help but reach back for his hand. It was so rare to see him this comfortable with anyone else or with any other group of people. He was never comfortable with any of the men that Wylan did business with and all of Jesper’s other friends lived far too close to the gambling halls. So to see him so happy made Wylan’s heart flutter in his chest.
The night went on and with each unwrapping came a surprised shock of actually receiving a perfect gift. Inej gave Jesper finely crafted holsters for his guns. Nina gave Wylan a Grisha made flute, that Jesper insisted he played for everyone. He obliged and marveled at the artistry of the instrument and the clear and pure notes that emanated from it. Then came for Kaz to give his gift and Wylan couldn’t deny the sudden shift of mood as they all waited for Kaz to come back from wherever he went to fetch his gift.
“Alright, Helvar,” Kaz reentered the room with a hefty box under his arm, “This was hell to try to get, but try not to kill it.”
He all but shoved the box at Matthias’s lap and went back to his seat by the fire. The other boy looked curiously at the plain box curiously.
Matthias’s furrowed brow quickly rose up as whatever in the box made a loud bark. Nina peered in and her mouth dropped in an almost comical O shape.
“How-what-I-” Matthias stammered as he lifted a gray and white pup out of the container.
Wylan gaped at the small creature that was now sniffing at Matthias curiously and even dared to nibble at the giant’s thumb. It let out a small whimper before Nina instinctively stroked it behind its ears. 
“He is adorable! Look at him!” She squealed.
Kaz shrugged, “I did a favor for a Fjerdan a while back, and I had a pack delivered to me for security reasons. As it happens, I had a litter of these runts running around and I kept a couple before getting rid of the rest.”
“By ‘getting rid’ do you mean a quick trip down the canal?” Jesper said hesitantly.
“Ugh,” Nina shivered, not taking her eyes off the dog, “Please don’t answer that, Brekker, I don’t want to hear the truth or the potential lie.”
Kaz’s lip twitched, but he stayed silent.
Matthias’s bewildered blue gaze met Kaz for a moment before he stammered out a quick, “Thank you, demji.”
A bemused expression settled in Kaz’s eyes before he saluted him in acknowledgement. 
The puppy was yawning and Wylan could have laughed at the sight of such a small thing nestled in Matthias’s large hand. And if Wylan was completely honest with himself, he could have laughed at the fact that Kaz had even thought of being so considerate. That he went out of his way to think of something Matthias would actually want-- that his gift was so small, fluffy, and....wholesome. 
“What are you going to name him?” Wylan asked finally.
Matthais looked down at the animal and nuzzled his face with its snout, “I’m going to name him Trassel....after a good friend of mine.”
Nina peered into the blue and black eyes of the puppy, and cooed to it, “Hi, Trassel. Welcome to the family.”
The dog barked cheerfully at that and settled to rubbing his face against Matthias’s hand.
After a few moments all eyes turned towards Wylan who had yet to give his present.
“Ah, right,” He said, suddenly feeling nervous. He got up from his seat and went behind the curtain to retrieve the long rectangular box. His stomach fluttered with anxiety as he made his way back to the circle of his friends. It wasn’t so much the giving of the present, but knowing what the recipient might do with the gift gave him a slight pause. But as he neared Kaz, he shrugged away the discomfort. 
“Here you go, Kaz, hopefully it’ll serve as a good backup.” 
Kaz took the box hesitantly, and ripped open the box. Wylan held his breath as he delicately lifted a cane. The handle was shaped like a crow about to take flight, and its dark-wood finely engraved with jagged lines, and its tip tapered into a fine point. 
“It’s-” Wylan started to explain in the midst of Kaz’s silence, “It’s Grisha made so it shouldn’t break when there’s a substantial amount of force applied. And- if you twist the handle-”
Before Wylan finished the thought, Kaz twisted the handle and the pointed end of the cane opened up and the neutral expression Kaz had kept on his face disappeared. He smiled as he examined the turned cane and the new opening of the cane.
“You made me a gun.” There was a slight hint of a laugh in his voice. 
“Wylan, my dear,” Jesper said looking amused and concerned all at once, “Did you just give the most deadly man in the barrel a weapon that is not only as strong as his current cane, but also a gun?”
He shrugged and tried to fight the smugness working its way in his chest at Kaz’s reaction to his gift. He had his own reservations when he had come up with the plans as soon as he knew who he had gotten for this secret gift exchange. Wylan had debated about it for a full day before he had drawn up the plans and then set up a meeting with Ketterdam’s few Fabrikators. There were always going to be monsters in Ketterdam, those with longer and sharper teeth, and he supposed it wouldn’t hurt having one of those monsters as an ally and providing him with one more tooth.
“Well, Wylan,” Kaz’s grin was the widest he’s ever seen on him, “I will say, you never cease to surprise me.”
He twisted the handle restoring the cane to its proper form. 
At this Wylan did smile at Kaz. That was the closest thing to a compliment he’s given him in recent years and even if he had stopped working with the Dregs, there was still a small part of Wylan that couldn’t forget about his past. That feeling of doing a job well done or even earning a place in Kaz’s crew. 
And as the night continued on, with people playing with their presents in anyway they could, whether that be taking turns holding Trassel or making Wylan play or Nina offering to teach them some Ravkan games, Wylan couldn’t help but marvel at the warmth and radiating from the people around him. And when he noticed that Kaz had managed to slip away quietly, he decided that they needed this-- all of them. 
The crew who broke into the Ice Court, brought down a member of the Merchant Council, conned multiple countries, and fabricated their own plague, needed a chance to feel like the world wasn’t always escaping the past or fighting for their future. That for once they could sit around a fire with warm drinks in their bellies and live in the present.
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Tags:  @krugerevengeinej @orangesnakesanddogs @i-hate-usernames45 @qrow-ismyspiritanimal @fangirl-ladybug @wraithpirate  @the-jennster @lagabygaby @rynli @noirmagic1 @shiyash @readmeaway @razz-dazzle-taz @queenofthebarrel @irepostthingsilike @irepostthingsilike @i-just-want-to-have-a-fun-time @smittenthing @highladyofthefoodcourt @emilily101 @sourbishop @nerd-in-a-galaxy-far-away @alexbeatthebass @writtenwordheart @icefire0722 @ladyofvroses @bbenwyatt @zxyjxy @burnin-through-the-sky @thewoofster @daniellepal @goodie-giving-gecko-gets-gatos @bree-the-sloth @universallyghostjudgecalzone @thecrownedcupcake17 @kayleed77 @kanejandkruge
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Note
For the royalty starter, NaruSasu “I’ll fight for you” + “I’ll never look at another” and “I don’t care if our nations are at war” you can use one or more, I don’t really mind :) thank you
(OH MY GOD I AM SO MEAN FOR NOT ANSWERING THIS RIGHT AWAY!! I am so sorry!! I hope you like the fic! I finished this before bed UGU~
Edit: I might make a sequel if people like this enough. I have a lot of shit that could go down c; )
Their secret hiding place deep into the woods had never been breached. With fighting countries constantly in the middle of war between and on the borders, Naruto had been honestly surprised to see the old house still lit up and safe on the outside, half expecting it to be torn down and demolished by angry or drunk soldiers, or even made into a hide out. The house may have been in the middle of nowhere, but it would have been perfect for a base to take out anyone trying to pass into the land of fire without grounds or proper paperwork. Then again, Naruto considered it lucky that the old house was still there and not taken over by his country’s military – it would have meant that they would have caught Sasuke coming in, and Naruto wasn’t prepared to let him into harm’s way that easily.  
He trudged forward in the snow and made it past the dead raspberry bushes to get to the window. He was now tall enough to not have to stand on his tip toes to see into the abandoned house, and he was glad. The view he had right away was enough to make his heart beat fast and he burst into a smile. With short raven hair softly styled up into spikes and soft ivory skin, the young man his best friend had become busied himself inside the old house and Naruto felt his heart swell with joy at seeing his best friend, the man he could never introduce to his other friends or anyone he loved. The minute he would talk about Sasuke and confess that the boy he spent his years getting to know and growing up with was from the Sound country, they would only view him as a monster. The enemy.
Maybe one day he would be, but today would not be that day.
Uchiha Sasuke, the son of a well-known chief of police in the Sound country, had been Uzumaki Naruto’s best friend since they were about ten years old.  The way they had met was unorthodox in theory, but it had happened all the same. No one would believe that two boys from opposite and opposing countries would become fast friends by meeting in the middle of the thick and dark woods, but they had. Naruto, having become a recent orphan, had needed to get away to find ways to cope the loss of his father, one of the Fire country’s top military officers, and he chose to find solace and peace in the woods. Little did he know, Sasuke also needed to get away, having been one of the Sound country’s most eligible young bachelors, currently in the process of being found a wife to marry. The young boy had been so stressed by his family’s pushing and insistence in being the best future husband and young man to a beautiful young woman that he decided to run. He almost totally ran away, but had stopped at the old house in the woods where Naruto had been hiding out.
Two paths collide, creating an irreplaceable friendship.
For years they would meet up, summers were spent swimming in the creek, winters went without word for months, the land too cold for them both to trek to see the other. They had planned days out of months out of years to meet up and spend time and while they were away or particularly missed the other’s company, they would end up at the old house and leave notes for the other to find, sometimes gifts and promises. As they grew older, the trips were well planned and the activities fit their need to show off and involved friendly competitions. Naruto swore that he would get better at running and Sasuke promised that he would become better at fishing, both boys having their goals to show the other who was top dog.
When the year of their fifteenth birthdays came around, their plans had become interrupted and Naruto was sent away for military training. It had been his father’s wish, and the heads of state made sure it was carried out. Naruto was lucky that he had time to leave a letter for Sasuke and tell him of his departure with a heartfelt apology. He didn’t know when (or if) he would return, but he promised that in case anything bad happened to him that Sasuke would be the first to know. He would hate to have never said goodbye to his best friend, so he survived a grueling training regimen and his first handful of battles. It was hard to believe that four years had passed before his eyes, not one day passing that he didn’t think of his best friend.
He was lucky that a couple of months before he came home, he was able to leave a note with a date for Sasuke in the old house. He was resting with his squad a couple of miles away and he left in the dead of night to leave the envelope in its usual place, hoping Sasuke would visit in time to get the message and meet him there, unharmed and safe.
It was what made Naruto smile when he approached the house, his breath fogging the window in the cold midnight air. He had begun to snow as he stood outside, watching Sasuke light a fire in the old fireplace, music from the old record player sounding softly from inside. Naruto was quick to push back his hair from his face and head to the door. The threat of someone else showing up while either one was alone in the house had always scared them both. Once they had become older and wiser, they knew that the war would never let up and that there might be someone who would be out to hurt them come their way. They invented a secret knock to signal the other that it was them, and Naruto tapped his own personal one onto the old and rotting door, looking into the window. He fought back a laugh as Sasuke jumped at the sound, startled, but he also saw the smile on his face as Sasuke realized it was him, immediately moving from his place on the floor to get the locked door open for him. The smell of the food cooking immediately hit Naruto and he couldn’t control the swell in his chest at how happy he was to see Sasuke again.
“Hey,” He grinned and stepped inside, dropping his hiking pack to the ground. Naruto barely got a chance to take off his shoes next before Sasuke pulled him in and hugged him tightly, the blond taking a minute to gasp at the strong hold he had on him before laughing and hugging him back. “Sasuke! I knew you missed me~”
That got the older to pull away and shove a finger in his face. “Shut up, idiot. Can’t I just be glad you are alive before you mock me?” He hissed a bit but Naruto came back in for a hug, making Sasuke melt into a smile instead of his sneer.  “So, what if I missed you? I was more worried you were going to get yourself killed because you’re so reckless.”
Naruto just pulled away after squeezing him and took a moment to look into his blue eyes. He felt his heart speed up at how beautiful they were, never remembering them to be that deep and comforting before. He pulled away a little further as he realized he was looking down at Sasuke and he moved his hand from the crown of his own head to hover above Sasuke. He laughed once. “I’m taller than you! By almost a good three inches!” The look on Sasuke’s face made Naruto feel victorious as Sasuke stepped back to see what he had said was true. “I finally beat you at something, asshole!”
Sasuke sputtered a bit before hitting him a bit with a closed fist to his shoulder. “Shut up. I got my mother’s height. I am still five foot eight! That is still decent.”
“I can’t believe I am taller than you,” Naruto mocked him and puffed out his chest before Sasuke hit it and made him cough. “Sore loser,” he groaned and Sasuke just rolled his eyes.  
“How about you come in and shut the door so you can eat. You are letting out all the warmth.” He scolded and pushed him inside, the both of them locking the doors and windows and shutting the curtains.  
Naruto stripped down to his long johns and sat sprawled out by the fire, warming his big, clean feet, toes wiggling in happiness. The blond watched as his friend sliced up the homemade bread and started to serve up soup in the bowls left behind from all those years ago. He took the food with a soft thank you and smile to Sasuke. He almost took a bite of the soup before grimacing and looking to his friend. “You aren’t trying to poison me, yeah?”
Sasuke glared at him. “Eat it and find out.” He took a bite with some sausage and rice and chewed before speaking again. “My mother taught me how to cook. Just eat before it gets cold.”
Naruto snorted in response and took a bite of some of the best soup he had ever tasted. He dipped the perfect slice of bread in the broth and swore he went to heaven. Both young men ate up quite ravenously before they slowed down enough to start talking and catching up. It was so hard to do after being apart for nearly five years, not remembering where you left off or if the person in front of you has changed to not meet your interests any more. Luckily, it was Sasuke who started and not Naruto.
“So… the military.” He began. “At least you get to travel.”
Naruto looked at him for a good moment before shrugging and sipping at his broth. “It’s alright.” He didn’t break eye contact. “I’ve been nearly everywhere by now. So… I guess it is nothing new.”
Sasuke just nodded at that. “…Do you like it?”
Naruto shook his head. “No.” Sasuke nodded in understanding before it was Naruto’s turn to ask a question. “What about you…? Your dad got you into the police force?”
Sasuke nodded. “Yeah. Just like Itachi.”
“And you like it?” Naruto was hopeful.
“Nope.”
Silence fell between the two again and Naruto could see that Sasuke was a little uncomfortable. He figured that it was probably because he was still in a nice button up and slacks, looking as if he had just come from a fancy dinner party, but he knew it wasn’t the case. Naruto had been pretty dense, but if one thing his job had taught him was how to read people. “…Sorry to hear about that, S’suke.” He put down his bowl and rested his chin on his knees, looking up at Sasuke as he sat on his legs in a proper fashion, hands on his knees. “…Relax, dude. I’m not going to bite you.” He teased with a laugh but Sasuke just rolled his eyes and sat on his bottom with his legs crossed. His back was still straight. He had always been so proper but Naruto wished it wasn’t default for him.  
“It’s not that being in the force isn’t my dream. It still is,” Sasuke began but looked away from Naruto to think. “I just…It’s all coming to me so fast.”
Naruto perked up a bit. “What is?” He asked and Sasuke looked back at him.
“Everything.”
Naruto blinked and waited for Sasuke to elaborate, but when it didn’t come, he groaned aloud. “Stop being so cryptic. What are you talking about?”
Sasuke rolled his eyes and moved to stand, taking Naruto’s bowl to put in the wash basin. “Everything, Naruto, I am talking about everything.” He turned and went to pump the water, the cold freezing Sasuke’s hands as he worked, but the faster he moved, the less it would be. Naruto listened as Sasuke found his words, pausing before he started to dry the bowls. Narutou could tell that he was troubled and that something was wrong by the way he worked on the dishes and spoke. Normally, when he ranted, he liked to sit and occupy his mind with that one thought so he could sort out his feelings, but this was different. He was hiding something, definitely.  
Then he spoke again. “…My mother never taught me how to dance.”
Naruto tried to keep back a laugh but he couldn’t contain the single snort that came out of his nose in reply before Sasuke turned to give him a dirty look. “W…What? I’m sorry, ‘suke. You really got me going for a minute! I thought it was serious.”
Sasuke turned to face him before stalking over to him to push him. “Shut up! It is serious.”
“I meant, life threateningly serious!” He giggled and shook his head. “Well…anyway, I can teach you how to dance!”
Sasuke was quiet for a moment as he stared at the blond and Naruto crossed his arms in response. “…What if I don’t want to dance? I don’t want her to fall in love with me or something. I would rather her hate me and never woo her.”
Naruto smiled and sat up, his arms falling to his sides as he. “Well, that is nice… but you should still learn! I don’t know a girl who doesn’t like to dance.” He purred a bit and Sasuke gave him a look. Naruto stopped and gave him a look back. “What? It’s true.”
Sasuke rolled his eyes. He looked to the floor by Naruto and moved to rub his forehead, silent for another moment, thinking. “…I don’t know what to do, Naruto. I feel like if I do this…I will never get to be…me again.”
Naruto rose an eyebrow. “Dancing.”
Sasuke looked back to him and wrapped his arms around himself. “…Marriage.”
The blond felt that on a personal level. He knew who Uchiha Sasuke was and he knew that he was focused, driven, smart, and genuine when he wanted to be. He hated how he would never let up when it came to small competitions, but it was a part of Sasuke that he had missed and yearned for. He didn’t know what about Sasuke marrying would make him lose a part of himself. Maybe it was something he had missed, but what he knew for sure was that Sasuke was worried. He did what he knew how to do and he stood up, shaking his arms and lolling his head to each side. “Not gonna happen, you asshole.” He stood up straight and rose one hand and put another outward, caging his chest. “Come here.”
Sasuke watched him as if he were crazy and snorted a bit before crossing his arms across his chest. “…What are you doing?”
“I am teaching you to dance. Come here,” Naruto told him seriously. He took a step closer and Sasuke moved a step back. Naruto lowered his arms and groaned. “What? You don’t trust me, Sa-su-ke?”
Sasuke shook his head. “Not really. You need to respect my wishes.” He sneered, but decided to bite. “Where did you learn to dance where you can teach me?”
Naruto put his hands on his hips. “I actually have experience with ladies, pardon me.” He snorted. “We had enough down time to go to the bars and meet some pretty girls while we were travelling. I got to dance with this lovely girl and she showed me all the steps.” Sasuke still didn’t look convinced but Naruto put his hands where they had been positioned. “Just let me show you. If you get uncomfortable, we can always stop.”
Sasuke watched him a bit as he moved forward and slapped at Naruto’s arm that sat in front of his chest. “What part of ‘maybe she will hate me’ didn’t you get?” He asked. “I don’t want to dance.”
Naruto looked down into his eyes and pursed his lips as Sasuke met his gaze, two shades of blue colliding in a beautiful way. The blond could not deny how his heart tugged even more, looking at him and seeing how much he had matured. The words came from his lips before he could stop them, but he knew this was what he had wanted. He had been no stranger from the kindness and warmth of other young men in his squad, and he knew that there was something about Sasuke that wouldn’t say no, not because of pressure, but because of how well they knew each other. “Then dance with only me.”
Naruto had half expected Sasuke to refuse, but when the older boy took a step closer and looked down to their hands, the blond knew what to do. They had done everything together and learned so much that doing this together was really a no brainer. There were no problems with two young men learning something like this with the person they trusted most in the world, so Naruto was glad that Sasuke gave in. They gasped hands and slowly, Naruto moved Sasuke’s left hand to his shoulder, placing his own hand at the shorter’s waist. They were lucky that the song on the record player had just started so they could go by the steps properly.
“Okay,” Naruto began and took a deep breath. “…I am going to step forward with my left foot. Then you step back with your right. Then, we will bring our other feet up and over to the right, and continue dancing that way,” he explained. “So, one will be the step, two will be the glide, and three will be opposite foot step. Got it?”  
Sasuke didn’t break eye contact the entire time and he was slow to nod but quick to understand. “Yeah…I think so.” He nodded and looked down to their feet for a moment. Naruto moved his hand from his waist to point Sasuke’s face back up to him.
“Don’t look at your feet. Trust me. Feel the music and look into my eyes.”  
And that was what Sasuke did the whole dance through, only messing up twice and causing one or both of them to step on each other’s feet. The rest of the dance was so smooth and slow that it was so easy to get lost in each other, Naruto closing his eyes and just feeling Sasuke press his cheek against his, the both of them calm and slowing down into a more intimate and gentle sway. The blond felt as if he were in absolute heaven and he hoped Sasuke had felt the same. It was times like these that made him realize what he held in his arms was so precious, remembering all the times Sasuke cried in his arms or the times that Naruto had become emotional and Sasuke was right there to calm him down.
It also made him remember that Sasuke was part of a country that hated his country.  
Naruto knew better that they were still just kids in this crazy, messed up situation, and he was happy he had found a friend like Uchiha Sasuke to make the days easy, the nights less painful. It almost made him cry as he thought about having to leave Sasuke again, the fact that there might be a day that he will never see him again because of the war – and it hurt.
Once the song stopped and another started to play, the record grainy and spotty, but they didn’t care. Neither of them stopped swaying and Naruto had felt so comfortable so close to Sasuke. They had never shared a moment like this in their maturity, and Naruto knew there would be no going back. “…Sasuke.” He murmured, lips close to his ear. He didn’t feel a shudder, but he knew Sasuke felt what he desired in that moment. “…No matter who you marry…or what side you choose to be on in this war…” He began and pulled away to look into his eyes. Sasuke didn’t care for the distance between them and brought their foreheads close together so they could stay connected. “I want you to only dance with me.”
Sasuke was silent as Naruto spoke but he pulled away after a moment. “…Naruto…Don’t.” He shook his head and the blond took a step closer before Sasuke took another step back. “…Don’t tell me shit like that, okay?” His eyes were pleading and scared. It was rare that Sasuke had cried in their childhood, but the look on his face right that instant was one that made Naruto’s heart clench and his lips purse in worry. There was a gleam in his eyes that hadn’t been caused by lighting and it scared him. He had never really seen these tears of fear and uncertainty, but they were there, present in Sasuke’s eyes and threatening to kiss his cheeks.  
Naruto wished he was going to kiss those cheeks.
In a swift movement, Naruto took the step closer to close their gap and he wrapped his arms comforting around his best friend. He knew that there was something he wasn’t telling him and while it scared him, he felt safety in Sasuke’s arms and he genuinely believed that he was helping to ease his feelings of dread regarding the unknown. He could feel it as Sasuke wrapped his arms around him and sniffled softly, wetting he collarbone and keeping his mouth closed to not let out a sad little whimper. Naruto’s heart was breaking, but he stayed strong for Sasuke. He was happy to be his rock.
Without thinking, he pressed the softest of kisses to Sasuke’s ear and he whispered. “I don’t care if our countries are at war. I will fight for you…for your happiness. It is the least I can do for being given so many wonderful years with you.”
That promise changed them forever.
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dayjobdracula · 6 years
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Spider Eggs
Disclaimer: I wasn’t going to come back to post-MS IV, but I wound up having absolutely nothing to do today, and I needed to write something in between my typical Will-angst and the utter fluff I’ve been reading. Ergo, another weird MSR vignette.
Rating: PG-13
Timeline: Post MS-IV (Yep. Still in this universe.)
Summary: Scully shares her pregnancy with a spider and her eggs, in a strange but fitting friendship.
Tagging @today-in-fic.
The wood pile rotting in their backyard plays host to a society of the Virginia suburbs’ most unwanted. Mulder likes to think they chose this house on purpose, the old-but-still-kicking home of FBI rejects and the sometimes-home of a superhero who doesn’t want to be. Three people whom even death turned away.
Scully lets a raccoon scuffle about as long as it stays away from the house. She tolerates garter snakes and even the stag that munches on their garden. But it’s the black widow spider, tucked into a shadowy corner of the wood pile that fascinates her. She keeps her distance—she’s isn’t stupid—but she watches it craft an immaculate mess of a web. A perfectly disordered home.
One evening in July, the egg sac takes her by surprise. A tight little ball of twine nestled in the corner of the web. Always polite, Scully offers her congratulations.
She’s pretty sure that one typically shares one’s pregnancy with other women—women from mommy blogs and well-timed doctors’ appointments, not a venomous spider she found in the backyard. She has also stopped caring what people typically do—a side effect of twenty-five years with Fox ‘Spooky’ Mulder and of being at least fifteen years older than the couples they see in the obstetrician’s waiting room.
Scully bears her heart to the eight-legged companion. It makes sense, somehow. She carries a cocktail of emotions that only a spider would understand—dancing on fragile strings, catching meals on the fly. Like a spider, she hunts and is hunted her entire life. It’s a wonder she and Mulder were never squished under an old man’s combat boot. It’s a wonder he never crushed their bodies with a dead cigarette and left them dismembered on a grocery store sidewalk for some child to gawk at, scarlet hourglass shining flat on the asphalt.
When Melissa was ten years old, a black widow bit her arm while she was playing in the holly bushes, and Ahab rushed her to the emergency room. They pumped her full of an antidote and sent her home, promising that after a few days of nausea and low fever, she would be fine. For such an infamous creature, the black widow’s attack was strangely underwhelming.
Scully overlooks the crack between two decrepit boards where the spider has built its family. She sips an extra-large lemonate from the gas station down the street. She resents how awkwardly she moves through the tall grass, keys in one hand and soda in the other, her still-small baby bump cumbersome even now. In the isolation of their middle-of-nowhere home, she wants to be vocally proud of her unborn child, and she wants someone to listen.
“Hey, Missy,” she says, stopping ten feet from the spider and her eggs. At first, she wondered if it was inappropriate to name it Missy, but this is how she honors her sister because if Missy were here, she would share share in this strange experience. If Missy were to be reincarnated, she would love to come back as a spider.
The spider crawls lazily into the light, teetering on the upper strand of its web. There it stills. Its hourglass glints in the sun.
“We haven’t spoken since the twenty week appointment,” Scully begins to ramble. “It’s a healthy baby, but with my age and my medical history I’m afraid to be optimistic. Will came by the other day, and he seems excited by the prospect of a baby sister. I think it makes him hopeful, and every time he smiles, the guilt wears off a little bit. It’s strange and awkward with him. It’s strange and awkward to be pregnant again. Everything is awkward, but I’m getting used to it.”
Today is the first day she’s stopped feeling as though her life is a haunted house, an endless stretch of waiting for something awful to jump out at you. To spin around and find a horrifying creature chasing you with a chainsaw like a fucking Halloween movie.
Mulder helps. He looks at her like she netted the moon and hung it over his bed. He touches her gingerly, with unadulterated amazement, as if she rode into his life in a UFO and her body is made of gypsy moths, fleeting and velvet-soft. Like the moths beneath their porch light, she is bordering on clumsily large, although in coming months she’ll not so much flutter as waddle.
The spider retreats back into its web and crouches over its egg sac. Scully envies its slow grace. She hopes she remains as elegant as Missy, as quietly confident in her ability to protect her children from harm. Scully likes to think she has a dangerous bite, deadly to anyone who tries to hurt her son or her unborn daughter. She has bitten like Missy in the past, with her firearm. Too many times, she’s had to bite.
She tells Missy, “I hope your family is healthy. You chose a nice home; any closer to the house and we might have to relocate you. I don’t think your babies would like ours very much.” She chuckles softly and dares to touch the curve of her abdomen. Dares to believe she’ll have a baby and not a tragedy. Sometimes, it hurts too much to be skeptical.
She wishes Missy a happy evening and goes inside.
Autumn arrives, and with it the spider’s inexorable death. She didn’t really consider this part. The part where befriending a spider would inevitably end in her standing teary-eyed before the empty web and it’s stiff exoskeleton hourglass-up in the grass. She is a scientist. She’s read Charlotte’s Web. She knows how these things go. That doesn’t stop her overflowing hormones or the stupid tendency of humans to anthropomorphize everything they speak to.
Standing next to her, Mulder pulls her into a hug. “I’m sorry, Scully. I didn’t know she was that important to you.”
“I didn’t either,” Scully sniffs. She allows herself a weepy laugh. “I feel silly.”
“No,” Mulder tilts her chin and kisses her. “Never silly.”
She wipes the corners of her eyes. “It’s hormones.”
“Scully,” he says, “you’re allowed to be sad over a spider. It doesn’t invalidate your grief for bigger tragedies.”
“I know…” Scully trails off. “It’s irrational, but I hoped she would live until the baby was born.” Mother to mother, creature to creature on this unforgiving planet. She took comfort in watching the egg sac bloom, the lives within it healthy and strong. Her own stomach rounded in time with the knot of spider silk. For each day the spider eggs grew, she let herself hope that something so small would survive here, in the fragile ruins of a human structure. If the spider could do it so could she, and oh, how fragile she felt. She had forgotten how small her frame had always been, how spare and wiry. She only got tougher with age.
“Scully?”
She looks up to Mulder’s concerned eyes. “Hmm?”
“Are you ready to go inside?”
It’s code for I love you. Everything is. The way he grills sandwiches in his boxers, the way he inhales the blueberry scent of her shampoo after they shower, the way he plays eighties rock so quietly it sounds like a waltz and dances her around their living room. She sees it in the way he makes love to her at sunrise, the way he rolls up her nightshirt when he thinks she’s asleep and presses his cheek to her belly, the way he worships her body as if everything and nothing has changed.
“Yes. Let’s go in,” she agrees. She clings to the smell of him—fresh grass and sawdust and the coffee she can’t drink—and together, they go inside. Before she closes the door, Scully whispers a brief, “thank you,” to Missy the poisonous spider, for the odd comforts she provided. And odd friendship was what she needed, to match the oddness blossoming in every other facet of her life.
Outside, the breeze ruffles Missy’s empty web, twitches the corpse’s legs. The trees bend; the forest churns and hums with living creatures. Insects mate and die. Life finds a way. A tiny black spider takes shelter in a knot of wood.
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Tempting Fate [4] || TMR AU
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Author’s note: This chapter just gives more depth to two very important characters and it also is just building up for the next couple of chapters!
part one || part two || part three || part four:
Your shoes clicked against the marble floor, your pace almost perfectly matching your heartbeat. As you walked across the seemingly never-ending hallway, you observed the pillars of white stone that were absent of the decorations from yesterday’s ball.
Nothing ever got dirty. You don’t even remember the last time you had actually seen dust in the castle He had never seen dust in his seventeen years of life.
Now that you knew your time was limited in the castle, you tried to take in your atmosphere. Even though you had been living in the castle for most of your life, you hardly noticed the gold border that was painted along the ceiling. You inhaled deeply and picked up on how it smelled deeply of fresh flowers- yet you never saw a flower die or wilt.
The events of last night replayed in your head, the look of sorrow that flashed briefly across the king’s face and how Thomas had acted so natural with the idea of the two of you marrying each other.
You also remembered the friendship you had gained yesterday with Newt. You loved Minho and Brenda, but for the first time in your life, you finally had met someone who wasn’t assigned to you because you were the princess. It gave you a sense of hope, that you still had at least some say in who you would surround yourself with.
A guard posted near the south entrance of the palace opened up the door for you, which led to the same garden’s from the night before. You stepped through and made your way to the fountains where Prince Thomas was waiting for you.
The lunch was more meant as a royal gesture than a romantic one. The engaged couple would usually talk about politics and how each would reign over a very fancy meal in the dining hall. However, Prince Thomas’s official had informed you that this lunch “meeting” would take place outside in the gardens.
You had passed by the bench from where you and Newt had sat last night, but paid no attention to it. You had imagined the basic image of this “picnic” -  the red and white checkered blanket with small little sandwiches on the side.
However, you were surprised to see a red velvet sheet with candles lit around the edges and huge silver platters of fruit, desserts and to your amusement- small sandwiches.
The candles were a bit pretentious since it was the middle of the afternoon and it wasn’t like the candles gave off much scent but you figured it was his attempt at a romantic ambiance.
“ Princess, I’m very honored that you accepted my invitation to join me today,” You quickly turned around and there stood Prince Thomas, with a bouquet of flowers in his hands.
“ Oh! Flowers! ”You didn’t address accepting his invitation since you had no choice but to be here,” that’s really sweet Thomas. You didn’t have to do that.”
Thomas smiled sweetly and shrugged,” I know, but I wanted to. This is actually a peace offering from yesterday...I’m sorry about that- really. I had no idea that you didn’t know about the marriage.”
You accepted his flowers and sighed,” No, don’t apologize. It’s not your fault I was just..shocked. I should be the one apologizing to you, it was rude of me to run off like that.”
Thomas bit his lip and looked over to the picnic set up,”Tell you what, let’s get through this very awkward picnic without talking about marriage and then I’ll decide whether or not I accept your apology.”
“ Of course, we should probably get more wine if we want to get through this,” You teased as the two of you sat down on the blanket.
“ Wait, in front of a church?” You giggled as Thomas shook his head, his cheeks growing pink.
“A very popular church yes,” Thomas laughed as he poured himself another glass of wine,” I didn’t have any clothes, not even my crown to cover up. I was forced to run across the field covering as much as myself possible before the service ended.”
You shook your head in disbelief,” You poor soul. Losing your clothes and your dignity all in the same day.”
The two of you shared a laugh and you were slowing getting over the engagement in general. Thomas wasn’t as boring as you thought, in fact, quite the opposite. He had been well groomed to be a prince but he still participated in rash, even reckless things from time to time.
The lunch was only supposed to be an hour, maybe two at the most but the two of you sat side by side, laughing and talking for almost four hours. He was the type of person to tell stories for hours and not once did you ever feel bored.
“ I know we promised that we wouldn’t talk about the whole marriage thing but I just want to know your opinion on a few things,” Thomas sighed as you dropped your gaze down to your glass, swirling the remaining liquid around the cup.
It was something the two of you couldn’t avoid. You were both royals who were forced into taking the crown one way or another. It was a strong possibility that you felt comfortable around him because you could relate to him- that or it was the wine.
“ Opinion on?”
Thomas shrugged and thought for a moment,” Let's say that the country is in mortal danger, how far will you go to protect the ones you love?”
Your mind wandered to the king, Brenda and Minho,” I’d risk my life for them. I’d give up my crown for their happiness and well being.”
“ I agree completely, but what about when we rule? When you’re queen..would you give up innocent lives in the village so that way the ones you loved will live?” Thomas asked thoughtfully.
You never had to think about how differently you would rule as a princess versus as a Queen. To be a Queen, you had to think about the greater good of your country and anything to stay in power. You didn’t care about the power now, but you did care about innocent lives being lost.
“ Well, when I’m Queen, I hope I never have to make that decision,” You decided on as Thomas took in a deep breath,” what about you? Would you sacrifice your loved ones for your country?”
Thomas tensed up and he didn’t do a good job at making himself seem unphased by the question,” Crown or not, my friends come first. I know it’s a dangerous thought and a dangerous thing to say, especially since I’ll be king soon..but I’d give up my country with a snap of my fingers if it meant that my friends would be safe.”
“You’re right, that’s a very dangerous thought,” You said quietly as your gaze fell to his warm, whiskey eyes.
Would you give up your country for someone you loved? Of course, you would but to say that out loud when you’re next in line for the throne is more than just dangerous.
To admit that would have the ability to start chaos within the royal court and not just for your country. It gave other countries information that all it would take to bring down a powerful king was to threaten the ones he loved.
Thomas took in a deep breath and looked over your shoulder,” It seems that we’ve run out of time Princess.”
You turned around to see Minho standing a few feet away from you, avoiding your gaze.
“ Thank you for this afternoon Prince Thomas, it was lovely to talk to you,” You chimed as the two of you rose from your seats.
Thomas only smiled and took your hand, placing a light kiss on your knuckle,” I hope your day is as pleasant as you are.”
You nodded, turned to Minho, and locked elbows with him as the two of you made your way back to the castle. The two of you walked in silence and you refused to even look him in the eye.
As soon as you two entered the castle, Minho looked around quickly once to make sure no one was around and rushed you into a vacant room. You stumbled in as Minho closed the door behind you two, anger washing over you.
“ Step aside Minho before you make me do something you’ll regret,” You glared as you tried to push past Minho, but he kept his stance.
All you could think about was how he betrayed your trust and that he failed to tell you of your engagement. 
“ Y/N, listen to me. I never wanted to hurt you but it was the king's orders to keep the proposal a secret,” Minho said as he grabbed your hands to make you stop pushing him,” I wanted to tell you, I swear on my soul I did.”
You shook off Minho’s grip and raised your voice,” But you did hurt me! I thought we told each other everything and yet, you keep this from me! No matter how many times I’m forced to be with Thomas I will always push away because I don’t love him! Don’t you get it? My life is over!”
You once again tried to get past Minho but he didn’t budge once. All the frustration that was built up in you released as soon as you swung your arm back to slap him. Before you could, Minho grabbed your wrist almost effortlessly and shook his head at you,” Princess, don’t even think about-”
You slammed your foot down on Minho’s foot which made his grip loosen on your arm, leaving the door wide open. You pushed past Minho but as your fingers brushed up against the door, Minho grabbed you, trying to calm you down.
“ Hey! That is enough! You know I have years of training on you so just listen to me before you hurt yourself!” Minho warned as you struggled against his grip.
Your elbow drew back and hit Minho’s side and for a moment, his hands fell to his side,” Damn it Y/N!”
“ I can still kick your ass in this dress so don’t test me Minho!” You fired back but before you could even take a step, Minho rushed towards you and pushed your back up against the wall.
“ I swear on my crown if you don’t let go of me, I’ll make you sleep in the dungeon for a month!” You threatened as Minho grabbed both of your hands and held them up with his right hand over your head.
His tongue skimmed over his lips briefly before shaking his head, the two of you both still panting from your short fight,” Y/N! I wanted to tell you, I promise you I did. Your father threatened me saying that if I told you about Prince Thomas, he would strip my title and then I wouldn’t be able to live here anymore which meant that I wouldn’t be able to see you.”
You ignored the obvious closeness of Minho, his lips only a couple of inches away from yours and shook your head,” I understand that-”
“ No! No you don’t understand! The idea of not having you in my life is something I never want to even think about. You mean so much to me-” Minho cut himself off and clenched his jaw,” I’m sorry for not telling you. Please, forgive me.”
You sighed and shrugged under Minho,” Okay, I forgive you….Now..can you please get off of me?”
Minho stepped away from you as his hand crept up to his abdomen and pressed down on it, wincing a bit in pain,” Damn, you got me good.”
“ What can I say, I had the best teacher,” You declared as you smoothed out your clothes and your hair, doing your best to look like you just hadn't been in a physical altercation with Minho,”Do I look okay?”
Minho looked you up and down and swallowed,” Absolutely beautiful.”
You smiled back at Minho as you took a step forward, running your hand through his hair,” Well, your hair is a mess, you looked like you really got your ass kicked.”
Minho said nothing as you pushed his hair out of his face and smiled sweetly back as if you two weren’t at each other's throats minutes ago.
Minho’s hand gripped your wrist gently, stopping you from combing his hair with your fingers,” You know that I’ll always be there for you, right? And that I would do anything in my power to protect you.”
You raised your eyebrow suspiciously at Minho, feeling a bit wary of his attitude,” Yes, I know Minho. You’ve told me a million times. Is something wrong?”
Minho smiled weakly and shook his head as he gave your hand a gentle squeeze,” Nothing is wrong. Anyway, tonight you have a meeting with Thomas and his family to go over a few things so I’ll get you back to your room.”
You nodded and followed Minho out of the room. As soon as you stepped out, you remembered that you were supposed to meet Newt tonight. 
You let out a puff of air, feeling a sense of dissatisfaction with the conflict in your schedule. 
Your heels clicked against the marble tile in quick strides, completely unaware of the chaos that was brewing outside the castle walls. 
@dreamer821 @preciousnewt @yourfriendlyneighborhhoodnewsie  @cubedtriangle @143amberrose @partylikeits1899 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @mirkerlurker
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secndlife · 6 years
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sun&moon | 1.
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pairing: jackson x reader x jinyoung
genre: soulmate!au, college!au, fluff, angst, eventual smut? everything basically
summary:  she has always trusted fate. she was destined to someone and she was determined to find it. she found herself wrapped in hands that feel warm like the sun, but that belonged to someone else. she keeps on looking, only to find out that her fate had been watching over her, just like the moon.
word count: 3.3k
playlist
masterlist
It was midterm season and t was cold. Not ‘I’ll freeze to death’cold, but ‘holy shit it’s really cold’ cold - and that made you lazy and grumpy whenever you weren’t in bed. All you wanted was to get out of this lesson, grab a caramel macchiato and hit home. You felt so tired, all your lessons were draining you. You loved you major, you did. Public relations was something you’ve always wanted to do but now, being so close to graduating, things were chaotic. You had to work on your final thesis and still pass all these classes. All you wanted was to graduate and finally be hired full time at your internship - you were working at a small music company as their public relations assistant.
As your professor started to gather his belongings, he said, “Well everyone, don’t forget to read the chapter assigned on the syllabus for this week’s lesson and write down the essay about how social media can change the perspectives on PR. Thank you and see you next week for our midterm.”
“Oh my God! Is the midterm next week? Fuck! I totally forgot that!” your friend Jisoo started freaking out while you two left the classroom.
“Yes baby,” you laughed, “I can send you the summary I made for this subject and we can study together next week, I don’t mind.”
“Oh really? Urgh, I love you, you’re the best,” she said with a smile and giving you a side hug. Jisoo was one of your best friends ever since you started university. You two hit off instantly after meeting at orientation week and next thing you know you’re renting an apartment together at one of the campus’ buildings.
“Yeah, I know. Do you have another class or you’re ready to go home?” You hoped she was ready to go home so you two could have a movie night with a lot of food.
“I can’t. I’m supposed to meet up with Mark for this other project we have.”
“Oh, does this project have anything to do with making out until your lips fall off?” you said while you bumped her shoulder. Mark and Jisoo sort of had a thing. No one really knew how to label what they had, but it was definitely something and it was clear for everybody.
“Please, that’s your deal with Jackson. Anyways, we’re just meeting at the cafeteria, it’s really about a class project.”
“Hm sure, miss.” You gave her a side eye. “And about Jackson, we haven’t hooked up in a while. We’re nothing, especially compared to you and Mark. We just have fun when we’re drunk or bored, honestly.”
“Yeah sure, baby. If that’s what you tell yourself before you sleep with him… Anyways, I have to go. Mark’s texted me already. Don’t wait up ok?” she said, winking at you while she left off to meet Mark. Jisoo could deny as much as she wanted, but she would never be able to fool you - and she was falling fast for him.
You waved her goodbye and started making your way towards your place. You took off your earphones and put on a song just to distract you from the cold weather. Even tho you weren’t a fan of being outside in the cold, you could use a walk. It was calming around campus, especially since it was already past 6pm and most people were off class. You walked slowly, looking up at the sky and at all the people around you. You spotted a couple, maybe around your age and wondered if they had their tattoos already.
It was common knowledge: on the morning of your 23rd birthday, you’ll get a tattoo on your wrist, your soulmate’s initial. They’ll have your first letter tattooed on their opposite wrist; there are a few rare cases where the tattoo is on the same wrist, but those are truly uncommon. You never even heard of one. And if you still haven’t found your soulmate within a year, you’ll get the first letter of their surname next to it.
In your group of friends, Mark and Jaebum were the ones who had a tattoo already. Mark had a “J” on his left wrist. He had a thing already with Jisoo even before it happened so they just kept on going. Jisoo’s tattoo was a few months away, but she seemed pretty sure she’d get an “M” on her right wrist, even tho they weren’t “official”. Jaebum, on the other hand, had a “W” on his right wrist, but he hasn’t found anyone to match. That didn’t stop him from kissing a bunch of girls at frat parties just to get over his ex though. She turned 23 before he did and when her tattoo wasn’t his initial, she broke up with him. He understood, he knew it could happen, but that doesn’t mean it was easy to get over her.
The next one to get a tattoo would be Jackson, his birthday only a week away. You two had a unique relationship - ever since you met at a party in freshman year you have got along really well; having similar personalities made it 10 times easier. You’re both social butterflies, funny, touchy and dramatic - you were just a tone lower than Jackson. That caused you to be close to one another and to flirt constantly. Jackson had always some smart comment about you and you never backed off. After a few months of shameless flirting and sexual tension, you two started hooking up in your second year at university. It happened first at a frat party when you two were drunk and horny. It was no big deal - honestly, everything with Jackson was carefree. The sex was great, intense, and there were no strings attached. You two had no reason to call it off or to start anything serious so you just left it at that, hooking up whenever you felt like it and it never affected your friendship. He hooked up with other girls sometimes, but you honestly didn’t care. You knew you were free to do the same, you just wasn’t a big fan of one night stands.
Most of your friends knew and it wasn’t a big deal for them either. After it first happened, you got home and talked to Jisoo about it. 
“Well, he’s hot and nice and you two get along really well. I honestly don’t see why not. You’re young, pretty and single. You should be having fun, you know?”
“I mean, yeah, I know. I’m just a bit… unsure? I don’t know, Jackson’s really intense and I don’t wanna feel it too much?” you didn’t wanna fall for him, not at all.
“Then don’t. Look, don’t make a big deal out of this. You two just hooked up. Make this as fun and not serious as it can be so it would be beneficial for both of you. I’m pretty sure Jackson’s not looking for a relationship right now either so.” You thought about it and Jisoo was right, you had nothing to lose - besides, it would be nice to have good sex with a good guy whenever you felt like it.
A few days later you told Jinyoung about it. He was your best friend since God knows when. You two grew up together and your moms were friends so that lead to you being friends as well. You were having coffee together when you said with a tone as normal as it could be, “I’ve slept with Jackson.”
He was taking a sip of his drink and he pretty much choked on it: “You what?”
“Yeah, I mean, you could see it coming right?” You stared at him waiting for him to say something while he looked a bit uncomfortable.
“I guess. How was it? Are you two a thing now?” he asked, not really wanting to know the answer and looking everywhere but at you.
“No, he’s all about being a free spirit right now and I don’t want a boyfriend. So I guess we’re just gonna have random sex,” you laughed.
Jinyoung gave you a smile, shaking his head, “Lucky you then.”
After a few minutes of walking, you finally reached home. You were welcomed by your cat, Winnie. You and Jisoo adopted her as soon as you moved in, both being cat lovers. She was a Tonkinese with light brown fur, darker face and ears and the bluest eyes you’ve ever seen. She curled up at your leg while you walked in: “Hey girl”, you said, patting her head. She purred, appreciating the soft touch. You left your shoes and the entry and finally made your way towards your bedroom while Winnie followed you.
You dropped your things at your writing desk and then went to your bathroom. You couldn’t wait to take a nice relaxing bath and since Jisoo was busy with Mark, you’d take that time alone for some self-care. It was Friday and you weren’t in a party mood, so you decided to open a bottle of wine and just drink it by the tub. You turned on the water, feeling it with your hand to make sure it was just the right temperature. After drying your hands, you went to the kitchen to get the bottle of wine that was just waiting for you. You got the glass and after opening the bottle you went back to the bathroom; by then the tub was almost half full and you wanted nothing more than to spend the next hour in there, drinking your wine and relaxing among the bubbles. You plugged your phone on the speaker and put on one of your favorite songs. You got one of your bath bombs out of the cabinet and proceeded to undress. When the tub was full, you got your hair up in a bun and dropped the bath bomb in the water. Immediately, the jasmine smell started to spread all over your bathroom and that made you feel calmer. The water was filled with bubbles that had all shades of pink, which was just what you needed. You got your glass of wine on the tub border and went inside. The water felt so good, you could feel it’s warmth spreading all over your body and starting to relax you.
With soft music playing on the background, you started to let your mind wander. You started to think about this soulmate thing. Your 23rd birthday was a few months away and you’d finally get your tattoo. You were not sure what that’d mean for you. You were an intense and curious person and the possibility of not finding your soulmate killed you. You wanted that, you wanted that bond and you wanted to live what you were destined to live. You were scared of ending up alone, with two letters on your wrist that you’d never find out who they belonged to. The possibility of falling in love with someone who’s not your soulmate is equally terrifying. That’s why you didn’t have any serious relationships in the past - you didn’t want to fall for someone who could not be your person. Sure, people ended up with their non-soulmates all the time, but that’s not what you want for yourself. When you fall in love, you want to do it with the right person. But how could you be sure? In theory, you couldn’t. You could find someone who’s theoretically your match, but maybe he’s not. Those who were able to find their matches, they say you just know - you feel it. But there was no way to prove it, you couldn’t be sure of it in any means other than your feelings and your heart.
After three glasses of wine, a bunch of songs and wrinkled hands, you decided it was time to get out of the tub. The wine got you a bit tipsy so you were just gonna heat up some leftover pizza and hit the bed while some movie was playing on the TV. You got your towel wrapped around your body and made your way back to your bedroom. You felt way more relaxed now. You dried off your body and got into one of your oversized t-shirts that you usually wore to sleep. Winnie was lying comfortably in your bed so you petted her tail, “I’ll be back in a second, I’ll just grab some food and I’ll come to cuddle you”. She purred in agreement and you went to the kitchen so you could finally eat something. You took the pizza out of the fridge and put it on the microwave. Once it was done, you got your plate and got back to the bedroom. You poured yourself another glass of wine and started looking for something to watch on Netflix. You settled for one of your favorite movies, “Love, Rosie”. You’ve watched it countless times and could never get tired of it. It always made you cry because you loved this idea that if two people are supposed to be together, they’ll be together in the end, no matter what. That’s what you hoped happened to you too, you hoped you’d end up with your soulmate after all.
By the time the movie ended and the second romcom you decided to watch, alongside with the bottle of wine, it was almost 11pm and you decided to go to bed. First, you went to check on your phone, who was long lost since you’ve got home. You picked it up and was greeted by some texts from Jackson:
[10:30pm] Jackson: what are you doing on this friday night beautiful
[10:31pm] Jackson: I wanna cuddle
[10:32pm] Jackson: can I come over? I swear I won’t try anything besides kissing you and cuddling
[10:45pm] Jackson: answer meeeee
You laughed at his texts - Jackson could be needy sometimes. You thought about his request - well, you had nothing to lose and you could use some strong arms cuddling you to sleep so you texted him back.
[10:50pm] you: wow friday night and you’re texting me about cuddling? why aren’t you at a party?
It didn’t even take him 2 minutes to reply.
[10:51pm] Jackson: don’t think i didn’t try! but there’s not even a single party on this campus today
[10:51pm] Jackson: besides, I’m too tired to party today and I wanna cuddle
[10:52pm] Jackson: so, can I come over or what?
[10:53pm] you: hm I guess. I could use some ok cuddles for the night.
You knew he’d whine at you calling his cuddles ok. That was a part of your relationship, this bickering, it added fuel to the dynamic.
[10:53pm] Jackson: ok??? ok??? my cuddles are fucking great.
[10:54pm] Jackson: anyways be there in five
[10:54pm] you: hurry up i’ve had a whole bottle of wine and I’m sleepy
In less than 10 minutes Jackson was ringing the doorbell, his dorm being really close to yours. You got out of bed and made your way to the entrance, Winnie following you. You opened the door and were greeted by a smiley Jackson. He was wearing sweatshirts and black adidas pants. He looked really hot in simple clothes like that.
“Hi,” he said, making his way towards you and giving you a kiss on the cheek.
“Hi,” you replied while giving him some room so he could come inside. “Can’t believe you couldn’t find a place to be tonight.”
“I did, here.” He closed the door behind him and all of the sudden Winnie showed up at his feet. “Hey pretty lady,” he said patting her head. “I swear this cat likes me more than she likes everyone else. She cuddles me whenever I come around.”
You rolled your eyes at him, “She does that to everyone Jackson, don’t be so full of yourself.” You started walking towards your bedroom and you heard his footsteps chasing after you. Suddenly, you felt strong arms being wrapped around your waist.
“Bullshit, she never does that to Jaebum,” Jackson said while he rested his head on your shoulder.
“That’s because Jaebum smells like his cats and Winnie doesn’t like that. She’s jealous,” you said, laughing.
Once you’ve reached your bedroom, you got out of Jackson’s grip and plopped onto the bed. The man was still standing at the doorway, staring at you with a pout while he took off his red hoodie, revealing a simple black shirt underneath. “What’s with the face, Jacks?”
“I know she likes me better, don’t lie to me.” He could be such a drama king sometimes and it was really amusing to watch and bicker back. Tonight though, after a bottle of wine and an exhausting day, you just wanted to sleep. 
“Jacks, please, I’m really sleepy. Just get in here.”
“Well, since you’re begging.” You smiled lightly when he laid by your side. You were facing each other and you felt his hand coming to rest on your hips, “I’ve kinda missed you.”
“Missed me or my body?” you said, teasing him.
“Stop, you know it’s not like that,” Jackson had a cute pout on his face.
You gave him a light peck on the lips, “I know, it’s just funny to see your face when I say stuff like that.”
You stroked his hair and he closed his eyes. “You look really good with dark-brown hair, you should stick to it.”
“I look good with every hair color, baby. But thanks,” he hummed softly, feeling your hands over his locks. You laughed. Jackson was such a confident person, so sure of himself. You admired that. And he also made you feel more confident yourself since he was always dropping praises your way.
You felt his hands slowly rising your t-shirt up so he could stroke your thighs with the tip of his fingers, “You know, my birthday is next Friday. It will be my 23rd.”
“Hm, I’m aware.” You closed your eyes, feeling his soft warm touch against your skin. You could also feel his face closer to your, his breath smelt like mint and it made you wanna taste it.
“You know,” you felt his hand making its way from your thighs to your cheek. “I’m gonna get my tattoo in a week,” his lips brushing against yours lightly. “And I wouldn’t mind at all if it was your initial.”
Next thing you know, his lips are fully on yours. They taste just like they smell, minty. Nevertheless, they feel warm. Everything about Jackson was warm. His touch, his kisses, his heart. He was so intense it felt like fire, and sometimes you were scared you’d get burned. You felt his tongue at your bottom lip and then it was against yours. The kiss was passionate, just like him. His hand then moved to the back of your neck as he pressed you further against him. You hummed in response, your hands against his chest, grabbing at his shirt.
His lips then moved towards your neck. On his way down, he kissed your jawline and your jugular, making you whimper.
“You said you wouldn’t try anything tonight,” you said while you felt his tongue against that soft spot he knew all too well at your neck.
“Say the word and I’ll stop. Besides, I’m still just kissing you,” he said and then bit at your neck softly, earning a low moan.
“Jacks…” You were literally exhausted and all you wanted was for him to hold you while you fell asleep. You grabbed his face gently and moved it towards yours, giving him a final kiss.
He smiled, “Fine, c’mere then.” He pulled you closer, making you rest your head on his chest. It felt warm and safe there and you started drifting away, sleepiness washing over you. “I mean it you know.”
You looked at him, half-lidded eyes, “Huh?”
“I wouldn’t mind if your initial showed up at my wrist next week.” He had such a genuine smile across his handsome face and it kinda made your heart melt.
You smiled back at him, eyes closed and ready to fall asleep, “Neither would I.”
a/n: ok so… my first experience in writing? I don’t even know how this “ok i’m gonna write” thing started tbh. I know I have a huge tendency in not finishing things up, but I have so much planned for this series, so please, bear with me. I’ll try my best within my limits ok? I wanna thank three girls who helped me a lot;  @yoongitalks, one of my inspirations, my friend and also my beta. thank you for putting up with me and for accepting my insane request of joining me on this mess. i love you to the moon and back.  @jugyoem, my baby, the amazing artist who did the cover for this fic. thank you for supporting me through everything. I love you a lot! lastly, my music expert, @yyugyx, who helped me with the playlist. can’t thank you enough for always saving me with your music knowledge. love you! anyways, feedback is always appreciated and my askbox is always open. 
117 notes · View notes
dosei-dreams · 6 years
Text
;; kms :: mar
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S/N : I cannot stress this enough. This is NOT a smut fic. what is written in this fic isn’t in any way meant to glamorize or sexualize any of the serious topics that are included here. if you are sensitive to any of the topics in this fic, please please please either read this with caution or don’t read it at all. I care more about your mental health and safety than anything. if you do decide to read, i hope you realize what i am trying to do with this.
National Domestic Violence Hotline
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Genre/Warnings - Angst, Male R*pe/Non-Con,Stalking, Domestic Violence, Mental Disorder, S*icide Mentions ; Original Characters
Wordcount - 10.3k
Summary :: Amaya never thought she’d have to find her best friend like this. But when she did, she knew she had to help him through his trauma.
Mar :: Convalesce :: Replevin :: Apprehension :: Comprehension :: Exeunt 
AO3 Cross-Post
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It was early in the afternoon when Amaya got a sudden call from her long time best friend, Hoseok. It wasn't really like him to call— he opted for texting instead— so she was a bit confused when she saw his name pop up on the caller ID of her phone. But she answered nonetheless.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Amaya! Um… You don't mind if I crash at yours tonight, do you?”
Amaya could hear the hesitance in Hoseok's voice, telling her that the elder was either nervous or embarrassed about asking the question— like he always was.
“Of course, Hobi. You're always welcome at my place!”
She heard a relieved sigh crackle through the phone and then a small chuckle before Hoseok responded, “Oh, thank god… I really owe you one, Amaya.”
“Don't even mention it!” Amaya giggled to herself as she spoke to Hoseok, “I'll see you later tonight?”
“Yeah. Tonight.”
And with that, he hung up.
Amaya hummed to herself, finding it strange how Hoseok had spoken. The two of them had been best friends since high school; she knew Hoseok like the back of her hand. And she just knew that something was a bit off about what he had said, the way he had said it. She shrugged it off though, thinking that maybe Hoseok had gotten into another fight with Yerin, his long time girlfriend, for the second time that week.
Being friends for nearly fifteen years, Amaya knew everything about Hoseok. Hoseok was a naturally shy person, not being able to open up to people until he got to know them a little better. She and Hoseok were complete opposites, but that's what made the two of them the perfect pair. In high school, it didn't take that long for Amaya to become friends with him when they were freshmen. Even now, years later, they're as close as they were back then. Whenever Hoseok needed Amaya , she was there like his crutch; vice versa for Amaya. The two of them were inseparable.
That is, until Hoseok started dating Yerin.
Hoseok and Yerin had met their sophomore year of college. They seemed like the perfect couple to anyone who saw them— always smiling and laughing with each other, showing dubious amounts of affection toward each other. It was as if they were made for each other. They fit together like two pieces of a puzzle; they were perfect for each other.
At first.
Somewhere along the way, Yerin had become fairly possessive of him, only wanting Hoseok to herself. It put a small gap in his and Amaya’s friendship, but she didn't really mind it. All she cared about was seeing Hoseok happy — and for the most part, he was. For the most part, Hoseok and Yerin were problem free, but over time, things got a little more hostile, more negative. The two would get into fights often, Hoseok calling Amaya and talking to her about it right after and then another argument happening because he was talking to her. It was a never ending cycle, and in the end, they compromised.
Amaya and Hoseok stopped talking as often— she'd been lucky to talk to him once a month— which seemed to please Yerin.
When Hoseok told Amaya that he wouldn't be able to talk to her as often, he sounded guilty, apologizing and telling Amaya that it wasn't because of her but because of how protective Yerin was of him.
Amaya herself wouldn’t have called it protective— maybe a different word— but nonetheless she told him that she didn't mind as long as he was happy, which she had thought he was. Besides, it wasn't like the two were never going to talk anymore. It didn't matter how often they talked to each other, Amaya and Hoseok were still going to be best friends no matter what. No matter how protective Yerin was, that wouldn’t change how close the two of them were.
Amaya didn’t know the exact date that Hoseok first asked to stay over at her place for the night, but it was around four months ago last spring. Of course, she obliged, happy that she would be able to see her friend after a long time of no physical communication. When he first came over, Amaya just thought he had gotten into a very heated argument with Yerin, and when she asked him about it, he just shrugged and told her:
"Something like that."
He'd always left in the morning, not even saying goodbye to Amaya. He left the guest room exactly how it was before he got there, bed perfectly made, curtains open and the small wardrobe containing some of his clothes neatly organized. The only thing that would actually indicate that he had even stayed the night was the note he would always leave on the bedside table.
thanks for letting me crash here tonight! i owe you one
-H :)
Today wasn't anything new, but it was definitely surprising. It was the second time Hoseok had asked to stay over this week— he had never asked to stay over so often. This would make it the fifth time he came over this month. It started to concern Amaya how often he was getting into fights with Yerin. To her, it was bordering toxic, but she didn't say anything about it. It wasn't her relationship, she had no say in what he did or didn't do, and Amaya thought that maybe it would all cool down in a while. Every good relationship had downfalls like this, right? Things will get better for them, they're just hitting a rough patch. Relationships like Hoseok and Yerin's always work out in the long run.
But what kind of relationship did Hoseok and Yerin actually have?
Amaya thought they had a fairly good relationship. It seemed like they loved each other whenever she saw them — his arm wrapped around her shoulders, the two of them nothing but smiles and heart eyes.
A picture perfect couple.
She didn't really understand what it was they could possibly have fought about, but again, it wasn't her relationship. She didn't know what went down behind closed doors.
Not yet, at least.
Knock Knock Knock
She went up to the front door, instantly greeted by Hoseok's heart shaped smile. He pulled her in for a quick hug (‘maybe a little too quick’, she thought to herself), a light chuckle coming from his lungs as he embraced her. He had missed Amaya, that was obvious. Even though they had seen each other earlier this week, Amaya had missed him too. It had been too long since she had actually seen Hoseok. The last time he came over, he hadn't left his room, so Amaya didn't really have time to actually talk to him.
"I brought jjajangmyeon. Extra pickled radish, just for you." Hoseok lifted up a black plastic bag containing food, Amaya’s favorite food to be exact. He gave her another smile before walking in and setting the bag down on the kitchen table. Amaya nodded and made her way over to the couch as he followed, the two of them falling down on it with loud sighs. Amaya outstretched her arms, resting them on the back of the couch and looked over at Hoseok.
"You get into another fight with Yerin?"
She waited for him to shrug
Hoseok shrugged giving Amaya a nervous— somewhat fearful— smile.
'Something like that.'
"Something like that."
Amaya nodded and pursed her lips, taking the TV remote and surfing the channels for a movie. As they tried to find a movie, talking to each other about what kind they wanted to watch for the night (Amaya voting for a horror film, while Hoseok chose a Disney), Hoseok's phone was buzzing nonstop against the armrest of the couch. Hoseok had tried to act as if he couldn't hear it, but it constantly went off.
Over and over and over again.
Amaya glanced at the screen of his phone and noticed they were all messages from Yerin, but she couldn't really see what they said. When it seemed as if the buzzing wasn't going to stop, Hoseok suddenly took the phone in his hand and stood up.
"I'm just gonna… I’m gonna put this in the room. Be right back."
He walked past Amaya to the guest room, opening the door and walking inside for a moment before coming back into the living room and sitting on the couch with a loud sigh. "Sorry about that..." Amaya shook her head at him, telling him it was no problem and going back to searching.
"So what's been going on? We didn't really get to talk the other day." Amaya didn't look at Hoseok when she asked the question, continuing to surf channels as she lazily sat back against the couch, trying to make the question sound as casual as possible. Hoseok chuckled nervously, trying to seem as if he were getting comfortable on the couch, but Amaya could tell he was tense. Though he was trying to relax, his body was stiff. Amaya didn't say anything about it though, letting him speak as she continued to surf through Netflix.
"I..." he sighed before continuing, "I don't know, Amaya. We've just been getting into a lot of fights. That's all."
She knew he was lying.
"Jung Hoseok." Amaya scolded him, finally prying her eyes away from the TV and looking at him. Hoseok smiled at her and laughed, holding out his hands in defense as if he knew she were going to smack his arm like she’s done many times before.
"I promise, Amaya! We've just been... disagreeing with each other lately. It's nothing serious, Amaya, I swear." He laughed again, this time a hint of nervousness laced around it, as if Amaya was going to catch on to his lie. Well, she already had, but she wasn't going to press him any further. Amaya just nodded and looked back at the TV, finally finding a movie that the two of them could watch.
Amaya stood back up and walked over to the kitchen table, taking the two bowls of jjajangmyeon out of the bag along with the large container of pickled radish. She mixed the noodles and took them back to the couch, handing Hoseok one of the bowls and sitting back down on the couch, eating silently as the two of them watched the movie. Even as he ate, something seemed off about Hoseok to her. Yes he was looking at the TV, but it didn't really look like he was watching the movie. As Amaya stared at him from the corners of her eyes, she noticed that he was deep in thought, his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth moving very slowly as he ate. He hadn't even noticed that she was now looking straight at him. Amaya was looking at his expression at first, but eventually, something peeking from under his shorts quickly caught her attention, it's deep purple and blue hue enveloped by a grotesque yellow border.
Was that a...
Amaya looked back at Hoseok's face, concern completely spread across her own, and she reached her hand out to lightly touch his arm. She were about to ask him what was really going on, but what Amaya was about to say caught in her throat when Hoseok flinched with wide eyes, scooting further away from her on the couch when she finally broke him out of his trance. He smiled at her briefly, hoping she hadn’t seen his reaction to her touching him, before looking back at the TV.
"Hoseok..." Amaya started. Her voice was quiet as she looked at him with a mixture of concern and fear for what may actually be happening to him. "What's going on with you and Yerin? Are you okay?"
"It's nothing..." he barely whispered to her before looking at her with a fake smile. "It's really nothing, Amaya. Promise!"
"Then what's that on your thigh?" she pointed at the purple mark on the side of Hoseok's thigh, not even pretending not to notice it anymore. Hoseok tried to play it off, giving Amaya a smile as he shook his head.
"I just bumped it on the coffee table back at home. Don't worry about it, Amaya!" he chuckled nervously and gave her another fake smile while trying to pull the hem of his shorts down further and covering his thigh. "Let's just go back to watching the movie, okay?" He shifted his gaze back to the TV, stealing glances at Amaya a few times until she stopped staring at him, going back to watching the movie and eating her food.
Amaya thought about it for a while. Maybe she was blowing it all out of proportion. Maybe they were just getting into a lot of fights. There was a possibility that he could actually have just bumped his thigh on the coffee table, he had always been a bit of a clumsy person. That was it, she thought. Amaya’s thoughts calmed down her assumptions as she stared at the TV.
Like a good friend (or maybe like a naive idiot), she believed him.
After the movie finished, Hoseok told Amaya that he was tired, saying that he had a long day at work and that the fight he had with Yerin had also exhausted him. Of course, Amaya had told him okay and left him at that, going into her own room to get some sleep since she had to work the early shift the next morning. They told each other their good nights and went into their respective rooms, Hoseok closing the door and leaning back against it as he ran his hands through his hair, tugging lightly at the roots.
He could hear that his phone was still buzzing against the mattress.
He sighed as he walked over to the phone and checked his messages. He had over 300 messages, 50 missed calls, and 10 voicemails from Yerin. He deleted the voicemails, not wanting to hear her voice at the moment, but he checked a few of the messages, his face dropping when he did.
Yerin: Hobi
Yerin: Love
Yerin: Where did you go?
Yerin: You're with Amaya, aren't you?
Yerin: Of course you are
Yerin: You fucking whore
Yerin: Ignoring my messages???
Yerin: Just wait til you get home.
Yerin: You're gonna get it
Hoseok felt dread wash over him as he read Yerin's messages. He didn't want to go home now, knowing that if he did, he'd just have to deal with her and whatever she has in store for him. He turned off his phone and set it down on the bedside table, falling onto the bed and forcing himself to sleep.
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Hoseok wanted to sleep to relax— to get things like this off of his mind, but all it did was amplify the problem. When he slept, images of Yerin popped into his head, infiltrating the one place he thought he could be away from her. It’s safe to say that his sleep wasn’t a restful one, and he woke up feeling worse than he did before he went to bed.
Hoseok checked the time— 11 AM. He knew that Amaya was most likely gone by now, probably going off to work a few hours earlier. He wanted to stay at her place for a little while longer. Another day wouldn’t hurt, right? He
Hoseok sighed to himself and got out of the bed, making it neat again and shuffling out of his room to the  bathroom right across from it.
He looked at himself in the mirror—  deep bags under his eyes, a tired frown across his face. The sight of himself he was seeing only made him want to hang his head in shame.
Pathetic.
He stood there for a moment before lifting himself upright and walking toward the shower. Turning the water on, watching the steam accumulate in the air, the feeling was somewhat suffocating to Hoseok. The air was becoming too thick for him, and his mind made it seem like his throat was closing, restricting any air from coming through. He took a deep breath just to make sure his mind wasn't playing tricks on him.
Once he took off his shirt, Hoseok immediately started to hate himself more as he stared down at his torso, the splashes of purple and yellow and blue spread all across it. He ran his hand across the colors gently, wincing slightly when skin made contact with skin. He hated the colors, the ugly, sickening hue they gave his body.
He hated himself.
He took a shower that morning, hoping that the dirty colors would be washed away with the water.
Unfortunately, they didn’t go away.
Hoseok ate in silence at the kitchen table, chewing slowly as he was deep in thought. Maybe he could just... break up with Yerin. Yeah. Maybe he could do that if she let him.
If she let him.
There were multiple occasions where Hoseok had tried to break up with Yerin, telling her he didn't feel anything for her anymore. It was no hard feelings, really. Just a college relationship gone dry. But every time Hoseok tried to end things, Yerin would do whatever she could to make him stay— some things more sinister than others. But maybe this time she would let him leave.
If she let him
He doubted that would happen, but a man could dream.
Hoseok stayed in his room for the rest of the day— sleeping, waking up, rinsing and repeating— coming back out at around 10 PM. He tidied the room back up, making the bed again and leaving a note on the bedside table thanking Amaya for letting him stay over, like he always did.
When he walked out of the room, Amaya was in the kitchen, a cup of coffee in her hand. Her eyes looked tired, exhausted as if she were going to fall asleep at any given moment, but they perked open a bit wider in surprise when she saw Hoseok walk past her, not really knowing that he would still be there. Not expecting him to still be there. But Amaya played it off as if she wasn't surprised and just raised an eyebrow at him. "You going home?"
"Uh, yeah." He stopped at the front door and looked at her with a soft smile. "I'm gonna talk it out with her, try to make things a little better between us, you know?"
Amaya hummed and nodded at him, understanding what he was saying somewhat.
"What's a relationship for if you can't get through hard times?"
"Yeah..." She took a sip of her coffee as she looked at him, his smile beginning to waver. There was a deafening silence between the two of them that seemed to last a lifetime until Hoseok put his hand around the doorknob.
"Well, I'm just gonna.. I'm gonna go now... See you later, Amaya."
"See you later..."
He gently closed the door behind him, leaving Amaya wondering as he got in his car and drove off.
The drive home was silent, only the sound of the wind whirring through the crack between the window and the car door. Hoseok invited the noise with ease, thankful that the high pitched sound was loud enough to drown out his roaming thoughts— thoughts that had been screaming at him ever since he had woken up. Even if it were just for a moment, Hoseok wanted his mind to be cleared before he had to go home. He wanted to think about anything other than what might happen when he would have to confront Yerin. He just wanted to be calm.
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The ride home wasn't long enough.
He was parked in the parking lot, only a few feet away from the place he called home— the place with her. Only a few feet away, but he wished he were thousands, millions of miles further. His hands were sweaty against the steering wheel, breathing shallow, stomach churning.
He stared up at their shared apartment, seeing the light through the window of their living room. He knew what it meant, and it only made him more anxious. He took a deep breath and took the key out of ignition.
Once he got out, he walked as if he were striding through molasses and prayed that the path to their front door would grow longer with each step he took. But it didn't, and eventually, he was at the door. Before he could even bring his hand up to the doorknob, the door opened and he was met with Yerin's small figure.
"Hi, Hobi."
Her voice was saccharine and laced with trace amounts of poison when she spoke to Hoseok. He knew that the sweetness in her voice was merely a facade, though.
He knew he had to play her game now.
"Hey, babe. I.. I missed you" he hesitated for a second, but he gave her a fake smile and walked inside, hoping she didn't notice his hesitation. He went into the kitchen, pulling a glass from the cabinet above the stove and pouring himself some water— testing the waters, hoping that maybe, just maybe, he’ll be off the hook this once. Slowly, he put the glass up to his lips, but it fell from his hand, falling on the ground and the water staining his legs and feet as he gasped out in pain.
The feeling of Yerin's arms wrapping around his waist, her hands pressing hard against his torso,  was unbearable. The dull pain made his body shake, his breathing shorten. He clenched his fists, digging his fingernails into his palms as he stammered out through gritted teeth. "Y-Yerin..."
"Where were you, hm?" She calmly asked him. "Were you at Amaya's place?" Hoseok stayed silent, not looking at Yerin as he endured the pain shooting through his whole body. His short breaths were beginning to shake as she added more pressure, trying to push him to the edge. "I asked you a question, Hobi."
Hoseok groaned in pain, gritting his teeth even harder than he already had been as he hung his head down.
"Ye… Y-yes..."
"Hmmm..." Yerin applied more pressure to Hoseok's middle, causing the male to audibly cry out, tears starting to spring up in the corners of his eyes from the pain. She exhaled, looking up at Hoseok from his side with a light pout, her head tilted slightly. "You know how i feel about you going there, yet you were at Amaya's place. For two days... and that wasn't even the first time this week that you went over there... Tell me, Baby." she squinted her eyes at Hoseok, smile fading and her grip tightening on Hoseok like a vice.
"Did you fuck Amaya?"
"No!"
Hoseok tried to make his voice sound stern and unwavering, but it squeaked out, sounding unsure and as if he were lying. "I-I... I didn't fuck Amaya. I swear."
"I don't believe you." Yerin loosened her grip on Hoseok, slipping her ice-like hands under his shirt and running her fingers across the three colored skin. the feeling made him shiver, the hairs on the nape of his neck beginning to raise in a sick anticipation for what was to happen next.
Hoseok cried out at the feeling of Yerin digging her fingertips into the skin of his abdomen, the tears that had gathered in his eyes beginning to fall uncontrollably.
"I bet you had fun, whoring around with Amaya" she harshly dragged her fingers along Hoseok's skin, letting her fingernails scratch him until she could feel welts form.
Hoseok took hold of her hands, whimpering as he did.
"Please… p-please stop..."
Yerin pouted as she looked at his face, noticing the streaks along his flushed cheeks.
"Are you crying?"
her voice was sweet as she spoke to Hoseok. So sweet that he would think she were trying to comfort him if she weren't the one causing his pain. "Fucking pathetic. No one's ever going to want a weak bitch like you. You call yourself a man?"
The juxtaposition of Yerin's voice and her words made Hoseok's head hurt, having him hang his head down as individual tears began to splash onto the hardwood of their kitchen floor.
"You're lucky even I tolerate you." She sighed in annoyance as she let go of Hoseok, taking a step back as he wiped his eyes and looked over at her. "Strip."
Hoseok's eyes widened at her demand "I... What?"
"Did I stutter?" the sweetness in her voice was gone, all that's left being bitter venom that made Hoseok's stomach drop. "I said, Strip."
Hoseok shuddered at the harshness of her voice, it booming and echoing in his ears as his breath caught in his throat. "I-" his voice was quiet, scared and unconfident. He was hesitating, mostly stalling so he wouldn't have to take his clothes off in front of Yerin, so he wouldn't have to see his bruises and the welts she had left on him. "I don't want to..."
"Did I ask what you wanted? I don't think I did." Yerin leaned against the kitchen table with a raised eyebrow. "I'm not going to tell you again, Hobi."
Hoseok shakily exhaled, bringing his hands to the hem of his shirt and pulling it off. He felt cold once he took it off, covering his middle with his arms as he looked down at his feet.
"The rest."
Hoseok felt dirty, disgusting as he undid his belt and unbuttoned his jeans, pulling them down along with his underwear. He was completely bare in front of Yerin, covering below his waist with his hands. He was in his most vulnerable state in front of her, everything out for her to see.
It didn't feel right. Hoseok didn't like how his eyes kept watering as he stood naked in their kitchen. He hung his head back down as he stood still, every hum and murmur coming from Yerin amplified in his ears as he feared what she would make him do next.
The held back hiccups and sobs burned at his throat, trying desperately to come out as tears hit his feet.
He hated this; this isn't what he's supposed to feel like whenever he's with Yerin. He's not supposed to be afraid of his girlfriend, someone he should love unconditionally and share happy moments with. A whimper unconsciously escaped his lips as he kept his head down, his tears falling freely again as he spoke.
"I'm sorry..."
"You're sorry?” Yerin straightened herself from the table, taking slow strides closer to Hoseok. “Sorry for what, Hobi?” She tilted her head as she looked at Hoseok's abdomen, the red marks her fingertips created becoming more prominent on his skin. They felt warm as she glided the pads of her fingers across them, bringing her hand down to Hoseok's and moving them away from his center. She gripped him tightly with her free hand, causing Hoseok to yelp in pain as his whole body tensed up. "Sorry for being a slut? For not telling me where you fucking went so you could let Amaya play with your cock?" She looked up at him, smirking at the tears that were streaming down his cheeks as he looked up at the ceiling, trying his hardest to endure the pain. Hoseok was breathing heavily, tiny whimpers coming from his throat as Yerin tightened her grip more and more as each second passed.
"I... didn't let-"
"Sure you did, Hobi." Yerin squeezed tighter. "Why else would you not tell me where you had gone, Hm? Just tell me the truth."
Hoseok groaned loudly as the pain became too much to bear. "I didn't fuck Amaya!" his voice was hoarse as he spoke out to Yerin, finally looking down at her with wet eyes and a terrified expression. "I didn't even touch Amaya… She’s...  I-I swear... I swear I didn't..."
Yerin pursed her lips and nodded, letting go of Hoseok and taking a step back. "Still lying to me? I see how it is..." She looked him up and down, a disgusted expression spread across her face as she stared at his bruised body. "Go in the bedroom and wait for me in there."
Hoseok was hesitant to move, his hands going back down to cover himself as he stood before Yerin. The cold air that surrounded him gave him goosebumps, chilling his spine and rendering him stiff, immobile.
"Hoseok. Go in the bedroom right now."
He didn't want to go. He knew he didn't want to go, but Hoseok's legs deceived him as he made his way to their bedroom.
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The bed dipped from the pressure of his body weight. His heart was pounding in his chest; he could've sworn that anyone within a ten foot radius would be able to heart the loud thrumming that was coming from Hoseok's body. Sweat from his hands was beginning to stain the dull purple sheets of the bed as he sat, each second that whisked by feeling like a lifetime. Eventually he could hear a soft voice swimming through the halls of the apartment, bouncing off the walls and dancing with his eardrums.
Strumming my pain with his fingers
Singing my life with his words
Killing me softly with his song
Killing me softly with his song
Telling my whole life with his words
killing me softly with his song…
It was the song.
It was their song.
It was a song that used to harbor so much love in Hoseok's heart, so much happiness. It was the song he and Yerin first kissed to, the song they first made love to, the song he initially wanted playing when he proposed to Yerin.
Now, that song— a song that would soothe him to sleep if need be, would calm him when he was at his angriest, their song— only made a drowning fear wash over Hoseok and told him one thing.
He was to be punished.
The light tap tap tap of Yerin's feet padding across the hall as she walked closer and closer to their bedroom made Hoseok want to scream and hide away. He wanted to be anywhere but where he was now 'I wish I had stayed at Amaya's', he thought, but he knew if he had stayed any longer it would've just gotten worse, he would've had more purple and yellow marks on more than just his torso. He just knew it, so maybe it was for the best that he had come back when he did.
Yerin walked inside their room with a large candle, two long lengths of rope and a black strip of fabric.
"Hobi, love. Sit back against the headboard."
Hoseok swallowed harshly as he peered up at Yerin. He found it pathetic how he saw someone with a figure like hers, someone as dainty and petite as her to where Hoseok actually towered over her, as terrifying as he did. That was it. He was terrified of Yerin, his girlfriend, beyond belief. He thought it was damn near laughable. What would people think of him if they knew he was scared of someone smaller than him— that he was being hurt like this by someone who was physically weaker than him? It's exactly as Yerin said it was.
It was fucking pathetic.
He scooted himself back against the headboard, the cold wood making him wince and shudder as he pressed his bare back against it.
Yerin slung one of the ropes over her shoulder, stretching out the other and grabbing hold of Hoseok's arm. She pinned it up to the frame of the headboard, making sure his wrist was flush with the wood before tying the rope tightly around his wrist and forearm, nearly cutting off circulation.
Hoseok said nothing as this happened to him. The rope cut into his skin, making it known to him that Yerin wanted there to be marks left on his wrists by the end of the night.
As she moved onto the next arm, so many thoughts and silent questions roamed through his mind. How did he get in this position, being scared to come home because he didn't want to get hurt? When did their relationship shift from cute pet names and loving kisses that lingered to degrading, hurtful insults directed toward him and bruises so bad that they lasted for weeks at a time? When did the cute pet name, 'Hobi', develop such a hateful edge to it whenever it left Yerin's lips?
What had he done to deserve this?
He had to have done something to make her so angry in the first place; there's no way she'd have done something so vile, so foul, so sinister, unprovoked. No, he had to have done something. That was the only explanation. It was his fault, and if it was his fault, then he must have deserved it.
Suddenly everything was black. He couldn't see anything as Yerin covered his face with the strip of fabric. "Y-Yerin... I d-don't want it. please..." Hoseok pleaded with her, already beginning to struggle in his binds. He hated being blindfolded. He absolutely despised it because he was left completely vulnerable to whatever Yerin was planning on doing to him. He wouldn't be able to brace himself for whatever act she would put upon him. He could only wait and pray that it was nothing too severe.
"That's too bad, love. You should have thought about that before you lied to me."
"But... I didn't lie..." Hoseok heard the striking of a match, smelling the phosphorus as the fire burned on the tip. The soft crackling of the candle wick popped in his ears and he began to tense up, his breathing becoming short and shallow as he knew what was going to happen next. "I swear! I didn't lie to you... please, I'm sorry! I didn't lie."
"You keep saying that," her poisonous honey voice was right in the shell of his ear and he flinched, He could feel her hot breath against him, she was in such close proximity. "But I still don't believe you."
Drip.
Hoseok cried out in pain, arching his back and once again trying to free himself from his restraints when the first drop of hot candle wax fell onto his thigh. It was a searing pain, one that lingered for far too long for him to bear, and he couldn't control the whimpers and sobs that ripped through his throat. "Besides..." Yerin continued, letting another drop of wax fall onto a random part of his body and causing him to cry out again, his muscles tensing as he tried to endure the pain. "Why would I believe a whore like you? Hm?" Another drop, another yelp and sob, another tug at the ropes that wouldn't budge. "All whores lie. Especially the one in front of me right now."
"I'M SORRY!" Hoseok began screaming, not being able to handle it anymore. His blindfold was soaked with his tears, stuck to his face as he cried. "I'M SORRY! PLEASE... I'M SO SORRY!" His wrists were beginning to bleed with how hard he tugged and tried and failed to break free from the ropes. "PLEASE FORGIVE ME, I'M SO SORRY, PLEASE!" He didn't know exactly what he was apologizing for, but the two words fell from his mouth like a mantra as Yerin kept dropping wax on his body; drop after agonizing drop his screams grew louder and louder.
"Please... I'm sorry. I'm sorry.. I- Fuck...I'm so sorry... Please..."
"What are you sorry for, Hobi?" Yerin's voice was a soft whisper.
Hoseok was basically wailing at this point, drops of blood falling from his wrists and staining the bed sheets, sweat beading across his chest and forehead and his breaths becoming labored and sporadic, tears staining the blindfold and beginning to stream down his cheeks. His throat was beginning to sting already from how hard he was screaming. This was too much.
All of this was too much for Hoseok.
"Sorry for not telling me where you were for two days? Sorry for going over to Amaya's even when i told you not to? For being a fucking slut and fucking Amaya like the disgusting whore you are? Hm? Is that what you're sorry for?"
"Yes!" Hoseok cried out, shaking vigorously and pulling against his binds again, not caring that his wrists were bleeding.
He just wanted it to end.
He just wanted to get out.
"Yes, all of it! I'm sorry! I swear to God I’m so fucking sorry!" He was saying what she wanted to hear. He was desperate; he only wanted to be untied, let out so he could hide away again, so he could pretend none of this happened again. "I'm Sorry... Please stop now! I promise I'll be good, please!"
"I don't know, Hobi." Yerin huffed as she poured a large amount of melted wax onto his abdomen, causing Hoseok to throw his head back and scream painfully, it coming out choked and slowly turning into a high pitched whimper as he hit his head against the headboard and a vein protruded from his temple. "What's to say you won't go running back to Amaya? What's to say you won't find someone else to whore around with?"
"I won't, I swear... Just- Please..." Hoseok was begging, pleading with Yerin to stop the pain she was causing him. "I promise I'll be good... I promise..." his throat was hoarse from his screams and sobs; he couldn't take anymore. He felt like he was on the verge of passing out from the pain, his blindfold beginning to feel cold from how wet it was with his tears and his wrists going numb from how hard he tugged at them. He knew it wasn't over yet. He just knew she wasn't finished with her torment. "Yerin, please... stop..."
"Open wide for me, love."
He could feel Yerin's fingertips on either of his cheeks, trying to open his mouth forcefully, but he tried his damnedest to keep his lips sealed shut, attempting to shake his head away from her grip.
"Did you fucking hear me? I said, Open!" She squeezed hard on his cheeks, causing him to cry out and his mouth to open involuntarily as she placed a small pill in his mouth. "Now swallow it before I make you."
Hoseok did as he was told, unable to win the battle at this point. It was quiet at this point other than the one song playing on repeat in the background. But eventually he felt something; he knew exactly what was happening.
Yerin began to latch onto Hoseok, taking him in her hands as he began panting in panic.
"N-no." he pleaded with her. "I don't want to... p-please." he shook his head as he felt her hover above him, beginning to sob again when she fell onto him.
"Oh, love." she took hold of Hoseok's shoulders as she whispered in his ear. "How else are you supposed to learn your lesson? Hm?" She began to rock her hips against him harshly, grunting as she dug her fingernails into his skin. "How else am I supposed to punish a dirty fucking whore like you?"
"N-NO!" he screamed out tugging at the ropes again. He didn't care if he bled anymore. He just wanted this to stop, he just wanted to end his suffering and run somewhere else."PLEASE STOP! I-I'LL BE GOOD! PLEASE! PLEASE! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE!"
"You're too loud!" Yerin brought her hand up to Hoseok's mouth, muffling his screams and cries as she continued to use him much to his dismay. "You want the whole town to hear how much of a slut you are? I bet you fucking do."
Hoseok was still screaming behind her hand, begging for her to stop, constantly apologizing and telling her that he'll be good.
anything to get her to stop.
He just wanted it to stop. He just wanted it to finally be over. He continued to scream until she was frozen on top of him.
She was lightly panting in pleasure
He was hyperventilating from the pain and the fear.
She removed herself from him, her feet padding against the floor as he heard a door quietly creak open and shut.
Hoseok could hear the water running from behind the door, telling him that she was now taking a shower.
It was still pitch black for him, the blindfold still secure on his face. The numbness of the ropes against his wrists began to wear off now, only the sting of the nylon digging into his raw flesh. He was cold, shaking as he sat on the bed and his breathing weak and labored. He was a broken, crying mess while Yerin was calmly taking a shower. The water was still running as silent tears began to stream down his face, falling from his chin and dropping onto his burning thighs. He felt dirty, disgusting, like a whore. He felt exactly like Yerin told him he was.
Because to him, now he was.
The water stopped and he slowly lifted his head as the door opened. He took a deep breath, a sense of relief washing over him as he thought he was going to be untied now, that he was going to be able to clean himself and forget this ever happened.
"Yerin..."
His relief quickly shifted to dread as he heard the padding of footsteps get further and further away from him, eventually hearing the sound of the front door opening and closing.
He was still tied up; he was still blindfolded. He was still vulnerable in their bed.
She had abandoned him.
Hoseok dropped his head and began to silently sob, the only sound emitting through the apartment being his soft hiccups and the sweet words of Roberta Flack
Strumming my pain with his fingers
Singing my life with his words
Killing me softly with his song...
Before nothing could be heard anymore, and Hoseok blacked out.
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He didn't know what time it was when he came to; it felt stuffy in the bedroom, like he couldn't breathe. His voice was hoarse, his throat burning with every shallow breath he took. he tried to get up from the bed, but he wasn't able to move. Confusion spread across his face as he tried again until it dawned on him. it was still pitch black, the music was still playing; the sting on his wrists were still there as they were forcibly held up against the headboard.
Yerin hadn't come back and freed him from his restraints.
Panic settled over him as he realized that he was left alone for God knows how long, and God knows how long she intends to leave him here as a punishment. He dropped his head, tears beginning to well again in his covered eyes.
He didn't know what to do. He couldn't just stay like this until Yerin came back— whenever that would be. No, he had to get out. There was only one thing he could do. His breaths were weak, he knew he could pass out again at any moment, it was now or never. Who knew what Yerin would do to him next if she came back, when she came back.
"S-Siri..."
He heard the familiar beeping of his phone nearby, sighing in relief as he thanked God in his head that he set his phone up to listen to voice commands. It took a few moments before he heard the automated voice greeting him happily, unknowing of his current situation.
"Hi, Hoseok! How can I help you today?"
Hoseok took a deep, shaky breath as he gathered his jumbled thoughts, his arms beginning to burn from being held up for so long, the skin on his thighs and abdomen stinging underneath the now hardened drops of candle wax. He lifted his head up, taking another breath as he called out to his phone again.
"Call... Call Amaya..."
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Hoseok's call was what woke Amaya up that morning. It was far too early for her to be woken up; she was cranky as she checked her phone to see who the hell was calling her at 3 AM. The brightness of Amaya’s phone screen slightly burned her eyes, but she endured it when she noticed Hoseok's name on the caller ID. It was weird, when Amaya thought about it. It wasn't like him to call her at all let alone so early in the morning. Nonetheless, Amaya pressed answer and put the phone up to her ear, taking a sleepy breath before speaking.
"Hobiii, It's three in the morning... what's wrong?"
It was silent on the other end other than faint music that seemed to be far away from his phone. Amaya was confused, waiting a moment before saying anything else. It was too silent, Hoseok wouldn't have called her if he didn't need anything. She was close to speaking again before she heard a soft whimper.
"A...A-Amaya..."
"Hoseok?" Amaya sat up in her bed when she heard his voice, shocked by how high pitched and strained it was. "Hoseok, what's wrong? What happened?" There was a shaky breath, another whimper, a choked sob, before Amaya heard his voice. It sounded as if he were in pain, nothing that she was used to hearing; it was like a completely different person was on the other as she listened, his voice soft, desperate and scared.
“Amaya please… Help me…” He whimpered. His breathing became more labored the more he spoke, she could hear it. It was painful to listen to him through the phone. Amaya jumped out of her bed, landing on her feet as he continued to speak. “Please… before she comes back…”
“I’m coming, Hoseok. Don’t worry. I’m on my way right now.” Amaya was nervously rambling as she grabbed her keys, running down the hall to the front door. She was barefoot, only wearing a thin tank top and sleep shorts as she ran out to her car. It was freezing outside, the cold air stinging Amaya’s skin, but she didn’t care, hopping into her car and starting it as she stayed on the phone with Hoseok. “Stay on the phone with me, Hoseok. I’m on my way— just don’t hang up okay?”
Amaya’s voice was beginning to shake. She had no idea what was going on, not really, but she sped to Hoseok’s house. He sounded like he was dying, maybe he was; she didn’t know, and that’s what terrified her. “Just keep talking to me, okay?”
“I… I’m sorry… I-I lied to you…”
“Don’t worry about that right now, Hoseok. That doesn’t matter at the moment.” she assured him.
“I’m a whore… I lied… I’m s-sorry…”
“No, Hoseok. You’re not-… You’re not a whore, Hoseok. You’re going to be okay, just… just keep talking to me okay. Tell me what you can see.”
“I-I can’t see anything…” He began sobbing, his soft hiccups running through Amaya’s ears, causing tears of her own to sting in the corners of her eyes. “She blindfolded me… I can’t see anything…”
“That’s okay, don’t worry. I’m almost there, just tell me what you can hear.”
“I hear…” Hoseok’s voice faded, Amaya only heard silence on the other end. it scared her, her eyes widening as she drove faster to his apartment.
“Hoseok! keep talking to me, okay? I’m just few minutes away, just keep talking to me, okay? What do you hear?”
“I hear music…” He groaned out. “I-it’s our song, Amaya. It’s me and Yerin’s song.”
“Where’s Yerin right now? Is she still there?”
“She left me here.” He whispered. Amaya could hear sniffling and quiet sobs as he spoke to her. Hoseok sounded completely broken. “I-I passed out… I don’t know how long it’s been… please just hurry, Amaya.”
That was all that he said, repeatedly apologizing and asking, begging, pleading with her to help him. It broke Amaya’s heart as she drove. Her hands were sweaty against the steering wheel and she drove like a maniac, trying to get to her best friend in the fastest way possible. Once she was in the parking lot, right outside of his apartment, Amaya screeched to a stop. “I’m Here, Hoseok. Here I come.”
“Please hurry…”
Amaya hung up her phone, quickly unbuckling her seatbelt and running out of the car to his front door. She was about to knock, but she noticed the door was open a crack. Her hand slowly dropped lower; she pushed the door open, the dim lights of the kitchen lamp emitting through the whole room. Amaya slowly walked in, inspecting her surroundings.
There was shattered glass in the kitchen, water splashed everywhere. Hoseok’s clothes were on the ground, a messy pile in the kitchen, and there was music playing softly throughout the whole apartment. Just like Hoseok had said, it was the song that He and Yerin grew to love together— Killing Me Softly. Overpassing the music was soft sobs. Amaya’s head jerked in the direction the sobs were coming from, her feet moving on their own to Hoseok’s room.
The door was wide open, and Amaya could see him clearly. She brought a hand up to her mouth, a silent gasp coming from her lips as she saw his state, tears beginning to well in her eyes at the sight.
He was naked, His wrists tied against the headboard of his bed and his eyes covered with a black blindfold. His body was covered in a deep purple wax. It was everywhere— his thighs, his abdomen, his shoulders, his arms. everywhere— and his wrists were bleeding, the blood dropping onto his sheets and his skin. All over his body were large bruises, mostly on his torso. assorted grotesque colors of yellow, purple, blue, black and red. It was difficult to look at, too much for one person to take in.
Amaya slowly walked closer to him, bringing her hand up to his face to undo his blindfold, but when she made contact with his skin, he flinched, a terrified yelp ripping through his lungs.
“Please, Yerin I’m sorry! No more, I’ll be good, I promise! Please!”
“Hoseok, It’s me!” she gently gripped onto his shoulders, he was shaking vigorously, hyperventilating to the feeling of her touch. “It’s me, Hoseok; It’s Amaya!”
“Amaya…”
His panicked breaths began to slow as he listened to Amaya’s voice, the soft voice she was using to soothe him. “It’s okay, You’re okay.” Amaya slowly brought her hands to the back of his head, untying his blindfold and pulling it away from his face. She gave him a warm smile as he looked at her with wide eyes. “See? It’s just me, okay?”
Hoseok nodded, tears beginning to stream down his face as she started to untie the ropes from around his wrists. He winced as she took them off, the nylon fibres still digging deeply into his skin, staying silent as Amaya told him comforting words.
“I’m here now, you’re okay. It’s gonna be alright; we’re going home, okay?” As the last ropes fell from his wrist, Amaya grabbed a blanket from the side of the bed and covered Hoseok’s waist with it. He sat silently, tears dropping onto the blanket as Amaya went back into the kitchen, being mindful of the broken glass, and gathered his clothes.
“You don’t have to put everything on if you don’t want to.” she told him as she handed him his clothes. He silently nodded, still looking down at his covered thighs. Amaya noticed this and gently rested her hand on his knee, causing Hoseok to look up at her with wet eyes.
“It’s okay, Hoseok.”
“It’s not okay…” he whispered, sniffing and bringing a hand up to his face, wiping his eyes a few times. Amaya could see the pain in his eyes as he looked at her. “I don’t know what I did…”
“Nothing you did could be justification to this, Hoseok. You know that.” she cupped his face with a single hand, wiping away a stray tear with her thumb. “Come on, we’re going to my place.”
Hoseok slowly nodded and let Amaya help him out of the bed. He covered himself with the blanket, following her out the apartment and into the car.
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Hoseok was silent in the back seat, lying down and staring blankly at the back of the front seat. Amaya didn’t say anything either, what exactly could she say? She’s still in the dark as to what happened to him, how he ended up in that position.
Thinking back onto when she first had seen him not too long ago, in his most vulnerable state, it made tears begin to bead and fall from her eyes. It was a horrible image, something Amaya never thought she’d have to see in her lifetime, and definitely not a position she thought she would see Hoseok in. If seeing it was this overwhelming for her, she could only imagine how horrible, how traumatized Hoseok was feeling right now.
The two of them were silent in Amaya’s car, only the engine whirring, the thump thump of her heartbeat, the quiet hiccups and sniffles from the backseat, the gritting of her teeth, filling her ears.
The ride home seemed extra long, every road Amaya turned feeling elongated, stretched out so that they would stay on the road for longer. She heard Hoseok take a deep breath; looking at him through her rearview mirror, she could see in his face, how broken he actually was.
What had Yerin done to him? That was the only question running at full speed through Amaya’s brain. What had Yerin done to him to make him feel like this? She wanted to know, needed to know, but at the same time, Amaya just wanted to help him through this. She wanted to be able to be there for him through everything, like she’s always been, but how could she help him through this?
This was something Amaya’s never dealt with before, something she never thought she’d have to deal with. This wasn’t something Hoseok thought he’d have to deal with, but he was. He was dealing with it all and Amaya was going to be there to help him, to comfort him in any way he needed. That was the least she could do. It was the only thing she could do.
Amaya couldn’t tell him that it was okay, because it wasn’t. She couldn’t tell him that it would get better, she didn’t know if it would. The only thing she could do was be there with him as he went through the motions. Amaya could only do whatever she could to let him know that this, none of what happened to him— though she knew so little of what happened in his apartment— was his fault.
And that’s what she was going to do.
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Hoseok was sitting silently on Amaya’s couch, still covered with the blanket as he waited for her, Amaya searching in her bathroom for the first aid kit, pulling it from under her sink and walking back out of the bathroom to the living room.
She crouched in front of him on the couch, holding her hand out to him.
He slowly gave Amaya his hand, letting her take it gently in her fingertips as she applied peroxide to his wrists. Hoseok winced slightly, but said nothing as she tended to his wounds, wrapping bandages around his wrists quietly, paying close attention to the bloody marks.
“Do you want to tell me what happened?”
Hoseok slowly shook his head, looking at Amaya as she continued to clean his wrists, wiping the dried blood from his skin.
“That’s okay. You don’t have to tell me.” she calmly told him, moving onto the other arm and wiping it clean before putting on more bandages. “Just know that you’re safe here, okay?” Hoseok hesitated, but nodded, dropping his arms to his sides once she finished. “It’s okay if i help you take the wax off, right?”
Hoseok thought about it for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek and looking down at his thighs before nodding slowly. Amaya nodded back and stood up, going to her kitchen to grab a washcloth and wetting it with warm water before coming back and sitting down beside him.
He removed the blanket from his top half, letting her place the wet cloth onto his arms as the wax warmed up and became easier to remove. Amaya was careful as she pulled the wax off, trying not to hurt him in any way as she did this. Underneath the wax were deep red marks that were sure to be burns from the wax being too hot against his skin. After each hardened drop she removed, Amaya placed the cloth over the irritated skin to soothe the sting it gave him when the air made contact with his sensitive flesh. Drop after drop, it overwhelmed her more and more as she removed them, wondering how long he had been put under this torture for.
The two of them were silent as Amaya cared for him— for Hoseok, understandably so. For Amaya? She didn't know why exactly she were silent. There were a lot of different reasons— Amaya didn't want to say the wrong thing, she didn't know what to say exactly. This was new to her— seeing someone like this up close and personal, especially someone as close to her as Hoseok was, was completely new, and she didn't know what she should have done to comfort him.
It took a while before all the wax was off, but eventually Amaya got it all removed from this arms and abdomen. More bruises were beginning to form on his skin, purplish red around the edges. She moved away from him, handing him the washcloth and giving him a warm smile.
“The rest should come off in the shower,” she told him. “If you feel strong enough to wash up tonight.” he nodded at Amaya, the only words coming from him being the quiet ‘thank you’ before she stood back up. She told him that he should try to get some rest if he could, feeling a bit tired herself and letting out a quiet yawn. "There's clean clothes on your bed. You should change into them once you get in there, okay?" Hoseok slowly nodded again, staying silent as his head hung down.
"Hey..."
Amaya crouched down again, gently placing her hands on Hoseok's face and lifting his head to get him to look at her. The way his eyes were glossed over with more tears made Amaya’s heart break. She knew he was thinking that all of this was his fault, she knew that he was blaming himself for what had happened to him. Amaya caressed the balls of his cheeks with the pads of her thumbs, Hoseok letting out a shaky sigh as she did so.
"This isn't your fault, okay? You know that..." Hoseok closed his eyes and nodded, taking a sharp breath through his nose as he tried to keep himself from crying again. Amaya nodded back, giving him a smile as she willed herself not to cry as well, and the two of them stood up, silently walking to their respective rooms and closing the doors.
Amaya couldn't sleep that night. Every time she closed her eyes, the image of Hoseok tied up against his headboard burned under her eyelids. It's a sight she would never be able to forget, something she'll never be able to get out of her head for God knows how long. His soft sobs and whimpers as he sat naked and vulnerable on the bed, how he was in so much pain that he passed out, being unconscious for who knows how long, how he had just been abandoned... abandoned by someone who was supposed to be there for him. It made her want to vomit, made her want to cry, made her want to scream.
It was too much; how was she supposed to help him through this? How was she going to be enough to help him get through a trauma this great? He hadn't even told her what happened; he probably never will. It was a scary thing, knowing that he endured something so incredibly vile. Who knows what would've happened if Amaya were a minute later, if she had never picked up her phone. She didn't want to think about it, but it roamed. the thought roamed in her mind and lingered, causing her to groan in frustration and slam her fists into her pillow.
Amaya knew Hoseok was awake too; through the walls of her room, she could hear the springs of his bed creak from his tossing and turning,most likely trying to find a comfortable way to lie down that wouldn't hurt too much. She felt horrible; she had seen the signs, knew there was something going on. She knew that there was more happening than meets the eye. But she stayed silent, she played as if there was nothing wrong, because she didn't want to believe it. Amaya didn't want to believe it when she saw the bruise on his thigh the other day, when he flinched at her touch. But now she had to believe it, because now, she’s seen it with her own eyes. There was nothing to mask it as something else, because she knew exactly what it was.
There was no hiding from it now.
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