#-squirts water bottle at your general direction-

[zalimbane]

Call me your equal, daddy. uwu

❝ DISGUSTING . ❞

[lucifersgirl]

I see you're taking requests? Well if you're still up for it, I've got a good one for you How about (sub) Lucifer where his partner has had a really bad day and goes extremely rough on him to vent out some anger

YES!! I LOVE this idea!! Here it is!! Please, please, PLEASE keep these amazing requests coming :)

Harder

⚠️WARNING⚠️ - THIS WRITING CONTAINS EXPLICIT CONTENT. SMUT BELOW. MDNI.

————————

You nearly slammed the door when you entered the house. Your boss had asked you to work overtime that day and the next, your friends had bailed on you when you were supposed to hang out and some old hag had run over to you and stolen your purse. Not only that, but a demon’s child had splashed in a puddle right beside you and had gotten your outfit and hair all wet.

Lucifer wouldn’t be home for a few more hours, so you decided to take a warm shower to calm you down. You went to the bathroom and closed the door behind you. You removed your clothing and started the water. You got in, lathered up your hair and washed your body. The warm water soothed your anger and made you forget all about your day. You lost track of time and, when you got out of the shower, it was almost seven in the evening. “Shit!” You groaned. You grabbed a towel and dried yourself off gently. Just then, the power went out. “You have got to be fucking kidding me!” You screeched, reaching for the door handle. However, you slipped on the water on the floor from your exiting the shower. You fell to the floor. Hard. After a few seconds, you felt your arms and legs to make sure you weren’t bleeding. Luckily, you weren’t bleeding at all. You would have a giant bruise on your side, however. You got your act together and pulled yourself off the floor with the help of the sink cabinet. You grabbed your towel and wrapped it around you before opening the door and hurrying to turn the generator back on. After you did so, you went back to the bathroom to clean up the water on the floor and the rest of the mess.

“______! I’m home!” Lucifer’s voice echoed through the halls of the palace.

You slowed your pace and walked towards his voice.

“______? Where are y-…oh…” Lucifer’s voice retreated to a whisper as your towel-covered figure stood before him.

“Bedroom,” you said sternly. “Now.” You pointed in the direction of the bedroom.

Lucifer quickly ran to your shared room. He was a touch nervous; it wasn’t like you to order him around in such a demanding way. He stood awkwardly by the bed, not wanting to sit down in case that would make you more angry.

You entered the room without the towel on, showing off your clean (now sweet-smelling) body. You closed and locked the door behind you. “Strip,” you ordered before going to your closet to retrieve a certain box.

Lucifer gulped and did as you had said. He set his hat gently on the bedside table and hastily ripped his clothes off. He turned to see you in front of the closet, digging through the box to find what you were looking for. Lucifer’s cock was standing straight and tall, twitching as he anticipated your next move. He saw you give up and just carry the box over to the bed, setting it down on the table at the foot of it.

You pulled out the largest strap-on you had, a bottle of lube and a vibrating cock-ring. You also pulled out some ropes. You set your finds on the bed. “Up,” you pointed.

Lucifer obeyed, carefully lying down with his arms over his chest. He didn’t say a word, afraid that he would upset you.

You grabbed the rope you had found and climbed on top of him before you secured his arms to the headboard. “Not too tight?”

Lucifer shook his head. “No, miss.”

“Good,” you nodded as you turned to the other end of the mattress. You picked up the lube and squirted a bit onto your fingers. “Open.”

Lucifer let his legs fall open, exposing his every part to you.

You snickered as two of your lubed fingers slipped into his hole. Not waiting for him to adjust, your fingers steadily moved in and out of him.

Lucifer moaned as a mix of pleasure and pain washed over him. He bucked his hips up, crying out as your fingers hit that spot inside of him. He whined when you pushed a third finger into his hole. “S-so much! Fffuuuck!”

You laughed before removing your fingers. You gripped your strap and inserted the tip into Lucifer’s ass. You pulled out and thrusted again, forcing half of the silicone dick into him. Though you were being rough, you still looked for any signs of discomfort. When you found none, you pulled all the way to the tip and shoved the entire length of the strap into his hole.

Lucifer was a sobbing mess beneath you, begging you to be gentle with him, crying that it was too much. When you thrusted again and hit his prostate dead on, he screamed “FUCK!” and came undone, white spurts of cum shooting from his cock and onto his belly.

You rode him through his orgasm gently before shoving your strap in and out of him again, even more rough than before.

Lucifer cried out as his sensitive hole was stretched out yet again. He was a moaning, begging mess under you.

He was in for a very, very long night.

————————

[captainmdhridoyhossain-blog]

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[ozarkthedog]

summary — Chris needs help applying his sun tan oil.

warnings — DBF!Chris Evans x afab!reader. age gap. dirty talk. hand job. face sitting. oral sex (f). fingering. squirting. light spit play. light spanking. light cum play. the usual filth. chris evans looking like this ☝️ no beta.

word count — 2.1K

author’s note — we were all affected by the “SMA” shoot. this is where my mind went. 😏

☽ 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ♁ 𝐎𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞'𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ☾

— 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐎𝐧𝐥𝐲 - 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈. — 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝/𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦. 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 & 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝!

“Hey, pretty girl. How’s it going?” Chris asks swimming over to the edge of his massive inground pool. 

You drop your things on one of the lounge chairs and stretch your arms over your head, “Oh you know, same old, same old.” You chuckle, grateful to unwind after a long day of job hunting.

Having just completed your third college semester, you enjoyed the sanctuary his backyard lent you. Filled with various palms and vegetation, a trickling waterfall, and the stacked bar, it was heaven on earth.

Chris was one of your dad’s closest (and most handsome) friends. Only recently had you gotten to know him, bonding over a silly meme one night at a party and from there he became a part of your life. 

He allowed you to come over whenever you wanted as long as you gave him a heads up. “You know, just in case I have any…,” His lips pull into a smirk when he sneaks a glimpse over the rim of his sunglasses at your curves. “Women friends spending the night.”

The crystal blue water ripples as he swims another lap across the pool. This is one of the many activities he uses to stay in shape aside from one particular, salacious activity. His words, not yours.

You walk to the edge of the glistening pool and dip your toes in. It’s cool and refreshing, and the tattooed man makes it feel that much better.

After a final lap, he rises from the pool like a Greek god. 

Water drips down his immaculate body, curving over the taut muscles. His tiny, barely there swim trunks could easily be mistaken for boxer briefs they were so tight.

You clench your jaw from dropping at the wicked sight.

He pads to your left, splashing you with a bit of water as he reaches for a towel. “Oops. Sorry.” It lacks sincerity but you could care less.

His muscles bounce with every swipe of the towel as he dries himself off. 

“I’m gonna lie out for a bit.” He nods towards the lounge before reaching for the tanning oil.  

That golden chain bounces against his hairy, inked chest and his intimidating package bulges with every step as he makes his way around the pool.

You try to distract yourself as you sit on the pool edge and stare at your reflection before kicking it away. You’d only been in his presence less than 5 minutes and already you can’t stop yourself from being pulled in his direction.

He makes sure to catch your eye when he slathers his muscles in tanning oil. Slowly rubbing his hands over every inch of his expansive chest and rippling torso. Putting on a show that would be illegal if he wasn’t in the comfort of his own backyard.

You squirm against the heated concrete as he holds your gaze with a smirk. Your core clenches hard when he slides his slippery fingers down the v cut of his hips and pushes the thin briefs down a bit further.

He’s got a small tattoo at the base of his hips and thick auburn hair circles the beginning of what looks like a well endowed cock.

Your mind swirls with heady arousal making you feel faint.

“Hey, Sweetheart,” he calls out, grinning when you jolt from your horny stupor. “Help me get my back?”

You hesitantly push to your feet and walk over to the hulk of a man as he tosses you the bottle. 

“Rub a generous layer on, please.” He requests, turning away and giving you a clear view of his sculpted back. You swallow the lump in your throat and pour the liquid into your palms.

You smooth the oil along his shapely shoulders, down his spine, and slowly massage the ornate muscles.

“Damn that feels good. Your hands are so soft, Sweetheart.” 

You’re a mess. Between the praise and being able to rub your hands all over his back, it’s no wonder you’re in ruins. 

Chris turns around after you smooth the final layer on his freckled skin and you feel an imaginary punch hit you sqaure in the belly.

His once tight swim trunks are now extremely and overtly tight as his cock throbs, pushing against the thin material with a twitch.

You avert your eyes, looking anywhere but the enormous package that’s aching to be released. 

“Ah, yeah, that happens when pretty girls touch me.” He plays it cool and sits down on the lounge chair, stretching his limbs with a sigh. 

You fidget with the oil still smeared on your hands unsure of what to do with the mess until you spot his towel. 

“Ah ah,” Chris chides with a raised brow. “That’s a waste of good oil.” 

His head drops to his chest and his eyes flick from his straining swim trucks up to your dazed eyes. “I think you could put your hands to good use.” 

Heat burns your cheeks at the insinuation. “Really? Is that such a good idea?” You teethe your lip nervously. 

“Come on, bein’ a goodie two shoes is overrated.” He says as he palms his cock with a husky groan. “It’ll be our little secret.”

How could you say no to such a tempting offer?

“‘Atta girl.” Chris praises as you sink onto the lounge next to him, pressing your thigh against his before carefully tugging the wet material down his thighs. 

His hefty cock flops against his trim belly with a dull thud, eliciting a pathetic whimper from your lips.

“See somethin’ you like, Sweetheart?”

Warmth blossoms in your chest at the nickname and sinks into the confines of your core, drowning your pussy in arousal.

He’s so unbelievably girthy. Your fingers don’t even touch as you cautiously wrap them around his cock. The bulbous crown pulses red at the tip making you lick your lips greedily. 

“Yeah, that’s it.” Chris praises, as his head falls back onto the lounge with a groan. “Up and down, milk my cock.”

You slowly swirl your grip around his length, tugging steadily and hanging on every noise that squeezes from his throat.

“God damn your hands are fuckin’ amazin’.” His brow furrows as he bites his plump bottom lip with a guttural moan.

Your core throbs, pounding like a beating heart as more slick drips into the lining of your bikini. You clamp your thighs together desperate to quell the terrible twinge that gets stronger by the second.  

“Awe. Is my pretty girl’s pussy achin’? ” Chris taunts with an exaggerated pout. “She gettin’ all wet and drippin’ for some attention?”

In a flash, he maneuvers your body so it’s laying over his. 

Your knees are propped on either side of his head while his cock stands at attention directly in front of your face. 

“Such a fine fuckin’ ass you have.” He takes a bite of your supple flesh causing you to jolt forward with a whimper from the harsh treatment. The slick tip smacks against your chin and leaves a sticky stain of precum and oil. 

“Keep goin’, Sweetheart. I’m just gonna have a taste.” 

Chris pulls the drenched lining of your bottoms to the side and growls. The basement deep vibrations rumble through your body as a strand of slick stretches with his movements until it breaks and snaps back onto your soaked core.

“Lookit’ how wet this little pussy is. You’re absolutely gushin’.” Breath fans your skin as he takes a deep whiff of your folds. 

“Fuck.” He grits his teeth and thrusts his hips toward your face, dribbling more precome down the mushroom crown. “If that’s not the sweetest smellin’ cunt.” He takes another deep breath before attaching his mouth to your cunt like a dog to a bone.

“O!” You squeal and grasp the base of his cock for leverage as his tongue dives between your weeping folds. He caresses your velvet walls and widens your convulsing channel with unmatched prowess.

A sharp blow lands on your behind. “Didn’t I say keep going?” Chris grunts, detaching from your sopping heat for a moment before diving back in.

Your mind races to catch up on the task, literally at hand, and you grasp the obscenely thick base giving it a few quick jerks. Chris groans into your flesh with every stroke of your fist. His cock throbs, steadily dribbling as you circle the reddened tip with tight swirls.   

His beard scratches your tender folds as he eats you whole, sending shocks up your spine as he sucks your clit into his mouth. He teases the tiny nub with harsh flicks and violent swipes forcing you to the edge quicker than anyone ever has before.

Your hands clutch his cock for dear life as a blinding light explodes behind your eyes.

“‘Atta girl.” Chris mumbles against your shiny core as you writhe against his face and grind on his tongue, prolonging the pleasure. 

You slump forward resting your head on one of his burly thighs to catch your breath but Chris has other plans. 

“Let’s see how messy this pussy can get.” 

Just then a thick wad of spit hits your folds. You recoil with a gasp but Chris snakes his hold even tighter around your thighs. 

“Can’t fake that innocent bullshit with me, Sweetheart. Your pussy fuckin’ clenched when I spat on it.” He deviously gloats.

Your belly flips with embarrassment but he was right. You fucking loved it.

A whine slips from your throat as you push your sticky cunt toward his face ignoring any shameful thoughts that try to surface.

“There you go. Just let me do the thinkin’.” 

Chris taps two fingers against your swollen petals before pushing them into your quivering core and pulling a desperate moan from you. 

“Stroke my cock, Sweetheart.” He commands gruffly, gliding his digits along your walls. “But remember, if you stop. I'll stop.” 

You clench around his thick fingers at the threat. With new found, albeit anxious energy, you begin stroking his cock again. His veiny girth glistens in the sunlight as you steadily pump in time with the fingers that thrust into your cunt.

“Shit– yes, such a good girl.” He locks his lips around your clit adding to the overwhelming bliss.

His fingers search out that spongy spot behind your clit as your hands milk him from base to tip, making his abs tighten with each stroke. When your cunt locks down on him, he curls his fingers and focuses all his attention on that special spot.

“Chris– oh fuck!” you cry as your core floods with slick and he shoves and twists his fingers deep inside. Your rhythm lags and you falter with slowing tugs when the rapture begins to suffocate you.

Chris ‘tuts’ and slows his fingers to the same languid pace. 

“Thought you were better than this. Thought this greedy cunt wanted to come.” he chides, smacking your ass.

A whiny apology tumbles from your lips as your pace renews and you swirl your thumb around the tip after every upward stroke. You feel him smile into your pussy, pleased with your attitude before he latches his lips around your clit once more.

Your hips drive back onto his fingers and jaw chasing your pleasure like it was the last thing on earth. His cock throbs under your touch as his own ecstasy rapidly mounts.

“I’m gonna come all over that pretty face.” He muses, lapping at the spill of arousal that drips from your core. “Mark you up real nice.” 

Your cunt flutters at his lewd statement and your hands twist faster around his length, desperate to be covered in his spend.

“Come on, Sweetheart.” Chris commands with a ragged growl, balls ready to empty. “Wanna feel how tight this cunt can get.”

Your body lurches as you come with a shout, squirting your creamy release all over his fingers and beard. 

With a gravelly groan, his sack tightens and he splashes hot waves of come across your face. Your chin, lips, and cheeks are painted in his gummy seed as he trembles beneath you while you milk his balls for every last drop. 

A few blissful moments later, he lightly smacks your thigh signaling you to move. You crawl off his body and sit at the end of the lounge while he tucks his softening cock away.

He curls a finger at you. “Come ‘ere. Let me look at you.” 

You crawl between his spread thighs as he cups your stained face in his palms. He drinks up the sight and grins deviously at you covered in his gluey white spend. 

“Gotta make sure you rub it in completely or else it won’t work.” He quips with a wink while dragging his fingers through the thick fluid and massages his sticky seed into your skin.

Your purr under his touch and flutter your lashes up at him. Maybe he was right. Being the bad girl was more fun.

anyone else want to be covered in come now??????

[mackjlee9]

Diluc Ragnvindr x Top!Male!Reader [Smut]

Warning; tipsy!diluc, overstimulation, dumbification, rimming, cock praising, male squirting, breeding kink, hair pulling. 

Masterlist

Game; Genshin Impact

Wonderful idea by Lazuliita

  Letting out a satisfied groan (M/n) walked to the stairs of the tavern, getting to the first floor where his boyfriend, Diluc, was finishing up cleaning the counter. The tables were wiped clean, the chair on top of them on both floors, and every door and window locked, the only thing left were the stools that they usually piled next to the wall in pairs, since there were only four of them.

(M/n) sat on the closest stool to him and sighed, resting his arms on the counter, making Diluc look at him with a small frown.

"I just cleaned there," the male only showed him a playful smile, letting out a small chuckle.

"I'll clean it before we leave." Finishing up with the counter, Diluc turned to fix the bottles of wine behind him, along with a few bottles of grape juice and apple cider, either for him or kids that came with their parents. "Diluc," he called, receiving just a hum as a response. "Would you pour me a glass of wine?"

Diluc glanced at him and sighed, hiding a small smile as he grabbed a wine glass along with (M/n)'s favorite wine. He opened it and pour it, handing it over and getting a glass of grape juice for himself. The red-haired male thought it was a good chance to just have a small chat before leaving the tavern, the place was already closed and they were the only ones there, so he could let loose around his boyfriend.

Like that, with each a cup of their favorite drink, they started talking about various things that happened throughout the day.

A couple of minutes after the conversation started, Diluc turned around and kept fixing the wine bottles on the rack behind the counter, reaching blindly to grab his glass of grape juice. Or well, what he thought was his grape juice.

(M/n) got distracted by some dust on his clothing, so he looked down to get rid of it, making him obviously look away from Diluc's general direction. The red-haired held the, somehow, almost filled glass and started drinking it. The sweet taste it had made Diluc realize how good it was and how thirsty he was, so he was downing it like it was water.

Now, after getting rid of the dust on his clothing, (M/n) grabbed his glass, only to frown as he felt how light it was. His glass was pretty full a few seconds ago since he only took a few sips of it, but now it was almost empty.

He tasted it and realized something.

That wasn't his glass of wine, it was Diluc's grape juice.

Of course, the taste was pretty similar, but he could feel the absence of alcohol in his drink.

(M/n) opened his mouth to call Diluc as he looked up, only to see him emptying his wine down his throat, setting the empty glass down, and now turning to clean some glasses before putting them in their cabinet.

Obviously, as Diluc was someone who dislikes the taste of alcohol and wasn't used to drinking it, he started to get a little tipsy quite fast.

"Diluc?" The red-haired set the clean glass down and turned around, his face flushing and his crimson eyes getting fuzzy. "Are you okay?" He asked him in a soft tone.

The male just chuckled, stepping closer to the counter and leaning over it. Diluc showed him a smirk, his gloved fingers holding his chin as he got dangerously close to his face. "I feel great, love... I feel so good~"

Something about the flirty tone in his voice made (M/n) gulp harshly, his skin getting covered in goosebumps.

"And... you know what else feels good?" His slightly slurred words made (M/n) tense as he looked into the crimson eyes that looked hazy. "When your cock fills me up, making me feel so... full~"

Okay, now (M/n) was one blushing and looking away. Diluc smirked and leaned closer to his ear, his hot breath making shivers run down (M/n)'s spine.

"I want you inside me right now, (M/n)... fill me with your thick cock~" at that point, (M/n)'s brain just wasn't working properly. He couldn't believe what he was hearing, it was just... really unexpected but also... extremely hot. "Would you please fuck me dumb with your cock, (M/n)?"

"Wait, Diluc... let's go home first, okay? Then I'll... think about it." Diluc frowned with a small pout on his lips, the sight made (M/n)'s heart pound. He just couldn't believe what some alcohol had turned Diluc into.

"We're alone here though, and... I want it, right now." Diluc finally let go of his chin, but he was now walking around the counter, approaching him with a slow, seductive walk.

He placed his gloved hands on (M/n)'s shoulders, sitting on his lap and leaning closer to his face.

"Come on, love, don't you wanna fuck me until all I can think about is how good your cock makes me feel? Won't you fuck me stupid, fill me with your cum and... breed me~?" (M/n) let out a small growl when he felt Diluc grinding their hips together, his hands holding tightly onto the red-haired's waist, trying to get him off as his body began reacting to the friction.

But Diluc was bigger and stronger than him, so there wasn't much he could do to get the male off. The male chuckled and wrapped his arms around (M/n)'s shoulders, placing his chin on top of his head, his hips grinding faster and rough, letting out small moans and low whines.

(M/n) had his face buried in Diluc's neck, his breathing turning uneven as some groans started leaving his mouth too, his grip on the red-haired's waist tightening. Diluc's moans soon started to get louder and with a higher pitch, his whines turning into whimpers.

"I can't... cum if you don't t-touch me, (M/n)... please~" reluctantly, Diluc unwrapped his arms from around (M/n)'s shoulders, reaching behind him to hold himself up with the counter, grinding his hips like he did whenever (M/n) wanted him to ride him. Diluc tilted his back, small whimpers leaving him as he tried to cum but just couldn't. "(M/...n)... please, to-touch me..."

His crimson eyes filled with tears and his red cheeks were enough to make (M/n) lose the little bit of control he had left.

Lowering his hands to Diluc's thighs he stood up, the stool falling on the ground as Diluc was now on top of the counter, his legs spread open. He smiled at (M/n), sticking his tongue out for the (h/c) haired male to suck on it, both of their tongues soon intertwining, eliciting lewd moans from Diluc.

(M/n)'s hand moved to undo Diluc's pants, pulling his leaking cock out but he refused to pleasure the red-haired male. He pulled Diluc down from the counter and made him turn around, pressing a hand on his back to make him bend down, his chest pressing on the bar counter.

With agile hands, (M/n) pulled Diluc's pants and underwear down to his knees, lifting his coat and grabbing his wrists to make him hold his cheeks spread apart while he got on his knees, gripping onto his meaty thighs as he neared his twitching hole. He circled his tongue around for a few seconds, making Diluc's body tremble at the sensation, before pushing it in, lapping around the warm, tight walls, coating the inside with his drool.

Diluc gripped tightly his own ass, his eyes rolling into the back of his head while drool started dripping down the corner of his mouth onto the counter. (M/n) felt how Diluc's body was shaking, his muscle walls tightening around his tongue as he fucked him with it, his drool starting to drip out of Diluc's entrance. Moving his hands around, (M/n) started gracing his nails gently on Diluc's swollen tip, causing an aggressive tremble on the male's body as he continued to, so slightly, please him. However, that gentle touch was enough for Diluc to reach an orgasm, it wasn't as good as he wanted, but he was okay with that for now.

Slowly, (M/n) took his tongue out, staring at Diluc's trembling thighs, his hands still holding his cheeks apart, his erection twitched inside his pants, making him growl with gritted teeth. His hands reached for the waistband of his pants, undoing his pants and pulling his erect cock out.

"Yes~, please... give me your cock~" he pleads while swaying his hips, his hole clenching around nothing. (M/n) took a deep breath while stepping closer to Diluc, aligning his erection with his wet entrance, slowly pushing it in, "It's so big~ I fucking love it..."

Diluc's tongue poked out of his mouth, moaning out shamelessly, begging (M/n) to breed him with his cock.

"Godamn it, Diluc... you're such a tease," (M/n) muttered, holding onto the red-haired's wrists together with one hand behind his back, rocking his hips back and forth in an even, slow pace to get Diluc used to him.

"Just m-move already... I'm so... full~, (M/n)..." he whined, rolling his hips back on (M/n)'s, successfully getting the friction he wanted as he fucked himself on the (h/c) haired's cock. "Fuck yes~, keep... fucking me l-like that."

(M/n) closed his eyes tightly, his jaw clenching, feeling how his pre-cum was coating Diluc's tight insides, wet sounds reaching their ears, and he was trying to hold in his orgasm.

His hips began thrusting faster and rougher, in an attempt to get Diluc to cum first.

"To-touch me, (M/n)... I c-can't-... I wanna c-cum, please~" Diluc muttered between whimpers, his hands struggling to break free from the male's grip.

(M/n) head in a moan as Diluc tightened around his cock and released his wrists, wrapping his arms around the red-haired's front, holding onto the base of his twitching dick and rubbing it rapidly in time with his thrusts.

"Ah! I-I'm go-gonna c... cum, k-keep going..." biting onto his bottom lip, (M/n) placed his free hand on Diluc's oozing tip, doing quick circle motions around his slit, causing Diluc's moans to turn into a loud cry of his name. "Y-your cock is... so fucking g-good, it's... hi-hitting such an am-amazing spot, ngh~"

Diluc's hips began moving back against (M/n)'s, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as his prostate was stimulated over and over again by that big cock he, practically, fell for. The way it made him feel made his head blank, his body trembling and covered in goosebumps, his cock twitching as his orgasm neared him.

But somehow, this orgasm was feeling a bit different than the one he had before, it was definitely stronger but there was a known sensation on his lower abdomen... he needed to pee? Right now?

Well, it wasn't like he was willing to stop (M/n), and he knew the male wasn't going to stop either way. He was able to feel how wet his insides were, coated in drool and pre-cum.

(M/n) gritted his teeth and released the base of Diluc's dick, still rubbing on his slit with the tip of his fingers, his now free hand reached for the red-haired male's ponytail, pulling it and causing him to arch his back.

With a small whimper, Diluc glanced at (M/n) with his crimson eyes, sight slightly blurry due to the tears of pleasure that had gathered in them. "(M/n)... c-cum inside me pl-please..." the (h/c) haired male fully stopped thrusting, completely inside of Diluc, making him gasp at the sensation. "M-...make me p... pregnant with y-your... cum~" he muttered, his crimson eyes shining under the light in the tavern.

(M/n) took a deep breath, his hand moving quicker on Diluc's tip, eliciting a higher moan to escape past his lips.

"I... I'm... cu-cumminghg~" let out whimpers, Diluc's body had an aggressive tremble before a clear, transparent liquid squirted out of his cock, his tongue hanging out as his mind went blank, tears dripping down his flushed face.

Staring at his fucked dumb expression, (M/n)'s hips started moving faster, reaching as deep as he could go, the wet, squelching sound of their skin slapping filled the empty tavern. His completely wet hand neared Diluc's lips, making him suck on his drenched fingers while he kept pulling on his long red hair.

"So... ghood~" Diluc managed to whine as his prostate got pounded mercilessly, his legs trembling and his mind fogged with only thoughts of the thick cock inside him, abusing him like the cockslut he was. His hand held onto (M/n)'s wrist, pulling his fingers out of his mouth, and turning his head to look at him, "C-... cum i-inside me, pl-please..."

With a deep growl, (M/n) held Diluc's chin and leaned closer, joining their lips in a hot, messy kiss, muffle whimpers reaching his ears. (M/n)'s thrusts started getting sloppy, moans and whines leaving his lips and being muffled in Diluc's mouth.

He pulled Diluc's ponytail harder, breaking their kiss and hiding his face in the space behind the red-haired's ear, panting heavily as his cock twitched inside the male.

Diluc's hands gripped tightly onto the counter, his mind clouded by the pleasure, unable to think coherently as his mouth was wide open, drool dripping down the corners of his lips. He was able to feel how hard and deep inside him (M/n) was, along with the twitching, so he tightened around him, wanting to milk him dry.

(M/n)'s voice started getting slightly louder, he was moaning out Diluc's name as his orgasm hit him.

With a last, rough, and deep thrust, he came inside Diluc, moving back and forth to prolong it, making sure that every single drop of his cum filled the male to the brim.

When he slowly began pulling out, Diluc was letting out soft whimpers, clenching his stretched entrance to prevent the stick, warm cum inside him from dripping out. (M/n) let go of his hair and he rested his worn-out body on top of the counter, his eyelids closing more and more by the second, a small smile on his face.

"I'm pr-pregnant with (M/n)'s b-baby now..." he mumbled before passing out.

Extended Ending.

After a long night of cleaning the tavern -again- and cleaning Diluc the best he could before laying him down on the spare room couch, (M/n) saw the sun slowly rising again.

He reached for his pocket watch, seeing that it was reaching five in the morning already. His (e/c) eyes looked at Diluc, who was peacefully sleeping on the same couch he used to sleep in before they started dating.

Those were hard times, having left his hometown, and travel to countless regions where he couldn't feel safe or at home, before finally reaching Mondstadt. (M/n) clearly remembers how he met Diluc, and how the male offered a place to stay, of course, it wasn't for free. That's how he started working for the taller male, living in that spare room in the tavern and they got to know each, before falling in love and confessing their love.

And now, here they were, fucking like crazy in their workplace. (M/n) wondered to himself if Diluc would remember anything when he wakes up.

My god, he did remember.

Ever since he woke up, Diluc had been feeling flustered, ashamed, and really awkward, his face flushed as he couldn't even greet his clients or serve drinks. God, he wouldn't even look at (M/n) in the eyes, remembering every single they did and that he said.

God, I'm such an idiot!

Of course, (M/n) wasn't oblivious to Diluc's behavior, smiling to himself whenever saw his blushing face getting darker and darker by the second, but still, even if he did look incredibly adorable, he decided not to tease the poor male.

[hansolmates]

a hero’s journey (m)

summary; jungkook and jisoo are the mightiest power couple. however, one drunken confession and that whole facade fades in an instant. you realize that maybe you need to break from your unvaried life for a bit and be the hero of your own love story pairing; jungkook x editor!reader (f) genre/warnings; best friend’s boyfriend au, slice of life, angst with a happy ending because im weak, pining pINING, everyone’s kind of a mess in their own sweet special way, alcohol use, mentions of ze weed, toxic relationships, mean friends, sex—slight dom!kook, food play, fingering, squirting, heavy use of the petname “pretty girl” bc im weak, strength kink, manhandling (oop!) w.c; 22.2k a/n; woof! my first fic for @goldenclosetnetwork​ 23 | jungkook’s birthday project! this goes out to all the closet romantics *ahem me cough* who doesn’t love pining between a cutie koo? a huge thank u for vivi @eerieedits​ for making this bbbBEAUTIFUL fic banner!  

prompt used: “I should’ve known.”

if you like this fic pls consider giving a like n’share🥺💜🥺💜

It’s so easy to ignore the world. 

Maybe it’s a young-adult thing, but it gets difficult fitting into the 9-to-5 and playing to satisfy bosses that don’t entirely understand your work ethic. Maybe it’s out of complacency, or fear. But you prefer to let the world flow around you and when you’re needed, you’ll act. You’ve reached that point in your life where you enjoy the little things, satisfied by an extra hour of overtime tacked onto your paycheck, a new fabric softener, or finding the perfectly squishy yoga mat. 

You’ve finally started feeling comfortable in your shoes, uncaring as to whether you’re single or drowning in college debt, happy to live a relatively stable life. You’re grateful. There’s nothing more than you need than your happiness, and the love of your friends and family. 

Namely, your best friend from college. Jisoo always joked about how you two “won the lottery” as dorm rooms in freshman year were determined by lottery. Pulling numbers 883 and 884, you and Jisoo snagged a corner spot of the dormitory, leaving you two utterly cramped but utterly close as the years went by. Six years later and it’s still the case, the two of you have grown into talented working ladies. While you may not be able to spend time with each other the same way you did in school, you still care for each other. 

So when Jisoo shows up teary with a rumpled dress shirt and her hair waterfalling out of this morning’s bun, you break out the good alcohol and season three of Jane the Virgin for her. 

After the liquid is warm in your cheeks and you’ve fawned enough over Micheal and Rafael’s love triangle, you let Jisoo ramble. 

Jisoo has downed a whole bottle of soju on her own, while you’ve decided to have a tasteful glass of wine. You’d rather be tired wine drunk than wasted on soju. 

“Jungkook and I had a fight,” she warbles, stuffing a handful of popcorn in her mouth, “it was totally stupid.” 

Your eyes flash, picturing Jisoo and Jungkook in quarrel. They’re the epitome of an Instagram-worthy couple, beautiful and deathly charming to a fault. They show nothing but kindness and sweetness to you whenever you third-wheel, not a lick of anger between them when you’re all together.

So a fight is something surprising. Jisoo and Jungkook, J-squared are a power couple. Saying their names next to each other just emits a sort of energy you can only akin to famous small screen couples like Troy and Gabriella or Cory and Topanga. Jisoo’s Instagram is belly full with sweet selfies of them together, the doe-eyed man always looking completely sweet and gentle to the woman in his arms.

You never piqued Jungkook as the type of guy who would pick a “stupid fight.” And you know Jungkook pretty well. 

Maybe a little too well. 

“He surprised me during my lunch break and he caught me talking to Doyoung and he thought I was flirting,” Jisoo is practically eating her sweater, her head falling between her flannel pyjama sleeves. 

“Doyoung, as in your ex Doyoung?” you raise a brow. 

She groans, glaring at you in earnest. “Not you, too! I told him it was ridiculous to get jealous, and then I told him how jealous I get when he’s around girls and I don’t need to tell him that,” she rolls her eyes, twisting her feet petulantly in her fuzzy socks, “but then you know what he says back?” 

You wince, swirling your wine glass, “That you’re crazy?” 

“That I’m crazy, exactly! How did you—” her bloodshot eyes zero in on you, where you’ve tucked yourself in the corner of the couch. You swirl the ruby liquid in your cup, watching the feet web around the cheap crystal, “you think I’m crazy too, don’t you?” 

You swallow your sigh, taking your time to finish your liquid in languid sips. Uneasy, you wish you could just sink through the couch in order to avoid this conversation. Jisoo’s heart is generally in the right direction, but in terms of emotions she has the kind of sensitivity that you prefer to ignore rather than tread. Jungkook is also equally emotional, but in a different way. He wears his heart on his sleeve, preferring to keep things straight as opposed to bottling it up like Jisoo. 

However the theoretic bottle has reached it’s brim and Jisoo’s tipping, fast. 

“I need to tell you something,” Jisoo is swerving, crawling like an infant on wobbly limbs to reach your corner of the couch. You almost stop her, tell her you can continue this conversation in the morning, it’s what you normally do when she drinks into a stupor. But tears are swimming in her glassy caramel eyes and she’s grappling onto your blanket, resting her head in her lap. 

Her glossy russet strands curtain her head, so you don’t see the expression on her face when she says her next words: 

“Jungkook told me he liked you senior year, and I told him you weren’t interested so I’d have a chance.” 

Wow. So that explains everything.

The memories that you’ve tried so hard to brush away, the feelings you’ve tried so hard and continue to try to suppress, are laid out in front of you on a rusted platter. You could laugh, you could fling the rest of the Pinot Grigio down your throat like fresh water on a hot day and call it a night. 

But instead you choke back your tears, and push her off because you’re hurt.  

Deep down you know you would’ve been less upset if she told you the week after Jisoo and Jungkook called it official. If you knew from the beginning, it would’ve been easier on your heart. But it's been over two years since the past, thinking you’ve been needlessly, stupidly, delusional in thinking that you could’ve possibly had a chance with Jungkook.

Because it could’ve been you. And the reason why Jisoo and Jungkook fought today? Now you know it’s because deep down, they know they’re each other’s second choice. 

You can’t even recall a time where Jungkook and Jisoo were together alone before they suddenly started dating, remembering how it used to be you and Jungkook before Jisoo found him one day in your shared apartment, utterly smitten. And now you know you weren’t delusional, because the feelings and the signals you two were exchanging in senior year was real. 

But it doesn’t stop the fact that over two years have passed. Two years of a serious relationship between Jisoo and Jungkook, and two years of you secretly loving him from an arm’s length. 

“You hate me,” Jisoo removes herself from you, voice trembling. The quick, dark part of your mind wants you to snap back of course I hate you. You’ve trusted Jisoo with your life all these years, she was the reason you got through college so gracefully, why you enjoyed the past seven years of your life. 

But the sentiment is stained, and all you can do is deliver a tired smile and stand up. “I don’t hate you,” you say, “I’m just, really overwhelmed. I can’t lie and say that I’m not hurt,” your fingers clutch the fake crystal in your grasp, and for once you’re thankful you’re not strong enough to break it, “but you two love each other now and there’s no point in dwelling in the ‘what-ifs’.” 

Now that you think about it, when was the last time Jisoo treated you like a best friend? You stare at your wine glass, thinking that the only time comfort is provided in this apartment is when Jisoo is upset, never when you’re upset. 

Jisoo bobs her head senselessly, agreeing to every word. It’s pathetic, seeing her on her knees and her eyes glimmering with the hope that you’d forgive her straightaway. She must feel awful. That’s good.  

You sigh, needing to be the bigger person. “You need to call Jungkook and tell him he has nothing to worry about though, after all, you two have history now. As much, if not more than Doyoung.” 

“Right,” she replies, biting her lip. It suddenly feels like you're talking to a wall, carrying a conversation that's long ended.

“As for us,” you have half a mind to slam your glass on the counter, but instead you give it a heavy hand, letting slowly thump to the coffee table, “I don’t think I want to see you two, for a while.” 

“Understandable.” 

“And I don’t want to help you move out anymore,” I just want you gone.  

“Right,” she whispers. The both of you will be completed with your lease in two months, and Jisoo and Jungkook have decided to move into Jungkook’s apartment. As for you, you haven’t decided as to whether you want to go through the whole process of moving out or looking for a new roommate. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so so fucking sorry. I just was insecure as fuck in college and Jungkook was the first person I met in a long time that helped me feel more… like me.”

You want to say that she's right, she’s selfish. Her excuses aren’t palpable anymore. It’s too late. But if you were in Jisoo’s shoes, you’d think this apology is mere crumbs in comparison to your friendship. Why isn't she trying harder? Maybe because she doesn't know any better. After all, you never told her what you felt for him has morphed into love. 

You don’t even have to ask as to whether she’ll tell Jungkook this or not, you now know honesty is not her style. 

Jisoo doesn’t get a goodnight and a drunken kiss on the forehead like she usually does whenever you two have your late night talks. Instead, she seals herself to her own demise as you slam the door to your bedroom, effectively shutting each other out. 

Work is a bitch the following morning. You’re like molasses, rolling out of bed despite the whole world and its mother telling you to go back to sleep. 

Your feet are killing you as you make your walk to work, deciding to wear a pair of red-backed heels so you can stomp your way through your day. 

Your Wusband (Work-Husband) Kim Namjoon matches you step-for-step, eyes glued to his phone as he catches you on the sidewalk. “Woman on a mission,” he comments absentmindedly, eyes glued to his phone as he follows the click of your shoes to your favorite cafe. 

You spare a glance to your right hand-man, eyeing him appreciatively at his dedication to your morning routine. He’s your favorite co-worker, one who keeps you on time to your meetings and keeps you sane when you want to pull your hair out and dig out a coffin in your little cubicle. Namjoon’s long legs always seem to catch up with you during your workweek, whether it’s to get coffee in the morning or to talk shit about the latest gossip in the breakroom. 

The bell of the glass door tinkles in your ears as you enter the café, relatively busy for the morning rush. While you wait in line, Namjoon ticks off your activity list for today. 

“Meeting with Victoria is cancelled this morning,” you groan in relief, your supervisor Victoria always scares the shit out of you even when she’s not doing anything, “and just the usual proofing and whatever we have to do on the third floor today—can I get a large iced Americano with a pump of caramel? Thanks,” Namjoon moves aside so you can throw your order in as well, “and after work could you stop by Vernon’s? He took a sick day today and he has most of the manuscripts for the next issue.” 

“Done and done,” you swipe your card in the dip, tucking your card away in your zippered pouch. “So like, do Americanos taste any good? Like it’s literally watered down espresso how do you pay to drink watered down tar—” 

Jungkook’s at the pick-up counter. Jungkook’s at the pick-up counter swirling stray sugar crystals with his thumb and putting them in his napkin. What an impeccable display of Virgo energy, absentmindedly cleaning things he has no business doing. You scoff to yourself, recalling this morning that Jisoo got off the phone this morning with a stupid smile on her face. From the mirror image that Jungkook is excluding while he’s smiling on his cellphone like a smitten teenager, it seems like they’ve made up. 

Nevertheless the hurt from last night is still fresh in your bones, and you force yourself to look away despite the fact that your morning pick-me-ups are almost done and are sitting tauntingly next to Jungkook’s elbow. Does he really need to learn against the counter like he owns it? Hair slightly damp from the shower, your heart beats a little faster at the fresh image.His biceps are straining against his charcoal lycra long sleeve, which is slightly damp from his morning run. Snap out of it! You are a mature, working woman who does not swoon in the view of bulgy muscles, especially when the man who owns those muscles is taken. Suddenly there’s a call of your name, and two cups and a paper bag are put in front of Jungkook. 

He blinks, and you immediately pale when you see his eyes flit over your name surrounded by your favorite coral pink beverage. You feel struck as his head perks up at the name and he narrowly makes eye-contact—

“The fuck you’re doing,” Namjoon gripes, shoving your guava iced tea and croissant in your chest, “standing there like a moron as if we don’t got shit to do today.” 

“Sorry,” you mumble, pulling at the brown paper bag to tug a piece of croissant between your teeth. The warmth, buttery pastry melts in your tastebuds. Ah, bread. Nothing like a little bit of carb to make you feel better. 

You’re suddenly thankful for Namjoon’s gargantuan torso from effectively blocking you from Jungkook, hauling you out of the coffee shop like a petulant toddler. He doesn’t even give you a chance to catch another secret look at the object of your affections, making sure you’re back in your work game before you enter the building. Even if he doesn’t know it, Kim Namjoon’s always got your back. 

Or in today’s case, breathing down your back. 

Without your third editor and a hard deadline coming up by the end of the week, you and Namjoon are working in tandem throughout your 9-5 to complete drafts for Big Hit Publishings Arts & Media section. Both of you take turns to bring snacks and feed each other, feeling like reading zombies and slaves to your desk as you remind each other to breathe throughout the whole ordeal. 

In complete honesty you don’t totally mind. Namjoon is a great partner-in-crime, and you both love what you do and do a damn good job at it. You call it “Buzzfeed but with Benefits.” 

And at least for today, you could quell the feelings in your chest from last night and this morning. Sure, you’ve always been okay with the pining you’ve had for Jungkook. The feeling comes and goes whenever it pleases, and since yesterday you’ve been okay with just admiring from afar and being their third wheel. 

However, now the feelings are acutely comparable to a third-degree burn with the help of Jisoo playing with fire. 

With a quiet exhale, you concede in your gaming chair (because it’s just so damn comfy to keep in the office.) You’re an adult and not a petty child, and you will not let this piece of information derail you from your calm, stable lifestyle. 

But honestly? Fuck Jisoo. 

“Let’s go, buckaroo,” Namjoon logs off for you, the cinnamon-y smell of his shampoo effectively waking up your senses, “it’s already 5:30. And you said you’d stop by Vern’s to get his drafts.” 

“Right,” you blurt, mindlessly putting away your papers and snack wrappers in your bag. You can’t believe the whole day’s gone already. 

“Maybe you don’t even have to go to his apartment. Just text him or whatever.” 

“Sounds good, thanks Joonie.” 

“And y/n?” Namjoon gives you a look that causes you to force a terse smile, one you give one too many times to higher-ups at work. It isn’t to insult Namjoon by any means, but you guys are partners, the kind that tell way too much but hide just enough to remain close from afar. “Take it easy, will you?” 

“I will,” you concede, stretching your arms, “I’m def overdue for a massage.” 

“You don’t look sick,” you scoff, taking in the casual look your co-editor boasts as he leans casually against the doorway. 

Hansol Vernon Chwe is the epitome of fluffy, decked out in large electric blue sweats and his russet brown hair curling softly above his porcelain skin. Not only is he your co-editor, but also a friend from college. Not to the extent that you were with Jisoo and Jungkook, but you operated in the same publishing club and managed to get partnering internships that made you the co-workers you are today. You see a little bit of that collegiate youth in Vernon right now, as he looks well-rested and fresh faced despite the fact he probably didn’t apply moisturizer or drink enough water today.

“But you kinda do,” he tilts his head, noting the heels that adorn your feet, “you’re wearing your sexy shoes today, that means something’s going on.” 

“Gee, ever the ladies’ man,” you scoff, getting under his arm to invite yourself inside, “all I want is the completed interviews so we can pick out the best parts and draft them. Then I’ll be on my merry way.” 

“Oh c’mon, we’ve been talking nothing but work this whole damn month. What happened to college when we’d talk hours about House Hunters, the safeness of library sex, that little furry thing in Lincoln Hall’s urinal? That was prime conversation.” 

“Vern, I’m just here for the drafts,” you sit at his tiny kitchen table, glaring at his open laptop.  

“You could’ve just emailed me,” he teases, twisting around his chair so he can rest his arms against the back. “But since you’re here, that means you probably wanna spill some tea but you’re too upset to admit it.” 

“If I talk will you stop talking like that?” 

“Yes. Give me the juicy details. Need some juicy juice.” 

“Nevermind, get out of my apartment.” 

“Uh, this is my apartment.” 

“My point still stands,” you make another face at his outfit, “you look like the blueberry girl from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.”  

Vernon purses his lips, scooting his chair closer to yours. He’s unfazed by your insult, far used to your defenses being higher up than Fort Knox. He looks up at you with his pretty lashes and deceivingly sweet caramel eyes, leaning his head along the backrest. “C’mon, tell me what’s bothering you,” he says in a gentle tone, coaxing you open. 

He always knew how to do it for you, a little bit of sweet talking and that clear open gaze always reduced you to shreds in university. For him, it always took a good meal and some sci-fi movies to get him to talk. That must be why you’ve stayed friends for so long, you two knew how to connect. 

Finally you crack, kicking off your shoes and hoping the sharp end doesn’t land on his cat. You hear Luna meow in protest but she’s got great reflexes. Unbuttoning the first three buttons of your stuffy blazer, you air out your cleavage, not caring about Vernon’s gaze. He’s seen worse. 

“Remember Jeon Jungkook? Majored in graphic design.”

“Ah, yeah. The guy who like, lived at the gym and the dining hall? Haven’t seen him in a minute,” his eyes seem to glaze over the glory days, reminiscing in the simultaneous safetynet and stressor that made up your early twenties, “didn’t you guys hit it off real well? Like I remember you ditched like—three sci-fi nights to study with him. Who even studies at 1AM?” 

“Yeah, we did,” and you can’t help but frown at as you remember the 7-Eleven runs, the utter warmth you felt when he would wipe a stray rice grain off your cheek, and how happy you felt to laugh so much with him it hurt, “but uh. Jisoo got drunk last night, because they had a fight. And she sort of admitted to me that she sabotaged our relationship and told Jungkook I wasn’t interested in him so they could start dating. Two years later and here we are.” 

A pause. And then, “Want a beer?” 

Vernon doesn’t even wait for a response when he gets up, bare feet slapping against the tile as he prepares some drinks and snacks for you. 

“That’s pretty fucked up,” he practically sing-songs among the cacophony of popcorn pop-pop-popping in the microwave. The aroma of buttery kernels is all but a relief, reminding you of movie matinees, “and like, she knew you liked him! It was totally obvious, even if you didn’t spell it out for her.” 

“Yeah,” you practically gushed to Jisoo those past two months, every waking moment with heart-eyes over the talented graphic designer Jeon Jungkook. 

“I can’t believe Jisoo would keep that a secret from you for so long. Like, can you even trust her anymore?” 

“Don’t know, was she even my bestfriend or was I just a good roommate to her?” you ask. Vernon is holding two beers in one hand and a bag of popcorn by the tips of his fingers in the other, careful to not burn himself. Opening the beer for you, you thank him and take a long swig.

“Well, good thing you’re still not in love with him or whatever. That would really suck. Unless—”

The look on your face says it all. You’re practically snotting into your bottle, your face tucked into your chin as you fight hard to stop the tears you’ve been suppressing for the last two years. “Don’t give me your pity,” you garble, turning away from the sad look Vernon gives you as he wraps his arms around you. 

The tears are soft and gentle, flowing freely onto the cotton of Vernon’s arms as you let it out. 

“‘M’not,” he concedes, rubbing his chin into your neck. He really is a lot like Luna, just like his  cat ready to give you affection. “Let’s just, get some take-out and watch Hamilton or something.” 

He lets you wear his matching sweat suit, lime green, as you order Thai food and rap along to Hamilton’s sick beats. Vernon does a better job keeping the flow, but you’re having a good time being his hype man as he parades around the living room like it’s 1776. 

You go home that night around ten o’clock, feeling noticeably lighter and more relaxed. Be that it may you are still wearing the sweatpants and heels ensemble, you feel comforted. 

The apartment is quiet when you walk in, not a single light turned on. You get a slice of the city lights bleeding in from the organza curtains, which allow you to kick off your heels and hobble to where you think the kitchen counter is. 

Today is Jisoo’s day to cook dinner. You can tell she decided to cook today from the faint smell of Japanese curry and a small unwashed plate in the sink. Whenever it was someone’s turn, they usually left an extra bowl or serving in it for the other roommate when they got home. Unsurprisingly, you find no such thing on the counter or in the fridge. 

You’re not upset, but rather decided. If Jisoo is going to let your friendship fade off with no intention of redeeming herself, then you should give her the same amount of energy back. You realize now the apology she gave last night wasn’t for you, but empty words to make her feel better and mend whatever toxicity she’s created in her own relationships. People like Namjoon and Vernon reminded you that you didn’t need to try and earn other people’s friendships. 

It’s disappointing, but the feeling is all but too familiar. 

If you could describe Jisoo as anything, it would be the color pink. Blushing, beautiful, beguiling pink. The way she flushes when Jungkook does an uncalled for grandiose gesture of romance, or when she wears a hot magenta number when she’s hosting a fashion show. Jisoo is the personification of La vie en rose, unbothered and unabashed.  

But now all you see when you think of Jisoo? Nothing but red. 

With that, you go in your room and untack the polaroid of you and Jisoo at the carnival last month, putting it away in your junk drawer to be forgotten. 

“You’re running away.” 

“Am not.” 

“Are too,” that interjection comes from Vernon’s roommate, Jung Hoseok. He’s been watching you two bicker over work for the past hour while he plays GTA5, failing to get a good hard carry because you and Vernon are too busy discussing whatever finishing touches you need on your final draft. 

“No one asked for your opinion, Jung,” you throw over your shoulder. 

“I’m just saying,” Hoseok flicks his wrist and nabs a tank, “you never wanna go home, you eat all our food, and I found your pyjamas in my laundry basket.” 

“You said your basket was the blue one,” you hiss under your breath. 

“The navy blue one,” Vernon chirps unhelpfully, “not the electric blue one.” 

Hoseok hits “save” on his campaign, disconnecting from his PS4 and stretching his lean limbs. “I mean, we could use a third roommate,” Hoseok jokes, getting up from the couch and grabbing a handful of M&Ms from your bowl, “you do make a bomb mac n’cheese.” 

“Appreciated,” you relent when Hoseok presses a kiss to your cheek and tells Vernon he’ll be back late working, leaving you and Vernon alone in their shared apartment. When Hoseok is gone, you stare at the door, tilting your head, “y’know,” you remark, “Hoseok’s a cool guy, why did I never hang out with him in college?” 

“Because he was stoned the majority of senior year and you just didn’t vibe with that crowd.” 

“Oh, yeah.” 

“But, you’re trying to change the subject,” Vernon carefully untacks your hands from your keyboard, knowing that you two have already been done with this month's issue and you’re now just mindlessly re-reading emails. “You’ve been here since Thursday, and now it’s Saturday. And as much as Hoseok and I like having you around so you can wake me up before we go to work, it’d be nice to throw me a bone and let me in on what you’re thinking right now.” 

You frown, noting Vernon’s large hand covering your laptop closed. He isn’t going to remove his hand anytime soon unless you talk. “Jungkook’s helping Jisoo pack up her half of the apartment this weekend and I don’t want to be there,” you say, short and simple. 

“You miss her?” 

“Yeah,” you admit honestly. You hate this version of yourself, unable to even look at Jisoo nowadays despite the fact you’re under the same roof for the remainder of the month. It’s hard to believe that the roommate from six years ago finally got under your skin, cancelling out all the years of friendship because of one silly relationship, “sad she doesn’t want to be my friend anymore.” 

“Did you talk about it?” 

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you reply despondently, “if she cared at all she would’ve to apologize again by now.”

Vernon figures, and his neutral expression doesn’t change as he leads you to the couch, brushing away Hoseok’s things so you two can get comfy. You busy yourself with the remote, exiting the PS4 homepage to scroll Netflix. 

“And are you trying to get over him?” 

“I mean, yeah,” you have been, but it’s a little hard when you’ve been contentedly pining. It was easy to keep your feelings bottled up because you originally thought Jisoo and Jungkook were meant to be for each other for the past two years. Now you're still pining but ruefully bitter at Jisoo.

“It’s not fair, y’know. She broke girl code, bros before hoes. Or is it chicks before dicks?” Vernon shakes his head at his lame attempt to get you to smile, which works anyway because Vernon’s silly and his sense of humor always gets you a little loose. “It’s your house too, you shouldn’t feel like you don’t belong there.” 

“Well I was supposed to help her move out this weekend, and I’d prefer it if Jungkook didn’t know what was going on.” 

“What?” your friend furrows his thick brows together, tucking his hands under his knees as he leans into your stubborn expression. “You’re gonna let Jungkook go on with his life not knowing that his relationship is based on a lie. That’s not cool. Even if you’re into him, he’s still your friend.” 

Damn, when did Vernon get so good at giving advice? Truth is Vernon’s always been good at dishing advice, you’ve just been privy to what you wanted to reveal to him. The first year or so being together outside of college was always about work, saving each other’s asses to ensure you two got that promotion and aim higher and higher. Now that goal is out of the way, and what better way to reconnect over some shoddy romance straight out of a Degrassi special? 

“I know,” you hug your knees tight to your chest, “when I’m ready, okay?” 

“Okay,” he agrees, because he’s not a pusher, “do you know the best way to get over someone?” 

“What?” 

“The best way to get over someone, is to get under someone," he emphasizes that point with his hands, sliding one under the other with a wiggle of his thick brows.

You slap him on the shoulder, “Vern, you disgust me.” 

“But it works!” 

“I’m not going on Tinder to find a fuckbuddy.” 

“You don’t have to look on Tinder or Tumble.” 

“Bumble.” 

“Whatever,” and his eyes flicker to his lap, where his pale fingertips turn red as he grips the edge of a throw pillow. "If you really don't wanna find someone, I can help." 

Is Vernon offering himself up? He is offering to fuck your brains out in the hope that you could inevitably fuck out your interest in Jungkook? Your eyes flicker over to Vernon's form on the couch, who's tucked in the couch just as you are. 

It’s true that you find Vernon attractive, and to some extent he definitely finds you attractive as well otherwise he wouldn’t have suggested the idea. It’s just that in college you never viewed him in that kind of light, probably because you were always so caught up in Jungkook. But tonight you can’t seem to ignore the eagerness hidden in Vernon’s carmine gaze, and how shiny and touchable his chocolate locks look under the setting sun. 

“I don’t want our friendship to change,” you reply slowly, furrowing your brows. “I appreciate it, but I don’t know. It sounds like a temporary fix.” 

“Can’t knock it if you don’t try it,” and out of curiosity, you don’t shy away when Vernon leans over to you, squeezing himself between the couch so he can tuck you in his arms. “I want to help you, but only if you want to.” 

Maybe it’s the frustration you feel with Jisoo, Jungkook’s ignorance, or the fact that you haven’t felt physical pleasure in such a long time, but you soften into Vernon’s hold. He’s relaxed, nothing betraying him as he waits patiently for your answer. You’ve always admired how much he kept up his “cool as a cucumber” demeanor. He isn’t the type of guy to let life pass him by, but he’s the kind of person who walks along life, embracing the ups and downs like old friends. He’s the ocean waves that crest along the shore, pushing and pulling along without a care in the world. 

He’s the textbook opposite of Jeon Jungkook, which is why you give Vernon the okay to lean in and press his lips against yours. 

His kisses are soft, and he takes great care in making sure you’re comfortable with this new step in your relationship. It almost feels as if you’re cutting corners, and you can’t help but feel a little guilty that you revel in the way Vernon’s hands trail under your too-large t-shirt. 

The pleasure you’ve ached for is there, bubbling low in the pit of your belly. It’s hard to get you out of your mind however, because this man isn’t the one you love. His kisses hold no power, only brief reprieve. Your heart doesn’t palpitate and your palms don’t sweat, you’re just languid. 

You’re greedy and selfish, but you remind yourself that it’s okay to allow yourself of these freedoms, even for a little bit. As Vernon finds your sweet spot that has you rolling your hips against his, you find that temporary fix isn’t a bad start at all. 

When you trudge back to your apartment that night after much reluctance, your face is still flushed and you think you smell a little too much like Vernon’s cologne. But the fact that still stands is that you're satiated, and you feel a tiny percent closer to moving on. 

The television is glowing with a terrible reality TV show, angry brides upset over cake layers or whatever. Jungkook and Jisoo have fallen asleep on the couch, surrounded by half-empty boxes. Jungkook has his arm lazily over Jisoo, her petite body fitting perfectly between his chest and the crook of his neck. 

You scoff when you spy Jisoo's bedazzled manicure digging into Jungkook's bicep, as if someone's going to take him away if she doesn't hold tight.

With stiff muscles you spare one look at Jungkook, ignoring the pang in your chest as you weave between boxes to turn the TV off. Barely an iota of your feelings have dissipated since your previous tryst with Vernon not an hour ago. Looking at Jungkook brings it all back, unfortunately. You suppose the feelings will pass with time. The soft hum of the television ceases, and you’re bathed in a room that feels dark and empty, despite the apparent life in the room. 

There’s some bleary talk coming from the couch as you walk to your bedroom, and if Jungkook is sleepily mumbling your name in question, you pretend you don’t hear. 

“So, where’s y/n? I thought she was going to help us pack.” 

It’s an innocent enough question, as Jungkook scans the corner of the living room hallway that leads to the bedrooms. You haven’t come out yet. He knows that you love sleeping in on the weekends, but he hopes the smell of fresh food will coax you to the table. His pan is sizzling in protest, telling Jungkook to quit talking and flip the hashbrowns. He's fried up three, in the hopes you’d be up for some crispy potatoes. He knows how much you love potatoes, especially at 2AM when you’re craving fries and a McFlurry combo. 

Instead Jisoo mutters, “You toasted too much bread, you know I don’t eat bread like this,” she’s pulling slice by slice out of the toaster, until there’s a stack of six golden toasts in the middle of the kitchen table. 

A little part of him wishes to quell the precursor to the argument there. It would be so easy for Jungkook to say, “the extras are for me” because he’s trying to gain weight, and that would be that. 

Instead he continues with his unanswered question and replies honestly, “I made extra toast for y/n, babe. She was supposed to help us pack but I haven’t seen her all weekend.” But he’s pretty sure you came home last night, unless that was his imagination. 

Jisoo pulls a carafé of apple juice out of the fridge, pouring the amber liquid into two glass cups. “Ah, she said she had some last minute things to do for work. Y’know, Big Hit always wants a big hit.” 

He chuckles, tilting his head as Jisoo gives him a small smile from the kitchen table. Jisoo is always good at cheesy jokes. “She must love her job, huh.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Her articles are really good, too,” the air smells like butter and Italian seasoning, as he places one hash brown on Jisoo’s plate, and two on his. He knows you edit in the Arts & Media section, and loves how you make it a point to include video games and modern graphics when it’s deemed appropriate. “She did a piece on the evolution of RPG and I thought her commentary was really spot-on.” 

He brings breakfast over to the table, while Jisoo places two slices of toast on his plate, one buttered and one with strawberry preserves. Breakfast is a quiet, but peaceful affair. Jungkook takes note of how Jisoo takes extra long to complete her meal, her fork creating ribbons in her little blob of magenta jam. He allows himself to complete his first hashbrown and a slice of toast before asking the difficult question. 

“Are you and y/n okay?” and he also takes note when Jisoo’s ministrations on her jelly stop, as she looks up at him with her big brown eyes. 

“We’re fine,” she insists, “just normal roommate issues, I promise.” 

“Maybe I should text y/n,” Jungkook says, pulling out his phone. “Lemme help you fix this, wouldn’t want you and her in a bad place when you’re about to move out.” 

“Baby, why are you so concerned about y/n?” Jisoo croons while his thumb hovers over your contact, his screen showing a two-year old selfie you two took during a study session early on in your friendship. He can’t remember the last time you two took a picture together out of spite, one without Jisoo. Jisoo’s hand pulls him away from his phone, rubbing small circles between his palm. 

He wants to ask, why aren’t you? But he sees the terseness in Jisoo’s smile, as her eyes fix between the interlocked fingers. He has a feeling he’s hovering somewhere he isn’t allowed to be in. Maybe it really is roommate stuff and it’s none of his business, but he feels a little insulted being left out because you and Jungkook are just as much best friends as you were in college. 

Or are you? 

This question plagues him throughout the day, and when Jungkook packs enough boxes for the weekend and says he needs to go home, Jisoo for once doesn’t argue. Normally Jisoo would cling to him like a koala, murmur simultaneously adorable and dirty things in his ear and lead him to her bedroom to coop up for hours on end. But Jisoo says she’s tired and needs some alone time, which is also fine. 

He doesn’t feel like going home, and instead heads straight to the gym. A couple pumps wouldn’t hurt, and it would clear his head. It’s nearly five in the evening when his body is thrumming with the afterglow of his post-workout, and he decides to take a little cool down in the mall and treat himself to a smoothie. 

It must be kismet when he sees you coming out of the bookstore, looking a little winded but no less professional in your beige blazer set and rose gold iPad. Whenever he hung around your apartment with Jisoo and you’d come home from work, he’d make it a point to acknowledge your plethora of multicolored skirt-suits. He never needs to be professional in his place of work, and admires how much effort you put in. 

“Hey!” he jogs up to you, and he catches the way your shoulders jump at his voice. “We missed you today.”

Your smile curls into something dry, and you twist your spine like rusty hinges to face him. In turn, his smile dims a little, wondering if he’s doing something wrong. Maybe you’re tired? He catches the line of sweat that glistens your baby hairs, and how your hair is done up but has fallen a few centimeters with some pieces falling out. 

“Jungkook,” you exhale, “lifting boxes wasn’t enough of a workout?” 

“You know me,” he replies stiffly, hiking his backpack higher upon his shoulder. Why does this conversation feel so awkward? “So, finishing up work? Sucks you have to work on a Sunday.” 

“Ah, it wasn’t so bad,” you face relaxes a little as you explain your work, “it was children’s day at the bookstore and they were watching Disney movies. I’m writing a piece on how I believe Ratatouille is Pixar’s magnum opus. Interviewed some kids, I wanted an expert opinion.”  

“Ratatouille is the superior film,” he declares with a firm nod, “after all, anyone can cook.” He revels in the small smile he manages to retrieve from you, immediately understanding the inside joke. If he came out of the gym five minutes earlier, he probably would’ve been able to catch you in the bookstore. What a shame, he would’ve loved to see you play around with the kids. 

At the mention of food, the mall manages to silence itself enough for him to catch the grumbling coming from your stomach. He laughs when your cheeks heat. 

“I was on my way to get some smoothies,” he jabs a thumb in the direction of the food court, “wanna catch up and get a bite?” 

“Oh, I don’t know, I have a lot of work to edit,” disappointment pangs in his chest at your easy rejection, but he ignores it, “I kinda wanna save some money too, still not sure if I’m staying in the apartment after Jisoo moves.” 

He doesn’t know what compels him to take your shoulders and wheel you in the direction of the food court, much to your protest and whines. “C’mon, explain to me why Ratatouille is the magnum opus—I need to defend why The Incredibles is superior. I’ll treat you to dinner.” 

“What? I can pay for my own food—” 

“And I can’t treat my best friend to a nice meal once in a while?” 

That has you stopping in your tracks, and Jungkook nearly barrels his chest into your head if not for the grippy soles of his Adidas Ultraboosts. He can’t see your face, but his hands note how your muscles cord tightly between the cotton of your blazer. 

He doesn’t understand why you’re so tense. Was it because he called you his best friend? Well, you are? At one point he felt that way, early on in college. The position just stuck with you. And when Jisoo told him you weren’t interested, he was perfectly fine with the platonic relationship. It was nice to have someone to talk media and video games to, someone not as chaotic as Jimin and someone not as deterred as Yoongi. 

Although, maybe as of late he hasn’t been so much of a friend. It’s no one’s fault, he’s been caught up with work and Jisoo’s move, he hasn’t said so much as a “hey how are you” when you’re around. He can’t blame you. 

Suddenly his mind blanks, the mall fading away as he focuses on how small you look as your eyes dart between the parking lot and the food court. Jisoo and Jungkook have been so caught up on each other lately, that he fears you’re starting to separate yourself.

“Um, this place is good,” you tug him by the elbow and lead him to a fast food joint. 

When he picks up both your orders and comes over to your saved table, you’re talking animatedly on the phone. You’re laughing, looking at Jungkook as if he’s the one intruding and you’re muttering a hushed “sorry” as you continue the tail end of the conversation. 

“Yes, Joonie. Go with section two, I know my shit. I’m your Work Wife for a reason, Umji in PR could never compare,” you’re giggling like you’re five years younger, and Jungkook feels stuck in a timelapse. 

He watches you go, throwing around names and terms that he’s so lost on but so desperate to understand. He knows nothing about your life other than the one that’s tied with Jisoo, which is a damn shame. Since when did he inevitably downgrade you from “best friend” to “his girlfriend’s roommate?” 

“I’m sorry,” you turn your phone over and push it to the side, giving Jungkook a smile as well, albeit weaker, “let’s dig in!” 

To his relief the dinner goes as good as it should be. You have your tray practically overflowing at the seams, all on Jungkook’s dime. It has his heart swelling with pride, he hasn’t seen you eat in a long time. There’s fries spilling out from the corners, and two sandwiches because you couldn’t decide between a chicken sandwich and a burger. 

Food gets you amicable, and he doesn’t mind when he does most of the talking. You’re engrossed in his talk, lettuce hanging out of your mouth as you’re rapt with attention as he recalls a story that happened at work recently with Mingyu. You ask questions in all the right places and he sucks up all your attention like a happy pill, and it feels nice to be able to lead a conversation for once. 

“Jeez, I’m getting the burger sweats,” you giggle to yourself, and his smile brightens at your positive change in attitude. Food always helps. 

When you remove your thick high-collar blazer, that’s when he sees it. 

“Seeing someone?” he asks, eyes flickering curiously towards the violet bruises that bloom across your neck. 

“What–oh,” you have the audacity to look embarrassed, hands clutching your neck like a shield, “no, just a hookup.” 

A messy hookup, too. Unless you had a thing for showing off marks, which doesn’t seem to be the case. “Didn’t peg you for someone who hooks up,” he says more to himself than you, but you catch him on his impulse jab. 

Your eyes narrow and your defenses go up, “I’m trying to get over someone,” you snip back, busying your hands by crushing up your greasy sandwich wrappers. 

“Am I allowed to state my opinion?” 

“Since you asked so politely, no.” 

He sighs, “I just don’t think that’s the best way to get over someone,” heck, Jungkook doesn’t even know who exactly you’re trying to get over. He just knows that you’re far too smart and independent to let yourself resort to such matters. 

“It isn’t, but it’s really the best option as of now,” you reply curtly. 

And his gaze saddens as he sees you fold your blazer over your arm, indicating that your time is up. Jungkook is aware the comment he made is out of line, and it weakens him knowing that you don’t even want to pick a fight with him. He can’t even find it in himself to apologize properly. 

He doesn’t know if he’s more sad that you’re pining over someone unattainable or upset at himself for not knowing you’ve been harboring feelings for someone. If you really think hooking up is your only option, you must be really hung about whoever you’re into as of late. 

“If it’s worth anything,” Jungkook adds, wanting to leave on a high note, “fuck that guy. He clearly doesn’t deserve you.” 

A small, secret smile plays on your lips, “Yeah, I like to believe that.” 

“I’m anxious,” Namjoon’s mantra makes the whole energy in the room wobbly, paired with the fact the two of you are squished between cardboard boxes as Jungkook aimlessly moves things around like a Tetris screen. 

The only time you feel remotely comfortable basking in your home is when Jisoo is gone. Oh-so conveniently is the Big Hit building undergoing maintenance today, so you and Namjoon have decided to work from home in your apartment. Although you thought by now that Jisoo’s boxes would be long gone and tucked away in Jungkook’s place, instead you’re living in an episode of Ed, Edd and Eddy and the cardboard is practically wall-to-wall. You also thought by now that Jungkook would have no reason to show up unannounced anymore, but apparently that’s not the case. 

“I have, anxiety,” Namjoon adjusts his glasses for the nth time this afternoon, brain not fixed enough to focus on the screen of his chrome MacBook, “anxiety, anxiety. I can’t right now. I need my weighted blanket and a pillow.” 

“Namjoon, I can get both of those for you if we just send in this last spread,” you coo gently, as if placating a baby. You make brief eye contact with Jungkook from the other side of the room, his lips quirking in amusement as he stacks a box of clothes by the kitchen. 

“Do you feel my palms? My palms, they’re like a fucking fountain you need to feel them—” your Wusband approaches you like a zombie, leaning over you and tripping over his criss-crossed legs before he topples over you. 

“Blegh, get off of me you sweat giant!” you cry with a good-natured laugh, although the grip of Namjoon’s palms under your shoulders are damp and slimy, “Joon, I can’t get you your blanket if you’re crushing my boobs.” 

Namjoon finally relents, untacking himself to rest his chin on your glass coffee table. “Fine.” 

“Look over the last column and I’ll bring your blanket, okay?” 

Pushing yourself off the ground, you shuffle your way out of the living room through the maze of boxes and into the hallway. It feels like your apartment is less of an apartment and more of a storage space when you’re trapped in-between two lines of boxes, and Jungkook effectively blocking you from entering your room. He was just in the living room but now he’s come from the linen closet, standing between the entrance of your room. 

“Sorry,” he pops his head out from a smaller box, one filled with designer costume jewelry. 

“It’s fine,” you chirp, barely making eye contact as you shuffle over the boxes. 

Your toe drags over the lid of one of the open boxes in an attempt to move diagonally. You nearly crash your face into the hardwood if not for Jungkook’s arm stretching out to catch you. In seconds he manages to catch all your weight in one hand, pulling you to him with your hip pressed against his. Your breath traps itself in your neck. Your subconscious fears that if you speak now, you’ll babble about how attractive it is that he’s able to catch you as easily as grabbing a light sheet of paper. 

“Careful,” his voice rumbles in his throat as he regards you with a wan smile. 

Your “thanks” is barely uttered as you slip into your room, heaving your weighted blanket and a pillow in your arms to let Namjoon borrow. 

The burgundy quilted fabric is hunched over your shoulder, draped around your body so it’s easier for you to carry on your back. You try to eradicate the memory of Jungkook’s arms, lean and strong as he held you to him moments before.

Ugh, you thought messing around with Vernon would stop your silly pining. It seems that it’ll take more than a couple rounds to satiate your curiosity. For such a kind guy, Jungkook seems like a wolf in sheep’s clothing when it comes to the bedroom. 

You can imagine him being so kind in the beginning, coaxing you to wan and bend to his every wish and command. And then when you keen a little too hard at the attention, you bet a switch would flip and he’d grab you—

The blanket flops around your back, and you’re sorely reminded that you’re thirsting over a taken man, yet again.  

Jungkook makes it extremely difficult for him to be hateable. It’s by nature that he’s just so damn likeable. Heck, he’s pretty much packed seventy percent of the things Jisoo should be packing right now. 

Making sure not to trip again, on your feelings and your blanket, you successfully reach a tired Namjoon. You tuck your koala-shaped pillow under your co-editor’s arms, and drape the heavy blanket over him like a cape. He’s giving you a thumbs up and a toothless smile, the previous meltdown overcome as he focuses on finishing the last of today’s work. He’s slipped on some noise-cancelling earphones, presumably filled with generic coffee-house music or rain playlists. 

Wordlessly you go to your nook to prepare some tea. It’s getting late and a warm cup would distract you from the impending deadline. Despite the fact that you and Namjoon are 99% of the way done, his previous freak-out has you on live-wire and you could use a little caffeine. 

Placing three mugs on the counter you call, “Jungkook, tea?” 

“Yes please,” you stiffen when you feel Jungkook magically appear right behind you, his head peering over your shoulder, “with milk and honey.” 

Deciding to give Jungkook the beehive-shaped mug because it’s very on-brand for him, you begin to steep the leaves in your kettle while he spoons the honey. 

“So,” his words are slow as the drip of honey, the amber goo taking its time to descend into his mug as it falls from the dipper. “Is that the guy you’re trying to get over?” 

Jungkook lifts his brows towards Namjoon, who is softcore jamming to his white noise playlist. It’s cute as to how curious Jungkook is about Namjoon. While you try to keep your work life separate, there really isn’t much backstory to your personal life to warrant that kind of divide. 

“Namjoon,” you state aloud, watching Namjoon sing badly to himself, “why, are you gonna beat him up for me?” 

“I can take him,” you can practically hear Jungkook’s chest pop out. 

With a roll of your eyes, you reach to kill the heat off the tea kettle, “No need. He isn’t the guy I’m trying to get over.” 

“Oh, he’s your fuck buddy then?” 

“Shit!” being caught off guard, you grab at the handle of your kettle without a pot holder, burning your fingertips. In seconds Jungkook’s larger hand encases your own, pulling you over to the sink to soak your fingers in cool running water.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Jungkook is chanting like a sinner at church, searching for any sign of pain in your visage, “I shouldn’t have asked while you’re working with a hot stove.” 

You suppress a sigh, relaxing your fingers as Jungkook soothes the burn with his gentle hold, “Shouldn’t have asked in the first place,” you mumble. 

“I know,” he replies, “guess I’m just feeling a little left out. We don’t talk like we used to. I guess I’m getting a little too nosy for my own good, aren’t I?” 

You don’t understand what’s going on with his incessant babbling as of late, but you chalk it up to work stress and Jisoo’s move. Having no answers to his honest reply, you gently untack your red palm from his grip, assuring him that you’re fine. 

Namjoon steps into your kitchenette, being surprisingly careful as he takes your potholder to pour himself a cup of tea. If the tea is oversteeped and bitter he doesn’t say anything, only leans against the counter as he regards you two with slow sips. “You alright?” 

“M’fine,” you reply stubbornly, avoiding Jungkook’s worried stare. 

Namjoon holds out his hand, “Hand.” 

“No—”

“Hand.” 

His deep voice coerces you, and you immediately slap the back of your palm onto Namjoon’s. Your partner brushes his golden hands over the tiny blister that’s forming over your fingertips. “Can’t have my Work Wife outta commission.” 

“Your Work Wife is fine,” you gripe back. 

Your co-worker’s eyes flicker over to Jungkook’s for a brief second, Jungkook regarding him in curiosity as he stares at your connected palms. “I have some aloe in my bag for sunburns,” Namjoon offers helpfully, ignoring the weird glances, “I’ll give it to you in a bit. Also, I’ve overcome my sudden bout of stress and I’m ready to email our progress to Victoria. We’re done for the day.” 

“Awesome, thanks Joonie,” you exhale, relaxing against the sink, “wanna go eat somewhere?” 

“There’s a niche place in Itaewon if you wanna check it out?” Namjoon offers.

Jungkook interjects, “Jisoo ordered pizza if you guys wanna share with us?” 

“Pizza also sounds good—” 

“We don’t wanna interrupt your alone time,” you gracefully cut in, stepping in front of Namjoon despite the fact that he’s easily towering over you. 

Jungkook snorts, “I’ll have enough alone time with her when she moves in, don’t worry. Besides, I ordered three pies because I wanted to try three different flavor combos. I need two additional judges.” 

“Thanks Jungkook but,” you stifle a cry when Namjoon jabs you in the back with his thumb. It’s pressing, digging into the small of your back as if he’s trying to telepathically tell you that you’re being rude, “but… I don’t know if I can eat three slices! Namjoon on the other hand, can probably eat enough to fairly judge.” 

“Great,” Jungkook’s smile is blinding, causing your grin to stiffen as he looks for his phone to shoot Jisoo a quick text that they’re having dinner for four. 

Once Jungkook’s out of earshot, Namjoon tugs you by the sleeve, “The hell was that?” he hisses in your ear, “you look like you’re about to shit and piss your pants at the same time.” 

“I just don’t feel comfortable eating with them,” you cross your arms in defiance. You think back to just a week ago where you and Jisoo reluctantly attempted to eat breakfast together one morning. You provided minimal small talk while Jisoo clinged to her phone, replying to you in non-committal clipped tones. 

“Do I want to know?”

“No.” 

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No!” you retort, “you got me into this mess, you’re gonna stay with me ‘till the end.”

“I don’t know what you want from me, woman,” Namjoon throws his arms out exasperatedly, oolong tea nearly sloshing onto his hand, “just suck it up or I revoke your bragging rights to that snag you got on our spread next Monday.” 

“Not my fault you couldn’t get Kim Taeyeon on the spread,” you smirk. 

“Well I didn’t so happen to stalk the Sephora she frequents for the past two weeks—” 

“I didn’t stalk her I just so happened to need a new Fenty Gloss Bomb every other day—”

“I’m home, Jungkookie!” 

Your face contorts, your playful energy melting to the hardwood as your previous banter with Namjoon evaporates into thin air. Work bags in one hand and three boxes of pizza balancing in the other, Jisoo kicks off her heels somewhere across the door and places the pizza on the dining table. 

Jungkook immediately appears by her side, and you look away and Jisoo plants a heavy kiss on his lips. She cracks open one eye as she notices you and Namjoon hanging by the kitchenette, “Oh,” she mumbles at her audience, “you’re here?” 

Yes, you bimbo. I’m here in my own apartment. 

“I guess you didn’t read my text that they’ll be joining us for dinner,” Jungkook cuts in good-naturedly, “we have way too much pizza anyway. Have a seat, guys.” 

Jungkook navigates the kitchen as easily as your own, and you slump in your chair while Namjoon exchanges pleasantries with Jisoo. She looks impeccable, hair in a tight chignon and a tight navy dress as she converses with your co-editor. 

“I’m starving,” Jungkook announces, making sure to place a slice on Jisoo’s plate. He shuffles through the other boxes, making brief eye contact with you when he decides to put a slice on yours as well, “you like these toppings, right?” 

You regard the greasy, hearty piece of cheese and bread with a curt nod. You feel Jisoo’s eyes laser on your skin, “Yeah, thanks Kook.” 

Namjoon, Jisoo and Jungkook mostly stir up the conversation, you opting to eat as slow as possible to avoid any conversation. It’s easy to blend back and let them take over, as Jisoo loves to talk about her fashion firm and Namjoon is a great listener. 

Jungkook and Namjoon make it a point to direct the conversation to you from time to time, and you let the ball leave your court as soon as it lands. You prefer to keep your responses short and simple, especially when Jisoo is so eager to talk about the new silk drapes she’s installing for Jungkook’s windows.

Your phone buzzes in your lap, and you discreetly look under the table to read the incoming text message. 

vernie bernie: would u like to do the devil’s dance tonight

vernie bernie: or a tickle to my pickle? 

vernie bernie: beatin ya bean? 

You: ohmyGOD 

vernie bernie: or y’know, u could just come ovr and chill. Hobi made some bomb tres leches

You: call. Ill come after dinner

“Are you okay, y/n?” your head bounces up to meet Jungkook’s gaze, “you’ve barely eaten and you haven’t talked much.” 

“Oh you know, she’s just stressed about the upcoming spread,” Namjoon steps in for you, and you send him a discrete, but grateful smile. He’s always impeccable at reading the room, “she’s just nervous about her interview with Kim Taeyeon, but I think you did her interview justice.” 

“No way, the singer Kim Taeyeon?” Jungkook gushes, regarding you with stars in his eyes, “your interviews are always so great, y/n. You ask really good questions. Like that one spread about  Lee Yonghwa’s art gallery? Really cool.” 

You notice the way Jisoo presses her lips together, a thin line as if she’s trying to seal away words that she’ll regret saying. She’s jealous, and you can’t help the blush of pride that fills your veins as you raise a secret brow at her. 

“Right, you got nothing to worry about,” Namjoon squeezes your shoulder encouragingly, as if you’d get his double-meaning. 

“Thanks,” you reply, pushing your plate away and standing up, “I’m actually gonna go head to Vernon’s for a bit, though. He wants to double check his work before we email Victoria.” 

It’s a bald-faced lie, Namjoon sent the files to Victoria right before dinner, but he isn’t going to argue. 

“Okay,” Namjoon thanks Jungkook and Jisoo for the meal, stacking his plate atop yours, “I’ll walk out with you.” 

“It’s only been twenty minutes, though,” you see the slight panic in Jungkook’s gaze as he watches you quickly clean up for you and Namjoon. You can’t quite pin why he’s so concerned, after all he has been acting strange as of late. 

“Yeah, I’m full,” you reply curtly, licking your lips and avoiding his gaze. You already know what he wants to say, that he’s been in your apartment all day and all he’s seen you eat is stale chips and tea, “but we can do this again.” But hopefully not. 

“If you’re coming home late again,” it’s the first time Jisoo has spoken to you directly. You tilt your head to her slowly, watching the plastic smile carefully carved onto her expression. You see the contrived care and concern between her brows, “please try to be quieter next time, the last time you came home late you woke Jungkookie up.” 

Snapping your gaze to Jungkook you plaster on a thick smile, “Sorry Jungkook—” 

“What? No, it’s fine!” he furrows his brows in confusion, finally able to detect the strange tension between the two housemates, “I barely heard you—” 

“Maybe I’ll just stay the night at Vernon’s,” your eyes trail over to the pajama set you immediately switched into when you got home today, “wouldn’t want to disturb you two.” 

“Good,” Jisoo’s tone is saccharine and clipped as she tacks on a, “have fun.” 

It’s laudable, how much Jisoo wants to make a fool out of you but you won’t have it. You revel in the perplexed expression as Jungkook’s gaze darts back and forth between the two of you, wanting to butt in but unsure of how to approach it. Not giving him the time to, you bid the couple a goodnight and make a fast getaway. Heck, you don’t even take your work stuff with you. 

Once you’re out the door, Namjoon wordlessly gives you a hug. You sigh gratefully into his embrace. 

The next time Jungkook sees you, he reads the room before anything. You and Jisoo’s apartment is scarily empty, almost clinical. He’s tried texting you a few times after his failed-not-failed attempt at catching up at the mall and his awkward conversation concerning Namjoon, but you always reply back with vague replies and an unpromised promise of meeting up sometime soon. 

It dulls him to think that you’ve given up on him as a friend. But can you blame him? He needs to keep an appropriate distance for Jisoo, after all, she doesn’t like it when he gets too close to other women unless it’s strictly professional. Usually Jisoo’s jealousy inevitably works itself out and Jungkook doesn’t pose any problems because he has very few girl friends, but for some reason your friendship with him specifically gets Jisoo stiff in the face. Is it because you and Jisoo are so close? Possibly. 

But it doesn’t mean you can’t join the same Valorant server with him at 2AM and accidentally bomb each other, or argue over the magnum opus of each film company. Is that not enough? 

Jisoo’s working overtime, and Jungkook suggested last night that he move the boxes to the front of the door for easy pick-up when the moving truck arrives. Jisoo promises to buy Thai food in return, and with a kiss emoji she leaves him to audit fabric budgets. 

As he glides down to Jisoo’s room he notes that the pictures along the wall have disappeared, and there’s double the amount of boxes in the hallway. It seems that you’re moving out too. To where, he doesn’t know but he hopes it isn’t too far. 

He chides Jisoo remotely when he sees that her room is completely intact, and he makes moves to pack up her things. 

That’s when he finds his letter. Not a love letter to Jisoo, but a love letter to you. Deep in the recesses of Jisoo’s junk drawer, is a faded lavender envelope with a pressed cream colored baby’s breath taped up in plastic. The glue is yellow and old, clearly served its purpose due to the fact that the letter is already opened and the contents rumpled. 

Hey Pretty Girl–

He immediately stuffs the letter back in its holder, stricken at his messy handwriting from two years ago. It feels like he found a time capsule, another version of Jungkook confessing to you. He used to call you Pretty Girl, not enough for you to catch on to his feelings, but enough for you to understand that he did find you attractive. It was early on in your friendship. 

When you first asked him to be study partners for some silly class that had nothing to do with each other’s majors, he gaped like a guppy and pointed to himself. That day he went to class in last night’s clothes and a nest of fluffy strands. “Me?” he felt like absolute trash, and you were probably desperate due to the fact you two were the only seniors in this class, “but you’re a pretty girl… and I’m pretty dumb when it comes to this subject.” 

But instead you scoffed and pulled him from his slumped figure, dragging him to the library, with a wink and a “you’re pretty, too.” Those words have burned in his brain since then, as he wasn’t used to getting such off-handed compliments, especially from intelligent girls that wanted more than one night. 

For whatever reason you continued seeing his dumb self, even after the semester ended and together registered for one more class for spring. 

Whenever you’d go out for ice cream you wouldn’t hesitate to stuff your face and add for extra Oreos and fries, you’d assure Jungkook you’re not normally this much of a slob. 

Jungkook would just smile and offer you a napkin and say, “You’re still a pretty girl.” 

He fell for you gracefully. There was no regret, no walk of shame, no cliché late night party where you or him could’ve instigated it into the physical. It was all by feel. 

However the two of you took your time with your relationship, languidly enjoying the hushed conversations in the library at 2AM, the late night McFlurry runs, the integration of each other’s friends like it was natural. Ergo the lavender love letter. It was a gentle declaration, one he felt pretty confident in. 

So color him stupid when you passed him in class with a happy wave, Jungkook dumbfounded at how well you handled his confession. You weren’t oblivious, you just never read it. 

But now he knows the declaration was for whatever reason, lost in transit. “I should’ve known,” he whispers in the air, the letter crumpling in his grip. Composing himself, he pinches his brows.  

There’s an electronic buzz and a sharp slam of the front door. Judging by the time, you’re home. 

You flop onto your mattress, folding an arm over your head to stop the sun from seeping to your eyes. Vernon’s exhausted you, and you barely got away before he could have any say in it. You need a little space, and some time to think. 

Just as you close the door to your bedroom, it swings open. 

You gape as Jungkook thrusts himself into your bedroom like a deer with horns, looking pale. You follow his gaze, darkened eyes that linger a little too long on your neck again, and you narrow your eyes at him to avert. He looks a little red in the cheeks despite his pallidness, looking like he just got out of bed with messy wavy locks and his signature sweats. Is Jungkook packing for Jisoo again? 

Acutely aware that you smell like sweat and sex, you clutch the blankets closer to your body. “Uh, rude.” 

He looks uncharastically frantic, waving a letter in his hand, “Did you ever read this?” 

“Read what?” you ask, hands reaching out for the envelope. 

“My confession letter,” he blurts, having no shame now that all the gears are running through his head. “I wrote you a letter asking you out, because you said you wanted to collect notes like in Letters to Juliet. But I just found it in Jisoo’s drawer, why would it be there?” 

And all the pent up frustration that never seemed to escape under Vernon’s sheets, the feelings that never seem to subside, all bubble back to the surface. Now that Jungkook knows, there’s no hiding. 

You’re in shock, hands reaching for the letter despite the burn that seeps through your fingertips. Jungkook’s shoulders slump when you do indeed look like it’s your first time seeing this, as if a missing puzzle piece in your timeline has finally been revealed.

“I, I didn’t think you’d write me a letter,” you take the lavender envelope, clutching the letter by your chest like it’s something precious, “that’s so sweet,” you say to yourself.  

It dawns on him, “Wait, you knew about this? I knew something weird was going on.” 

“Only recently,” you frown. 

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” he nearly shouts, causing you to flinch, “no wonder why you were being so weird all this time. How could you let me live the rest of my life knowing this? That my relationship is built on a lie? ” 

“I don’t know,” you suddenly feel very small in your mattress as Jungkook rounds up on you, pulling your desk chair closer to your bed, “because you love Jisoo, of course.” 

“Well obviously that’s not possible,” and while yes a two-year realtionship ending like this is going to hit him hard tonight, he’s focused on you and the fact that you failed to tell him, “somehow I’d find out. Why wait for me to find out on my own?” 

“Because I wanted to protect you!” 

“Protect me,” he scoffs, crossing his arms and sneering at you. It causes you to tense up, feeling the telltale signs of tears bubbling to the surface, “you don’t even want to be friends anymore, y/n. I’ve tried to catch up to you so many times, but you keep leaving me hanging. I know I’ve been a pretty bad friend and I get it if you just feel awkward that I liked you, then that’s a shitty reason.” 

“Have you ever considered that it’s too late to tell you?” you shoot back, sitting up straight, “yes, I admit I should’ve told you earlier and I’m sorry, but it was a lot for me to process to y’know? Jisoo and I haven’t talked properly in weeks!” 

“Oh, so you’ve stopped trying to be friends with Jisoo too, huh? Just like you’re trying to stop being friends with me.” 

“No,” you pinch your brows, “she stopped being friends with me! She doesn’t care about me because she has you,” conflict burns in Jungkook’s gaze, and you only serve to fuel the fire, “she’s tried so hard to not involve me in your relationship.” 

“Just tell me why you’ve really kept this secret instead of saying you want to protect me like a baby—” 

“It’s because I’m in love with you, idiot!” 

You blink and back up against the wall of your bedroom, as if you can’t believe that the words came out of your mouth. 

It’s quiet again. The sour look evaporates from Jungkook’s face as he watches you suppress your sobs on your mattress. The room seems devoid, sucked out of its color as you’ve cleaned up most of your things, the only thing left being some plain grey sheets and a pillow. 

Jungkook’s mind is absolutely reeling, playing back memories from a different point of view. 

“When Jisoo told me she sabotaged our relationship so she could date you, I was so upset and didn’t know what to think,” you manage to place the lavender note on your wooden desk, making sure no tears could mar it. “And I thought I could move on and eventually stay friends with the both of you, but the next day Jisoo put all her attention on you and completely ignored me or any attempt to salvage our friendship. She only told me to forgive herself,” you’re hugging yourself, wrapping the blankets around you like a weak embrace, “so I thought if I cut myself out of the picture and forced myself to move on like I should’ve, everything would’ve been okay.” 

“So, you would’ve rather kept all this pain to yourself?” 

“Yeah,” you give him a teary smile, “because I wanted you to be happy.” 

And with an equally sad smile he murmurs, “But I’m not happy.” 

 Your face falls, and you really look at Jungkook. He’s exhausted as well, slumped in his chair. Has he been trying to grapple along the threads of his relationships, while you’ve been trying to loosen them? 

“What a waste of two years,” he slumps in your chair, letting the pieces click into place, “a relationship built on fake love. I was really trying, y’know. I thought I was going crazy.” 

The three of you have unknowingly been playing a futile game of Cat’s Cradle, a game that no one wins. 

Jungkook looks wistfully out the window, noting the pleasant day that fails to present itself in your tiny room. It feels simultaneously satisfying and bitter when it falls into place, your thoughts finally fitting together for the first time in months. “We could’ve loved each other. For real,” he says, and you silently agree. 

You’re still crying, shaking like a leaf in autumn. Jungkook’s arms hover awkwardly over yours, his warmth palpable despite the fact that he hasn’t touched you yet. With a timid smile you allow consent, and you melt like putty in his arms. 

“Kookie, ‘m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” you murmur into his shoulder, not caring if it hurts when you press your chin into his skin. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way.” 

It’s been so long to have him close like this, the friend you’ve always wanted but never needed. Since college you’ve always imagined a life without him doing just fine, but that doesn’t mean you want to live without him, roommate’s boyfriend or not. 

“I’m sorry too,” he sighs back, “this sucks right now, but we’ll be alright.” 

The two of you sit in your room until it turns dark and the sky muddles into shades of twilight and egg yolk orange. There’s lulls in the conversation, the two of you filling in the gaps and making sense of the mumbo-jumbo that’s been going on in your consciousness up until this point. Your insantities turn sane, and by the time Jisoo’s making her way back inside with the smell of pad thai, Jungkook is ready. With a squeeze to each other and a press of your lips because you don’t know what to say, you tuck yourself in and pretend to fall asleep. 

“Messy, messy, messy,” Vernon sing-songs, knocking his heels against the wall. 

The both of you are sitting upside-down, butts attached to the wall connecting to his mattress and your feet hanging in the air. Your mint floral organza socks pad against his Pink Floyd poster, while his yellow tube socks are heeling against some old Polaroids from college. There’s no prospect of sex today, not when shit just hit the fan. 

Today you and Vernon are just two old friends and very close co-workers. 

“Tell me about it,” you bemoan, frowning at the beige wall, “this whole week’s just been a whole mess. It’s like, warm tuna salad.”

“Gross,” Vernon grimaces at the apt comparison, “so what happens now?” 

You sit up on your elbows, looking down at Vernon’s peaceful expression, “What do you mean?” 

“Like, are you gonna get together with him?”

You snort, flopping back down on his bed. The blankets fluff around you and you inhale the pine scented sheets. “After all that? No.” 

“But you still love him?” 

It must sound dumb to still love him after all this time. You wouldn’t be surprised if Vernon thought you’re silly to still hold a place in your heart for someone who has fifteen million things on their plate now. After all the physicality and the space Vernon gave you in his home, your feelings haven’t wavered. 

Your companion doesn’t bother waiting for your answer, hearing your answer somewhere in the air as he gets up and throws on his denim jacket. Rolling over your stomach you ask, “Where are you going?” 

“Some friends down in printing want to meet up for drinks,” Vernon messes up his hair, making the waves part in that little coiff that makes his jawline look sharp. “I heard Yerin really wanted me to come, so.” 

You can’t help the little middle school coo that comes from your lips, causing Vernon to giggle and throw a pillow at you. “Yerin’s cute!” you declare, remembering the petite girl in overalls who’s all about pops of yellow and violet, “you're into her?” 

“Nah,” Vernon holds up two hats in his hands, gesturing for you to pick one. “Just figured it was a push in the right direction.” 

Crawling out of his bed you stumble in your oversized t-shirt, tucking a finger under your chin as you decide between the emerald bucket hat and the red Ralph Lauren baseball cap. You pull out both hats from his hands and set it down on his vanity, opting to smooth out the flyaways and ringing your fingers through his soft curls. “And what direction would my free-flowing friend be going today?” you ask aloud, “you look better with your hair out,” you declare firmly, “makes you look like a fluffy CEO.” 

He laughs at your silly comparison, and he gently moves your hand away from his hair when you linger a little too close to him. His gaze is solemn as he regards you with a gentle smile, “Keep your distance, I’m tryna get over someone,” he says simply, and your arm falls limp at your sides. 

Your heart thuds in a different direction, your mouth parting but no words coming to the surface. When was the last time you asked about Vernon’s needs, wondered if he was doing alright, making sure you two were on the same page—

“You’re spiraling,” he reads you like a playbook, smoothing down your hair to press a kiss to the crown. Suddenly you feel guilty for not having sparks in your belly, shaming your conscience for not even considering his sacrifices in your self-absorption these past few weeks. “Like I said, I wanted to help you. Stop looking like a kicked puppy, it’s okay to be selfish.” 

With transparent tears the two of you pack up and head to your next destination. Hands ghosting between each other you make your way to the exit of Vernon’s apartment, him to meet up with his friends while you have to unpack your new apartment. With a hug you tell each other you’ll see them on Monday, and as easy as that you go your separate ways.

Hey Pretty Girl—

I kinda wanted to tell you this in person but I know how much you liked Mamma Mia and all those other movies that have grand gestures in writing so I thought hey, might as well shoot my shot on paper. 

Not gonna tell you all the details, because you deserve to hear it in-person. But mayhaps this letter has something to do with how much I like studying with you, watching movies with you, doing absolutely nothing with you and all of that in-between. 

There’s a gift card to our spot attached. Meet me at McDonalds @12 tonight, so I know it’s real 😎

Hopefully yours, Jungkook

P.S. if you haven’t noticed already, I sprayed a little cologne and stole Taehyung’s fancy paper from Muji. That’s how serious I am about you. 

“Joon, we live in a bonsai garden. We’re like giants in a forest.” 

“Can you—can you stop spitting at them? Let them breathe, dammit.” 

“Not my fault they’re so tiny! I literally have to zoom 200% just to get a good look at ‘em.” 

The two of you are huddled in what used to be Namjoon’s balcony, now a sunroom for his succulents and bonsais. Your heart feels pink and swollen with affection as you regard Namjoon with interest, absorbing every bit of information you can as he teaches you how to care for his plants. After all, you’re co-parenting now. 

Having your Wusband co-sign as your roommate for the next year is probably the best decision you have made this year. Everyday is like a breath of fresh air. With Seokjin gone for the year to tour his restaurant franchises, his room is yours for the taking. The two of you are easy going roommates, filling the apartment with color and vigour whether it be in the form of baking sweets or watching Netflix documentaries. 

The only drama you ever have is when you two are having a meltdown over the same work-related issue, as if you two somehow share the same brain cell. It’s significantly less stressful, no need for unnecessary anger when  you have someone as mediating as Namjoon.

After today’s plant lesson, you two go back to the living room to finish up your work for the evening. Another perk of living together is that you can go home at normal work times and continue where you left off with the comfort of your couch and eating a whole pizza pie with no shame. 

Namjoon’s phone pings with a new email from corporate. “We got the new concept for next month’s spread,” he gestures to you with a grandiose wave of his arm, “drumroll please.” 

He pulls up the newsletter from corporate with a flick of his thumb. Your company put out every month’s concept out in an Evite, like every month was a themed party. A stressful, month long work party. In seconds, the page loaded and you’re met with next month’s title bathed in electronic glitter. 

The Most Beautiful Moment in Life: Class of Youth

The two of you say silent, absorbing the concept like a cookie to milk. It’s a personal spread this month, a real treat for the team to show off their normal non-professional life. A spread that reveals the masters behind the ink and text. Last year’s personal spread was about the staff’s vacation destinations, but this year’s is much more intimate. You can imagine all the ideas that will be thrown around on Monday’s meeting: pinning down shared ideas like Throwback Thursdays, late night munchie runs, drunk stories, and all the crazy college nostalgia that you’ve been trying to avoid as of late. 

But now it’s presented to you in a gold chalice, and while you’re sick of the past you think it’s about time to face it. You’re excited to tackle the dark monster you’ve suppressed since Jungkook and Jisoo’s breakup. 

“Did I ever tell you I was president of my university’s Mock Trial?” 

“No, I always thought you’d be president of the Comparative Literature Club or whatever. But Mock Trial is equally as nerdy.” 

“I’ll have you know Mock Trial got me tons of action,” he winked, “made me very convincing.” 

“Gross,” you sneer, “so that’s what your spread will be about? How the co-editor of the Arts & Entertainment section managed to bag with his skills from Mock Trial?” 

“Nah, I went on a penniless journey with Jin during spring break. Six days around Malta.” 

“That does sound so you,” you sigh, fingers slipping between the cracked screen as you mull over the overly happy Evite, “sounds like a cool story.” 

“I know that look,” Namjoon quips, snatching his phone under his nose, “don’t overthink your spread just yet, it’s still the weekend. Now to more important things, what do you want from Taco Bell?”

And because you can’t refuse the combined efforts of nachos and Namjoon’s dimples, you relent for the night and tack the unmade idea to the next workday. 

Unfortunately the next workday is just as disheartening. Today’s work meeting is the antithesis of icing on the cake. While your college life isn’t anything remarkable, you didn’t think it was a painfully dull time. With every passing moment and every excited co-worker throwing memories back and forth like ping pong balls, the more you felt inferior by competing with their amazing memories. 

“Who can even afford Aruba at twenty-one,” you mutter under your breath, stalking back to your cubicle. 

Filling up a whole spread is daunting to you, the thought of Victoria popping her head in your cubicle to ask what you’ve got for the day is practically eating you from the inside out. Maybe your college life was in actuality, super boring? You have no crazy drug trips to tell, any vacations that gave you a life-changing perspective, or an epic love story. 

“What’cha got there, partner?” 

The third musketeer of your editing team’s caramel eyes peer into your cubicle, causing you to jump in your chair. Vernon wheels around, chair and all to push you into your already cramped space. His gold button up gleams in the sunlight, effectively blinding you. 

“If by something you mean nothing, then yeah I got nothing,” you frown, spinning around your chair. “What are you writing about?” 

A fond smile melts onto your friend’s face, and you can’t help returning a smile that mirrors his own. You two have fallen back into a good place, as far as you know. He’s still easy, simple, sweet Vernon. When you dropped some boxes off in coloring, you heard that Vernon and Yerin have recently started seeing each other. 

“Thought of the idea as soon as the Evite came out. It’s more of a photo spread, but I’m gonna write about my study abroad in NYU,” Vernon ticks a pencil on his forehead, “a self-identity piece talking about how I felt like, not-white around my family n’stuff. And then felt not-Asian at the same time, s’complicated but I think I can make it work.” 

“Deep,” you pat his shoulder caringly, knowing that Big Hit is a good outlet for these kinds of subjects, “alright City Slicker, since you’re so full of ideas then tell me what to write about.” 

Vernon sits up straight, regarding you with narrowed eyes, “Aren’t you gonna write about your little love triangle with Jisoo and Jungkook?” and it seems like he’s already storyboarded the idea in his head, gesturing to the air as if he’s writing down a timeline, “I can see the headline now: How to Steal a Heart,” he’s grinning, nodding fervently as you cross your arms in distaste. 

“Vern, are you suggesting that I exploit Jisoo and Jungkook’s personal lives?” while the journalism business didn’t pride itself on sincerity, it did feel wrong to drag in your personal life to that extent. 

“Babe, you don’t understand. You have the perfect slice of life story. Everyone’s writing about expensive vacations and that one time they got cross-faded and ended up in Busan,” he squeezes your hand, “but your story, it’s relatable. It’s romantic. It’s angsty. It has closure. No one’s gonna be able to relate to an impulse spending on daddy’s money to Aruba. But first loves? Unrequited romance and all that ish? Everyone can speak to that. And you’re a beautiful writer, they’ll eat up that story like honey.” 

“I don’t know, it still doesn’t feel right.” 

“Change up the names, twist the story,” he offers easily, knowing you’d put up a fight, “besides, it’s not like you’re planning on talking to Jisoo or Jungkook ever again,” you open your mouth to retort, but Vernon’s phone beeps to the Star Wars theme song and he’s flying out of his chair. “Shoot, gotta go help Joon upstairs. Just think about it, okay? Good luck!” and he’s kicking his chair out with a brown loafer, leaving you with breathing room in your cubicle. 

Five seconds later Vernon is jogging back, pointing a finger at you, “And if you do choose to write it, you have to add that Jisoo copped your McDonalds gift card. Like, who does that shit? Couldn’t she have just given it to you and say it was from her and not Jungkook? Seriously fucked up.” 

For the next ten or so minutes you mull. Out of all the memorable college events you’ve participated in, the largest one by far is your (now defunct and debatable) friendship with Jisoo, and your (un)requited love for Jungkook. Reluctantly, you must admit Vernon has a sharp idea, busting in like a hero and offering you the most writable piece on a silver platter. 

It doesn’t feel morally right just to start writing, because ultimately you can’t feel comfortable until you get the consent of Jungkook. While you don’t want to touch Jisoo with a ten-meter pole, you do want to start talking to Jungkook again now that the waters have calmed.

Your life has moved gracefully up until this point, and you’d like to start being friends with him again. Decision made, you pull out your phone and make an important call.

“Hey Yoongi,” you say nervously. Min Yoongi is Kim Namjoon’s equivalent, Jungkook’s Wusband and former upperclassmen in college. 

Said man hums noncommittally on the other line, “Whaddya want, it’s been awhile.” 

You stifle a giggle at his apathetic attitude, knowing he’s someone who wastes no time in getting straight to the point. “I just wanna make sure Jungkook’s address is still the same? I know it’s been a couple months, but I need to send him something and I wanna make sure it gets to him ASAP because—”

“Because last time something was sent, your crazy roommate intervened and Jungkook ended up in a two-year half-toxic relationship? Yeah, let’s make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

“Yoongi,” you say slowly, “where are you?” 

“Working in the studio,” he tuts, “Jungkook says hi, by the way.” 

Typical, cat’s out of the bag. With a roll of our eyes you reply, “Thanks for outing me, Yoongi. Talk to you later.” 

“And y/n? Jungkook says he’s waiting.” 

With a stupid smile slapped onto your face, you hang up the phone and pull out your stationary kit from under your desk. You pluck out a vermillion red envelope, a color so bold and begging to be seen, you know it can’t possibly get lost in transit. Feeling a little bit like a high schooler as you pull out a glitter jelly pen, you get to writing. 

Hey Pretty Boy...

Jungkook and Jisoo are no longer together, evidently. 

Their social media runs in different directions, with Jisoo sporting absolute elegance in her work at her family-owned boutique. Her posts are full of shiny outfits and soulless gazes, betraying any pinch of emotion she may have felt over these past few months. Her profile is wiped of any personal posts, all traces of you and Jungkook evaporated from her page. You must admit that she looks good, like a real fashion mogul, but only at the surface level. 

Conversely, Jungkook is thriving. It’s evident. Normally he isn’t the type of guy to post so frequently, his habits being often sporadic and limited to sweaty gym stories. But whenever you scroll, it’s pictures of him smiling. Big bunny teeth broken into a genuine, full-bellied laugh. Cute selfies of him and his co-workers. You notice two familiar co-workers in those posts, Irene and Seulgi, two beautiful women Jisoo always felt intimidated by whenever she ranted to you. You conclude positively that Jungkook doesn’t feel tethered and can hang out with all the friends he wants, female and male alike. Jungkook looks free, and you’re happy for him. 

It’s another Instagram-worthy moment tonight at McDonalds, where you and Jungkook proposed to meet each other at 12AM. 

This time, the letter makes it to its desired destination. You make sure of that because this time you hand-deliver it, slipping under his apartment door knowing he lives alone and no one would be able to access it except him. 

You’re parked in an obscure corner, but you can see that Jungkook is currently having a great time with his co-workers for an after work meal. Yoongi is unbothered on his phone, while Jimin and Seulgi are taking turns throwing fries into each other’s mouth. Jungkook is squished between them, scrunching his nose cutely as he tries not to get in the fray of their fry-war. 

Your phone pings, and you laugh at what pops up on the screen.

Yoongi: come inside, u loser. 

You: can’t ur friend group makes me nervous stop being so dang cute

You: dw i’ll wait, it’s only 11:50

Instead of replying, Yoongi puts his phone down and resumes eating. In turn you pick a playlist, deciding that “summer time high mix✨✨✨” is a theme you need to subscribe to for the rest of the weekend. 

Busying yourself by sending some texts to Namjoon and checking some emails, you relax in your seat as you let your brain turn to sludge for the weekend. You’re tired, eyes glazing over as you watch Yoongi elbow Jungkook harshly, forcing him to look out the foggy window. 

Jungkook’s eyes light up like it’s Christmas Eve, but instead of Christmas lights it's your car’s lowlights. The graphic designer  pays no mind to his friends as they wish him goodbye and goodluck, throwing on his jacket with a wave. 

The night air whizzes by, Jungkook’s floppy black strands bouncing with each step as he bounds to your car. He throws your door open, bringing in the cold air as he regards you as easily as an old friend would. 

“Hi,” he chirps, placing his tattooed palms by the air vent, “c’mon, let’s order.” 

“You know, you could’ve ordered inside and brought it in here.” 

“Yeah but then it would take longer to get to you,” the cheeky grin that Jungkook throws at you is unmistakable, “c’mon, get out the car and let’s switch.” 

“Huh?” 

“You look tired, you didn’t come back from the office again, did you?” 

“I did tonight,” you say, “I just really wanted to get the soft copy of the article done and—” 

“Out, out!” Jungkook clicks your seatbelt off and he’s coming out of the passenger side, opening your car and pulling you out by the hand, “c’mon, I’ll drive.” 

You shake your head, hiding your smile in your hand as you let Jungkook do what he wants. Normally you’d be insulted that anyone suggests they should drive your car but Jungkook would always drive you around, saying he loved long rides. Above all, if you could trust anyone to drive your car, Jungkook is at the top of the list. 

Buckling in, you bite the inside of your cheek as Jungkook easily pulls out of the parking spot one-handed. His jacket is pulled up to his elbows, exposing his veins as he expertly whirls the wheel in the direction of the drive-thru. Since college he’s always looked very attractive driving.  

Doesn’t mean you have to act like you’re still in college. You tamp those feelings down, knowing that your article probably has you feeling stuck in time. 

“—coming along?” 

“Wha?” 

“I said, how’s the spread coming along?” 

“It’s pretty much done, I think. I’ll send you the hard copy when it’s ready,” you tap your fingers against the dashboard, “but are you sure you’re okay with me writing it? I know I’m using a pseudonym and everything for you two but I still feel weird—” 

“It’s fine, I think it’s a good thing,” and you still squirm in your seat when he flashes you a genuine smile, “I mean, it kinda is a funny story and I think it’s good for both of us. Like closure, y’know? Moving on and—hi, can I get two Oreo McFlurrys and a large fry? Thanks!” he pulls out his wallet to scan the total on the e-reader.  “I mean, didn’t it feel good writing it?”

“Yeah,” you replied honestly, relaxing in your seat, “like, college was fun and all, but when Jisoo kinda ruined all that… after awhile I didn’t think it was ruined after all, y’know? I still made amazing friends and ended up where I wanted to be. I want to show the readers that shit happens, and that’s okay. And if things are really meant to be, they’re meant to be.” 

The summer playlist hums in the background as Jungkook pulls up to the pick-up window. He thanks the worker and hands you the tray, and you make quick work to put the fries in the first cup holder for optimal sharing. He doesn’t park at McDonalds, but instead smoothly pulls out of the restaurant into the direction of his apartment. It isn’t a particularly long drive, but you figure it would be easier for Jungkook to go home first if you’re already parked at his complex. 

“What do you mean by that?” Jungkook parks in the driveway of his apartment, taking his McFlurry from your hands. 

“Mean by what?” 

“If things are really meant to be, they’re meant to be.” 

“Well, we’re here now, right?” 

Jungkook pops his spoon in, swallowing vanilla and a silly smile through his coral pink lips, “We’re here now,” he repeats. 

The night air is cool and your conversation is warm. You promise Jungkook that you’ll send him the final copy of your spread as soon as it’s done, and you two eagerly deviate away from the past and focus on the present. 

You can’t help the eagerness that flows between you, as if you’ve never spent time apart like this and it’s only now that you’re reuniting. It must be absence that makes the heart grow fonder, because you swell with affection and you find Jungkook’s presence sweeter than any kind of ice cream. 

Are you dating now? Maybe. You and Jungkook are going on dates, everything without the title. McFlurry runs, marathons of HGTV’s Design on a Dime, having lunch at each other’s respective buildings with the Wusbands. Whether these dates are exclusive or not is unknown, but you figure the question will present yourself one way or another. 

You’re in a good place right now, potential relationship or not. After all, your priorities are simultaneously positive and in order: family, work, friends, and any potential romantic trysts are at the very bottom. You could kiss the cover of this month’s issue (and trust, you have kissed your own copy multiple times) if it is not for the fact that this specific issue is for Jungkook. 

So, romantic trysts and friends have a tendency to flip-flop on your priority list, but only because it’s Jungkook. 

Unsurprisingly, there’s no guilt knowing that you’re dating your former best friend's ex-boyfriend. 

After a much deserved early work day, Namjoon and the crew arrange a hearty happy-hour filled with good food and enough relaxation to last the weekend. With your combined successes, your team felt like they made the best issue yet. At the heart of it, The Most Beautiful Moment in Life: Class of Youth became a reckoning of each other’s young life. Despite the love and the growth that occurred from your college years up until this point, you’re glad to close that chapter and move forward. 

You did not tell Jungkook when the issue would come out, so you think it’ll be a fun surprise for him when he sees it magically show up at his apartment. Bending down you move to slip the issue under his door, one hand pushing it under while one hand braces against the frame to steady your balance. 

Just as the shiny cover glides under the door it swings open, and you fall flat on Jungkook’s feet. 

Being the little shit he is, he simply giggles at the blunder, looking at you with excited eyes. “I’ve been waiting for you,” he says. 

“Creepy as hell, Jeon,” you mutter under your breath, brushing the dirt off your aqua pencil skirt. Looking at him from your spot on the floor and his large height, you grimace. “You look like a middle-aged serial killer looking outside your peephole.” 

“Now, we know that’s not true.” he finally offers his hand, easily pulling you up to your feet. You follow him into his kitchen, where he’s cutting up fresh fruit. He throws your issue on the counter, gentle enough so it doesn’t slide off the granite. He gestures to himself with both hands, “me, a dashingly handsome late twenty-something in Nike sweats who can bench-press two of you? Totally not a middle-aged serial killer.” 

“It’s in the eyes,” you chastise, “you look crazy.” 

“Maybe I’m just crazy excited to see you,” he says with a cheeky grin. 

You try your best not to choke on your spit at the cheeseball comment, throwing a blackberry in your mouth. Savoring the burst of tart flavor that fills your mouth, you wait for Jungkook to plate the fruit before meeting him on the couch. He’s holding a prettily arranged plate of berries, bananas, and mango with a huge dollop of whipped cream in the middle. In his other hand is Big Hit’s magazine. 

Throwing your blazer on the couch’s arm you don’t hesitate to cuddle up next to him, eagerly waiting for him to read your spread. 

The cover gazes back at the two of you like a reflection. The entirety of the staff is posed on the cover, made to look like a class photo. Some of you are holding balloons in your respective school colors, many of you grouping up with whoever happened to go to college together. You and Vernon are wearing matching university sweaters with silly grins on your faces. In the middle of the issue is the editor-in-chief, Victoria Song holding a placard that reads: Class of Youth. 

Jungkook spares you a glance from the corner of his eye, your head naturally tucked into his shoulder. With an exaggerated sigh, he fiddles through the glossy pages, “Hmm, which one should I read first?” 

“Of course you’ll read mine first,” you pout. 

“Ah, Namjoon’s looks really fun. Or Vernon’s? New York looks pretty cool,” he flips to a random page, “wait, Yerin’s spread is a Korean cookbook! I definitely want to make some tuna rice...”  

“Jungkook,” you whine, “read mine.” 

“I don’t know,” he taps his finger on his lip, “I mean, I pretty much know your spread because I’m already in it. It would be kind of redundant to read it.” 

“Kook, you’re being mean,” you glower, rubbing your cheek against his soft sweater. He’s just so damn comfy. 

“I’m kidding,” he tugs at your cheek, “where’s the table of contents, first page?”

“I’m on page eighty-three.” 

You speed up the process like an impatient child, leaning over to brush the pages to the desired spread. You even dog-earred it, a habit that drives Jungkook crazy as he immediately fiddles to iron out the crease. 

“Are you gonna read it to me too, mom?” he teases. 

“Okay fine! I’ll be quiet, but don’t take too long.” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

Eyes fluttering, you let Jungkook take his time to absorb your piece. A roommate by any other (rude) name: the lost letter. A cheesy, gimmicky title that Victoria insisted upon that you had no choice but relent to. The rest of the spread thankfully has a very authentic edge to it, your story laced with photos of you and Jungkook, your internship with Vernon, and most importantly, a scan of the lavender letter that got left in the past. 

Jungkook’s not silent through his read-through, either. He laughs at all the right parts, fueling your ego as his smile grows at your favorite lines. While he doesn’t directly engage in conversation, his positive energy is enough for you to make you feel like you’ve done your job right. It’s one thing to write about unknown celebrities and unnamed artists, but for people like Jungkook, the validation is personal. 

“It’s beautiful,” Jungkook says when he’s read it thrice through, running his thumb over a picture of you. “Really organic. Really, real.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he chuckles, having run out of adverbs. “It’s funny, too. I liked your little internal monologue. I wish I knew how you felt back then.” 

“I wish you did, too.” 

You’re quietly munching on a strawberry, looking over a polaroid Jungkook took. It was  sometime in the beginning of senior year, where you’ve fallen asleep on his mattress, drool drying on your mouth. Normally you’d be opposed to having such unflattering, grainy pictures amongst your writing, but it encapsulates the youth you’ve tried so hard to chase away. 

“How do you feel?” Jungkook says, switching out the magazine for the plate of fruit, placing it on his side. 

“Feel great, actually,” you muse, smiling to yourself. By no means are you a hero writing some grand gesture in an entertainment magazine, but you feel like you’ve saved yourself. You’ve savored your youth in four thousand words, cutting out the poison and keeping the moment as sweet as it can be. 

“I’m proud of you,” he reaches to ruffle your hair, and you don’t even get mad when it tousles out of your pinned style. 

Reveling in the attention, you simply close your eyes and feed yourself a handful of blueberries. 

“Love that I make money, but I definitely miss college from time to time,” Jungkook stretches, jostling you out of your comfortable position. “Like I remember Taehyung and I would take turns bringing backpacks to the dining hall so we could stuff fruit in it for later.”

“Yeah, but as much as I loved college I wouldn’t go back,” you nod to yourself, “I’m happy where I am now.” 

“What about when we stayed up for midnight breakfast? The dining hall was filled to the brim with food. Remember when I tried to eat a whole stack of pancakes?” 

“Jungkook…” 

“Or when our classes got cancelled and we went to Lotte World? You ate way too much funnel cake and I had to carry you to the car!” 

“Jungkook—” 

“And that one time we snuck out to the music hall’s rooftop?” words gush out of Jungkook’s mouth like a waterfall, unable to relent, “that’s when I realized I liked you. I liked you so much, I tried to tell you that night but choked—”

“Jungkook!” and he immediately zips up, frowning. You straighten up, on your knees as you reach over to run your hands through his onyx tresses, moving the styled strands to the back of his pierced ears, “Jungkook,” you repeat softly, “I’ve heard all these stories, I was there for most of them. As much as I love the past… can we talk about something else?” you give him a small, tentative smile to show him you’re not mad, but a little uncomfortable at his reminiscing. 

He leans into your touch, pressing your palm against the soft swell of his warm cheek. “Okay,” he agrees, resting one hand on your thigh. 

You’re roped in his gaze, and you have to force yourself to breathe when Jungkook moves closer to you. He hooks a leg behind his back, and another across his lap. A cool breeze kisses your inner thighs when your skirt exposes your cotton underwear. You should be embarrassed but instead you’re fixated, unable to understand what he’s trying to accomplish. 

“Then I’m gonna talk about the future,” Jungkook traps you between the couch, his thumb running hot circles to where your skirt has hiked up. It exposes a slip of the thigh that Jungkook has seen a million times. He’s seen you walking around your apartment in a large shirt, ridden up to your boyshorts. It’s different now, you feel exposed and tingly, thrumming with excitement. “I like you, obviously anticipated news and old news. I can’t stop thinking about how much I want to go on dates with you, re-watch Avatar, grumble when I force you to come to the gym with me,” he bumps noses with you when you scrunch yours, “I wanna be with you. Heck, I’ve even cleared space in my spare room so you’d have closet space for all your fancy designer suits if you ever need it.”

“You cleared space?” you manage to choke out. Visions of a shared apartment roll through your brain. Cooking meals together, having two toothbrushes side by side, and waking up to his face. 

“Of course I did. Do you know how financially attractive you are?” he says lightheartedly, “you’re a sexy working woman and it’s crazy to imagine you’d want to settle for me and my little apartment. But I have to try now because if I don’t, it’ll be too late.” 

“That’s not true,” you retort, “you’re not someone I’d settle for. I want you, and no one else.” 

He chuckles, running a thumb over your cheek. “Then what are we waiting for? Your key’s hiding under the mat.” 

“Jungkook…” on the tip of your tongue lays the words you’re going too fast but it doesn’t make its way to the air. 

“But do you really think it’s too fast?” he reads your face clearly, “these feelings never went anywhere. They were locked away, sure. And I loved her,” he can’t even say the name, not when you’re warm and flush against him, “but I loved our friendship more.”

“I… I don’t know what to say,” you breathe, letting the cogs in your brain roll until sparks develop. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” he concedes, “I just wanted to let you know. Could’ve done the letter thing all over again and let the past repeat itself. I know Namjoon wouldn’t hide a love letter for two years, but if I left another damn letter he’d definitely make a copy and tease me about it.” 

You snort, pressing your forehead to his. You’re practically buried in the couch now, tingly and vibrating with happiness. “And I’m not going to leave you hanging. I do want to say something,” and he looks at you expectantly, licking the leftover berry juice on his lips, nearly making you miss your train of thought, “I like you too,” you say, the other L-word is also applicable, but you feel like that phrase is reserved for another time, “I want to show you off on work vacations, bring you along as my date and show them you’re my muse,” you confess, “I wanna play video games with you ‘till 2AM, and eat ice cream in the comfort of our apartment instead of our cars because we’re too stubborn to admit we don’t wanna go home without each other.” 

Jungkook absolutely preens at the affection, sending you a heart melting smile that has your stomach doing backflips.

“Jungkook, I want to fall in love with you again.” 

Your squeal of surprise is swallowed by Jungkook’s lips, tasting of mangoes and berries as strong hands cup your backside, easily lifting you onto his lap. You plop under his strong thighs, feeling them flex against yours. The both of you are pouring in this kiss, raining with promises and hopes for a future with each other. His taste is concentrated, and you can feel the devotion practically injected in his embrace. 

When he pulls away his lips are cherry-red and shiny, looking up at you through clear coffee eyes. “This isn’t a dream, right?” he looks at you up and down, unable to decipher fact from fiction, “because I distinctly remember two wet dreams that involve you looking like this.” 

Looking down, you heat at the disarray you’re in. Hair wild and parted in different wavelengths, tired of the day’s efforts. Your slightly sheer dress-shirt is rumpled, the lace collar opened with two popped buttons revealing your cleavage, and your skirt is stretched so tight that it’s ruched all the way up your thighs. Sprawled across Jungkook’s lap, you’re dangerously close to something long and hard. 

Emboldened, you clutch at Jungkook’s collar, pulling him closer. 

“Show me what happens in your dream,” you whisper into his ear, barely brushing your clothed core against his crotch, “maybe we can make it come true tonight.” 

You can’t see his face, but you feel something dark and sensual overtake him. The grip on your ass tightens, a delicious pain that has you pressing your breasts against him and nipping on his ear, your tongue darting sensually through the cold silver hoops that dart through his skin. 

Within seconds, he rips you away from his neck and demands, “Open.” 

Dazed, you barely get a centimeter of your mouth open when Jungkook presses something cold and sugary against your lips. Whipped cream. You manage to take a small bite of the tart strawberry that he holds by the viridian stem, rolling the flavor between your mouth as Jungkook paints the leftover whipped cream over your lips. Once he’s satisfied he then creates a white trail that leads to your cleavage. 

Better than any dream, his eyes drink you in like the last glass of water in a desert. Your lips are swollen and parted like a baby kitten, covered in the creamy confection. “So pretty,” he exhales, his hot tongue licking from your cleavage to your lips, swallowing the flavor of you and strawberry juice, “such a pretty girl you are, and all mine.” 

“Yours,” you submit easily, rolling your hips against his. 

At that moment you think you’re meant to fall in love this way. You can’t imagine the shy, fumbly Jungkook and your equally confused self waltzing around a relationship when you barely had your lives together. The two of you still had growing to do. The wait is certainly worth it, because as you feel his arms tighten around you, you’re sure this love will stay strong.

It’s difficult for you to find a rhythm at first, what with Jungkook���s strength and need to be satiated, both of you are sloppy but the friction is nothing less than delicious. Your finger reaches over to swipe at the leftover cream on the plate, and you press your finger to Jungkook’s mouth, and he immediately complies. A dollop of sweet cream leaks out of his lips and your panties dampen further when you feel his tongue lick you clean, imagaining how good it would feel if it was your pussy he was licking. 

Your mouth waters at the feeling of his dick lining up against your core, as sticky as the strawberry juice that clings to your bodies. 

“C-can I make a confession? I—oh, Jungkook…” your mind is all fuzzed up when he snaps his hips against yours, causing you to shamelessly bounce on his length. 

“Yeah?” 

“I… I like it when you use all your strength like that,” his hips slow as your words sink in, but you don’t mind as it gives you time to make a long drag along the entirety of his member. “Everytime you pull me up when I trip, or you come back from a workout, I like it when you carry me around like I weigh nothing.” 

“Do—do you think about it a lot?” he grunts, and you stifle a moan when he does a slow, hard drag against your wet folds. “Tell the truth.” 

“It’s, it’s embarrassing,” you whimper, unable to think straight with the amount of stimuli you’re receiving.  

“Please, baby.” 

“Yes mm—oh! I do,” you try to get the words out as quickly as you can. He stops moving, and you groan in frustration so you just lay it all out on the table. “I, I love it when you hold me in your strong arms. And, ah, uh w-henever you come back from the gym you just look so sexy fresh from the shower. Sometimes I think about how you’re too damn nice for your own good but I bet you’d be so rough in bed.” 

“Really?” and then he’s shoving you onto the couch, air brushing against your bare thighs as your back hits the beige throw pillows. He’s hovering, dark eyes starting from the tip of your toes to your damp lips. “You like it when I manhandle you? Throw you around like a little doll?” 

“All that strength, and for what?” you try to keep your snappy remarks in check, but it’s hard when he’s pressing his straining dick against your thigh, weeping and needy. 

“You’re not gonna be joking about my strength anytime soon, baby,” emblazoned, he easily throws your leg over his shoulder, pushing your panties to the side to let your wetness leak out and onto his fingers, “are you gonna complain or be a good girl?” 

“Yes, I’m ah—” you wince when he inserts a finger, “I’ll be good for you,” 

“My good girl,” he revels in the way you melt under his touch, your previous sarcasm quickly dissolving into a puddle. You always had an inkling that Jungkook would be a sneaky fox in bed, all that muscle hidden behind a kind smile and a penchant for tea with milk and honey. 

Jungkook slips in another finger, stretching you and preparing you for what’s to come. He’s scissoring you at a sensible pace that has you squirming and wanting more. To prevent you from shimmying off the couch he holds you down with his free hand, and you love the way he practically feeds you to the couch, hands dancing over your neck as he shoves you further into the furniture. 

“You look so gorgeous,” he says, causing you to moan and keen at his attention, “you’re such a strong, gorgeous woman. Having you sprawled out like this, ready to do whatever I want to you is so fucking hot.” 

“I’m—I’m only weak for you Jungkook,” you say honestly, tears pricking when he dips another finger. The stretch burns deliciously, and your folds eagerly swallow him up until you’re filled to the brim. Your fingers or toys cannot compare to flesh, and you sigh in relief when you see his inked fingers pick up the pace once more. 

“You’re damn right,” Jungkook husks, and with a grain of love he murmurs in your ear, “I’m only weak for you, too.” 

And that’s when he snaps, thumb rolling against your bud as he slams his other fingers against you, going at a brutal pace. You cry out, not caring whether his neighbors hear as he pulls you back and forth through pleasure and pain. 

“T-too much, Kookie,” you mewl, your hand warbling to find his, “I, ah, ‘m gonna cum!” 

“That’s the plan,” he only goes faster, stretching your band further and further before your desired high is reached. His hand trails up to force your chin straight, looking up at him, “let go for me, baby. Wanna feel your pussy clench around my fingers.” 

In seconds, you gush. It has you in a slight panic, drunk on endorphins as you try to lift your head up but Jungkook’s hand is firmly pressing you on your shoulder as he fingers you efficiently through your high, the wet squelching sounds only increasing with your cries. His lap is drenched in your arousal, along with his chin and lips glistening with your essence. 

He finally releases you when you’re practically shaking, his hands sticky and creamy. You moan when he shamelessly licks them within your view, making sure to wrap his tongue around his ink-stained digits. 

“I,” your mouth is dry when you feel the dampness that hits your bottom, “I’ve never, I don’t remember ever—” 

Your babbles are lost between your throat and Jungkook’s tongue, shoved deep into your mouth. Tasting your arousal has you practically vibrating in your place, as you two rut against each other like hungry bunnies. 

“God, you’re amazing,” he says between pecks, kissing away your face of any tears you may have pricked, “Amazing, adorable, absolutely beautifulIadoreyousoso—” 

“Pleasepleaseplease,” you press your hips up, wiggling for more attention, “please fuck me, Jungkook.” 

You can’t help the witchy, satisfied smile when Jungkook’s eyes darken to a thick coal, “Anything for you,” he murmurs, swinging your legs between his arms as he lifts you like a feather. 

On his lap again, you soon accept that the way you two mesh like puzzle pieces is one of your favorite positions as it gives you both equal space to ravish each other. 

Just when your hand trails to the waistband of his boxer briefs and you’re rolling your thumb over its collected moisture, the moment is shattered when the doorbell rings. You jump in his arms, unprepared for your moment to be interrupted. 

He groans into the crown of your hair, and you soften in his relaxed hold, “I ordered us pizza,” he nearly forgot. 

Perking your head up to look at him you regard him innocently, as if you didn’t release a waterfall on his sweats two seconds ago. “You got us pizza?” 

“I knew you’d be coming over tonight,” he’s pouting into your neck, regretting ever having called the pizza guy if he knew this would happen, “Victoria posted the publish date on Twitter. I just didn’t think,” he gestures vaguely to the mess on his pants, “this would happen.”  

“Damn, and here I thought I was being sneaky,” you chuckle, flicking his ear playfully. 

He gives you an uncharacteristically subby whine, shamelessly upset he has to let you go so fast after he’s given you your first of many highs. Before he weakens further under your beauty, he unceremoniously shoves you off. “Sorry, pretty girl,” you melt at the easy way his pet name rolls off his lips, “can you wait in my room for a bit so I can pay the delivery guy? I don’t want them to see you like this.” 

“But I want to eat pizza,” you declare stubbornly, standing up to button your blouse and pull down your skirt. 

Before you could fasten one button or pull down one centimeter, his hand darts out to snatch your wrist away from your body. It doesn’t hurt much, but it causes your body to heat in more places than one. He’s sexy like this, demanding your attention. “No,” he rumbles definitively, “my room. Now.” 

“Why?” you throw your hands in the air, yelping when he slaps your ass. He makes sure to make it sting, cupping you fully. 

“Because,” he says firmly, “you don’t get to eat until I eat,” you whimper when his hand reaches to cup your sex, panties wet and cold without his warmth as he pushes you in the direction of his bedroom. 

Oh, you can’t wait for both of you to eat tonight. 

some time later.

“Ohmygod the view is beautiful!” Krystal, who works in advertisement, squeals. “No filter needed!” 

“Alright alright, make room Princess,” Namjoon teases. With a bump to Krystal’s tiny hips Namjoon shoves you two across the pavilion, putting his arm around you once he finds the perfect angle, “Umji, can you get a pic of me and my Work Wife? I want this on the Big Hit Instagram!” 

You hold your straw sunhat down from the salty wind, smiling beautifully as Umji takes multiple pictures of you and Namjoon from her Nikon. Another successful year under your notch, ending with a successful work retreat. 

“Namjoon, can I take a picture with my actual wife now?” 

“We’re not married, Jungkook,” you chastise, patting the chest of Namjoon’s floral printed Hawaiian shirt so he can switch. Instantly, Jungkook slides up next to you like a picture perfect stock model piece, and you wrap your arms around his trim waist, “we’re not even engaged.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he pouts, looking over the pavilion and adjusting the both of you so there’s a good amount of you and the resort in the background. The sun may be scathingly hot, but it looks beautiful perched over the crystal clear waters. “Namjoon, you got it easy,” Jungkook says when he hands him your phone, “every angle is our good angle, so you can’t mess it up.” 

Being the honest man he is, Namjoon knows better and doesn’t say anything to that. Instead he shoots down whatever pineapple-flavored concoction is offered to him on a silver platter, and starts shooting. 

“Is this swimsuit new?” Jungkook murmurs into your ear between shots, flicking your little red number by the strap connecting the back, “because I didn’t see this in the luggage.” 

You smile big, pearly whites as Namjoon demands to pop out your butt and work it, pressing your body closer to Jungkook’s. “Tiny enough so I could hide it in my purse,” you reply proudly, voice low for only each other’s ears, “why, surprised?” 

“Definitely not prepared,” his fingers dig deliciously in your bare flesh, “would Victoria fire you if she catches us doing it in the cabana?” 

Amused that your boyfriend now shares your combined awe and fear of your boss, you twist his nipple lightly. He yelps, and from Namjoon’s guaff he’s definitely got that on camera. “We didn’t come to Boracay to fuck in the cabana.” 

“Then the hotel room?” 

Namjoon hands you back your phone when he considers his job done, letting you and Jungkook have some alone time. You wave your phone in his face, trying to get him to focus on the task at hand. You wanted to post some cute pictures of you and your boyfriend, one to impress the family back home and the Big Hit interns back in Seoul who are absolutely pining for your position. 

“Jungkook, they have the water ski thing where you can flip in the water mid air! Doesn’t that sound fun? Or we can go scuba diving, have Filipino food, or get massages. LIterally, we’re on Big Hit’s dime, and the first thing you want to do is go back to the room?” 

“Yes,” he pouts petulantly, leaning into the hollow of your ear and whispering, “got a chub on.” 

Discreetly so, your hands brush against his navy trunks and you note yes, he’s half hard. “No!” you shake your head definitively, pushing him out of your arms. You’re not letting sex get in the way of your hard-earned vacation, you’re on company dime and you intend to milk every peso of it. “Namjoon, take him away!” 

You blow him a kiss and follow another group who’s decided to go eat, watching your boyfriend get dragged away by Namjoon’s long arms. Krystal, who’s been mildly watching the whole ordeal in-between taking selfies, looks at you in awe, “You got it good, bosslady,” she says, and you happily link arms with her in the direction of the restaurants. 

You and Jungkook definitely have it good. You don’t see him until dinnertime, looking utterly relaxed as he sips on a mango-muddled concoction. He must’ve gotten a couples massage with Namjoon, cute. Splitting up was definitely a good idea, by the time your meal arrives the two of you are practically leaning against each other, telling each other what events you need to do tomorrow and events you think will be fun to do together. 

“Joon,” Jungkook is throwing an arm over your Wusband’s shoulder, mildly tipsy. The image is adorable, as Jungkook long ago previously confessed that he felt a little jealous of Namjoon’s work relationship with you before you were dating. Now, it feels like they’re best friends and you’re third-wheeling. “What do you think about having halo-halo tomorrow? It’s like bingsu but with a bunch of other good stuffs. There’s red bean, mango, ube, ice cream…” 

Just as Jungkook begins his tirade of dessert ingredients, you pull up your phone to check on your social media. You smile back at your profile, seeing your latest Instagram post at the very top of the feed. Not to flex, but the two of you look pretty smokin’ since you’ve been keeping up with Jungkook’s insistence to join him at the gym. Jungkook and you are leaning against the pristine veranda, overlooking the clear blue water and a cloudless sky. The smiles you two sport are genuine and utterly in love. 

You scroll down the comments, most of them filled with sweet messages but one of them has you doing a double take. 

@sooyaaa__: 😒😒😒 knew something was goin on behind my back… good riddance

The smell of Jungkook’s detergent overtakes your nostrils, and you turn to him. He’s stopped talking, now immersed in whatever’s going on in your phone. 

“The nerve of her,” Jungkook scrunches his nose, disgusted at her latest comment. “As if anyone would believe her.” 

“Yeah,” you echo, “I feel bad for her, though. She’s probably lonely.” 

“Her loss, she put this upon herself. Not us.” 

You pout, “I know, but she was my friend at one point.” 

He frowns, putting an arm behind your backrest. It would be easy for him to say yeah, and she was my girlfriend and one-up you, leaving it at that. But now he knows better, and that friendship is a much better value than an ill-fated relationship. “Sorry baby,” it’s not his fault, but he sees your disappointment in putting out hope for an old friend. He gives you a little smooch on your temple, “do you miss her?” 

“The old her, yeah,” you sigh, clicking on her profile, “but now? I can do without her negativity.” 

“Okay,” he takes your phone from your hand, “have you ever blocked a person before?”

“No.”

“Well, today’s the day,” he says it so coolly, you barely have time to think when he clicks the ‘block’ button on Jisoo’s profile, then clicking off his phone to put in his pocket. “No more phone for today,” he proceeds to take your plate that was recently served, taking the time to cut your large vegetables into smaller portions. “Like you said, we shouldn’t waste your vacation time.” 

Your heart swells with butterflies for Jeon Jungkook, who’s meticulously cutting your food and telling you to relax and stop dwelling on the past. He’s right, if Jisoo’s not going to stick around for the future and continue to cause negativity in your life, why not keep the positives in the past while it lasted? 

“You know I love you, right?” 

He ceases cutting, and looks at you to pop a sweet potato in his mouth. “Love me enough to do it in the cabana?” 

He’s still on that? “Jungkook,” you warn, pretending to get up, “forget I said anything. I’m gonna go karaoke with Umji.” 

“Kiddingggg,” he whines, pulling you back down with an outstretched hand, “you know I love you too.” 

“You’re terrible.” 

“Only this way because I’d know you’d totally be into cabana sex if we were vacationing by ourselves.” 

“Yes, but you’re still terrible,” you giggle when Jungkook steals a kiss, just as easy as he’s stolen your heart.  

[smellsfaintlyofvanilla]

I wanna wrap Hange up in a blanket and tell them they are doing their best 😢 if you don’t mind can you write Hange and reader taking a bath together and it being fluffy.

I just know they reek to high hell

Still love 'em though

Soft

(Zoe Hange x Reader)

AU: Unspecified

Warnings: None

Category: Fluff

Summary: Finally fed up with Hange's poor hygiene, their S/O forces them to bathe with them. Chaos ensues.

Words: 1.6K

"Y/nnnnnnn!"

"No."

"But c'mon!" Hange whined, throwing their arms around your shoulders. You quickly pushed them off, walking away in an act of defiance, despite the little voice in the back of your head telling you to give in to their demands.

"Hange, you reek." You scoff, crossing your arms and giving them a disapproving look. They had finally finished their long day of work, and immediately went up to you for your usual nighttime cuddles, but you had refused—they hadn't bathed in over a month at this point, and you were starting to get sick of it. It wasn't even the actual smell, more so just a concern for your lover's lack of hygiene.

"Just for tonight?" They bargained, "Just tonight, I'm really tired, I'll bathe in the morning."

"You always say that, but you never do, y'know." You muttered, turning away.

A beat passes, and neither of you say anything.

Finally, you sigh, breaking the silence.

"I'll bathe with you, if that'll convince you." You mumbled, and Hange's face immediately lit up, excited by the offer.

"That works!" They grinned, already unbuttoning their shirt and pulling it over their head.

You raise an eyebrow. "Don't look so excited." You mutter, turning to leave. "I'll go start the water."

You shut the door behind you, heading towards your shared bathroom. Seldom was the bath itself used by anyone but you, so you already had all the soaps and shampoos organized perfectly to your liking. You flicked on the knob, putting your hand under the water until it turned hot and plugging the drain to let the bath fill.

While waiting for the bath to fill, you slowly undid your shirt as well, discarding it, and the rest of your clothing, to a neat pile on the floor, wrapping your bare body in a towel to fight the cold air of the room.

A few loud knocks on the bathroom door brought you out of your thoughts, making you jump.

The perpetrator, Hange, didn't bother waiting for an answer, pushing the door wide open, causing you to flush bright red.

"Hange, close the door!" You whisper-yelled, rushing over to shut the door. Luckily, both of you were wrapped in towels, so if anyone did walk by, they wouldn't see much, but you still wanted complete privacy in that moment.

"Sorry, sorry..." They whispered back, laughing a bit to themselves.

When you had turned around, Hange had already removed their towel, dipping their leg into the bath and swirling it around a bit, testing the temperature.

"Feel okay?" You asked, walking over to them and setting a hand on their shoulder.

"Yeah, it's pretty nice actually..." They sighed, climbing in and resting against the edge of the tub. You joined them silently, discarding the towel and slinking in right after, sitting on the opposite side of the tub.

"You're right... it is really warm." You exhaled, leaning back to take in the feeling of the hot water against your skin. A nice relaxing bath, plus Hange, and it was almost therapeutic. "Still," you muttered, sitting up and causing the water to slosh a bit at the movement. "We don't have forever until it gets cold. Turn around."

They cocked their head to the side, gazing on in confusion until you pulled out a bottle of shampoo, squirting a bit of it into your hands. "Well? Are you gonna come over?"

"Oh, right..." They mumbled, scooting over to turn their back to you with an uncharacteristic awkwardness.

You rub the soap together in your hands briefly, spreading it across both palms before moving your fingers to work their way through Hange's hair, massaging their scalp in the process.

"Oh wow..." They sighed, leaning their back against your stomach fully and closing their eyes in relief.

You raise an eyebrow, continuing the lather the soap through Hange's greasy hair. "What's so 'wow' right now?"

"I've never had anybody wash my hair before... it feels nice..."

"Hange, I would be surprised if you even remember what it feels like to wash your hair in general." You chuckle, causing them to scoff in faux offense and rise a little in the water, turning their head to the side.

"Come on now, don't move so much, you're gonna get the soap in your eyes." You warn, grabbing them gently by the cheeks to face them in the same direction they were facing mere moments ago.

They close their eyes once again, not bothering with a response as your fingers work through their hair with the gentle caring of an angel.

Having finished spreading the soap through their hair, you took a small scoop of water in your hands, pouring it over your lover's head, rinsing the soap from their hair. Teasingly, you take a scoop and dump it directly over their face, causing them to jump, snapping out of their relaxed trance to turn to look at you with bewilderment.

"What was that for??" They questioned, moving the hands up to swipe away the soap that roamed dangerously close to theirs eyes.

"Oh, I don't know," You smirked, leaning back against the porcelain tub with a cheeky expression. "Just felt like it I guess."

"You little...!" They growled, swiping their arms to splash a gush of soapy water in your direction. You jumped out of your spot, desperately wiping the soap from your searing eyes.

"Owww... Hange!" You half-groaned, half-laughed, glancing up at them with a mischievous look. It's on.

You splashed back at them, sending a powerful gush of water in their direction, but they managed to block their face with their arms just in time to send another wave of water back, equally as powerful.

The water fight was passionate, but short lasting. After a few minutes of back and forth, you had realized just how much water had left the tub and soaked the floor around you two.

"Oh my god, Hange, look at this mess." You groaned, leaning over the edge of the tub, annoyed at the prospect of all the future cleaning.

"You started it!" They laughed, draping an arm around your shoulder and yanking you against their chest.

"Oof- Hange!" You groan, wiggling in their arms. It was no use, though, as their strength outmatched yours, locking you in against their chest.

"You're stuck here, whether you like it or not." They giggled, tugging at the back of your head to pull you into their shoulder, hugging you warmly like a beloved stuffed toy.

Now having access to Hange's collarbone, a sinister idea formulated in your mind. Without warning, you bit down on the soft flesh, emitting a surprised yelp from Hange.

They yanked your hair, pulling you away from their collar with an annoyed expression. "You're always scheming something, aren't you?"

You laugh out loud, shooting them a look and shrugging your shoulders. "What can I say? You present too many opportunities."

"Oh yeah? What are you planning right now then?" They tighten their hold on your hair, moving your head in tandem with theirs, only to stop inches away from each other.

You don't answer, instead lurching forward to crash your lips into theirs, and putting your hands on their shoulders to push them back-up against the tub.

As soon as you pull away, opening your eyes and catching your breath, Hange gives you a smirk before shoving you against the opposite end of the bath and leaning over to straddle your thigh.

"No fair," They whine playfully, "I wanna be on top!"

"Hange!" You punch their shoulder jokingly, face heating up at the dirty remark. "Jeez, way to make it awkward..."

"I'm not the nervous one here, you are." They reminded with a smirk.

"Just shut up and kiss me." You exhale, leaning forward to connect your lips once again. They ease into the second kiss immediately, moving against you fluidly, having long gotten used to the feeling of your colliding lips.

Suddenly, they pull away from the kiss, moving to drop their head on your shoulders, a hand slinking down to entwine your fingers in their own.

"I love you... so much..." They mutter into the crook of your neck, causing you to shudder, but run a soft hand through their hair anyway.

"I love you too, Hange." You smile, leaning down to peck them on the top of their head.

They move up from your shoulder, leaning in once again, but this time, they rest their forehead against yours, closing their eyes and taking a long exhale.

"Seriously. I love you so much, you don't get it." They sigh, moving against you to press your bodies even closer together. "You're always taking such good care of me... making sure I'm okay... what did I ever do to deserve someone like you?" They chuckle, but you hear the slight waver in the noise.

"Hange, you're amazing. Don't ever doubt that for a second. I take care of you and stay with you because I love you, you're the most important person in my life. You're really amazing, you know?" You smile warmly at them, wrapping an arm around their neck to tug their parted lips teasingly closer to your own.

"Yeah, of course..." They mutter, their heart beating faster and their mind swarmed with the feelings of love that seemed to exude off of you whenever you were around. "I love you, darling."

"I love you too." You sigh, moving your head to connect your lips once again, chapped lips, yet kissing so softly.

Anyway, goodnight y'all. I need sleep (and grass lmaooo)

[let-me-write-shit]

imagine like riding harry and he’s choking you and mocking you bc you can barely move your hips bc it feels too good. and then you have to beg him to fuck up into you 🥵🥵

Word Count: 3,021

A/N: This was also partially inspired by another anon request I got that read :

‘one where Harry and yn doing a painting with a twist or bob ross painting together but making it a bit smutty’

Warning: SMUT!!!!!!!!! lots of smut!! Choking, dom behavior. Just nasty.

Requests are OPEN! If you have a request for a blurb, oneshot, imagine, whatever, Send me a message HERE!!!

And don’t forget to let me know what you think! Enjoy.

CLICK HERE TO READ OTHER COMPLETED STORIES

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Loving You Is Art

Quality time with Harry was few and far between these days. It seemed that the two of you were constantly being pulled apart in every which direction, what with him preparing for a new album release and your career finally gaining momentum. You were lucky if you were even able to sit down at the end of the day and eat a meal together without interruption. You should be used to it by now after two years of dating, but it never got any easier.

He tried his best; leaving a note for you on the kitchen counter in the morning next to a pot of coffee, sending little texts throughout the day, and calling to warn you if he’d be late. Communication was important to you and he made an effort to show it. But sometimes that wasn’t enough. You missed him. 

So, you decided to surprise him. You’d planned tonight for two weeks now, making sure to get caught up on your work, calling Harry’s manager to ask him if he could please not plan too much on this particular Friday without tipping your boyfriend off, and order in all the supplies for your date night. You wanted to make it extra special so when Harry walked in the door he’d not only be surprised, but excited.

He had texted you when he left his meeting and you knew you had about fifteen minutes to get it ready. Quickly, you spread an enormous tarp across the floor of your living room, dragging in two chairs, two easels, two canvases, a large canvas sheet that you spread over the floor, and a table with paintbrushes, a cup of water, and various paints. Lastly, you stripped out of your clothes and put on only three items. A black, silk robe, a pair of black strappy heels, and Harry’s pearl necklace, twisting your hair up into a clip and letting the strands drape back down. As you poured two glasses of wine, you heard the door open and close, heavy footsteps making their way further into the home you both shared.

“Baby? What’s all this?” you heard his voice echo down the hall. 

The clacking of your heels caught his attention as you made your way in, wine glasses in hand, and the confused smile on his face shifted, replaced with wide eyes and his mouth falling open.

“Hi,” you smirked, pecking at the corner of his mouth. He leaned into you as you pulled away, disappointed that you parted from him so quickly, taking the glass of wine that you offered. “Strip,” you simply said, sitting on a chair that was positioned in front of one of the easels, taking a sip of your wine.

He didn’t need any further explanation, quickly doing what he was told. You giggled under your breath at his eagerness as he kicked his shoes off and practically tore the shirt off of his torso, exposing his black ink-riddled tattoos, undressing until all that was left was his boxers. Your smirk grew, placing your wine glass on the table beside your easel and standing up. Keeping your eye contact, you lifted the end of the strap that had held your robe shut, looping it through your fingers, teasingly. His eyes darted from your face, down towards your hand, and back up again as you shifted your weight on your heels. 

“All the way,” you nodded towards him, your voice low and sultry, and with one hard tug, you ripped your sash away, letting your robe come undone and flitter to the ground at your feet. 

Harry froze for a moment, staring at your naked body, the way your legs looked in your heels and noting how his pearls looked against your bare chest. He gulped, speechless, unable to move until you sat back down on your chair, crossing your legs, leaning back, and pulling your glass of wine back to your lips. If you blinked, you would have missed it. His boxer briefs were halfway across the room a second later, his cock large and erect, bouncing as he hustled to his chair and sat. 

He seemed to understand what was going on as you each grabbed a brush, but you explained it anyway, “Paint me,” you grinned, making him smile.

“I won’t be able to do you justice,” he looked you up and down with a smirk, looking at the color options, “Especially with only three colors.”

You giggled, dipping your brush into the black paint, “Do your best.”

You lightly began blotting and stroking the color onto the canvas, occasionally looking up at him in an attempt to get a general outline first. You weren’t a great artist, he knew this. That’s why you didn’t even bother getting a large selection of colors. Most of the artwork in your home was more modernized with a combination of abstract and contemporary, anyway. So you decided to stick with the theme and colors which were black, white, and hints of a baby blue. 

You tried to focus your painting more on his torso, from his chin down to his pelvic area, just where his pubic hair began to form. You peered at him through your eyelashes and bit your bottom lip at the sight of his abs tightening and relaxing as he went to town on his canvas, widely brushing his paint onto his canvas.

“Done!” he exclaimed, throwing his brush into the cup of water.

You snapped out of your trance, your mouth opened wide in indignation, “There’s no way!”

“I am!” he declared, a confident smirk on his face, “You told me to paint you, so I did!”

“Let me see!” you demanded, gripping your paintbrush in hand, black paint beginning to drip down the handle.

Confidently, Harry picked his painting off the easel and turned it around to face you. Your eyes rolled wildly when you saw what he had done. He painted the background black, and in baby blue paint drew a childlike version of tits that looked like two u’s with dots for nipples.

“Great. Well done, you twat,” you joked, flinging the paint that was on the end of your brush in his direction which splattered on his painting, also hitting his chest and thigh.

He shrieked, staring at the paint that hand landed on him before looking up with a mischievous smile. “Oh, is that how we’re playing it? Sabotage?” he gaped, head tilted as he reached for another paintbrush, dipping it into the white.

“Harry!” you threatened, giggling, hands up in defense, “Don’t you dare.”

“Don’t I?” he mocked, holding his paintbrush back in ready, “Last I checked, you were the one who threw the first punch.” And he launched the paint towards you, white paint splattering across your neck, chest, and arm. 

You yelped, quickly standing up in shock that he had done it. Harry cackled at the expression on your face as you slowly looked up at him, mouth ajar. Your eyes flickered to the bottles of paint that sat on the table in between you and he noticed, watching you as a light had clicked in your brain. 

“No!” he warned.

But you were too quick. In a split second, you had managed to grab the bottle of black paint and began squirting it in his direction, splattering it on his torso and watching it drip down the front of him. And you laughed wildly as he grabbed the blue and white paint bottles, pointing and squeezing them in your direction as the two of you circled each other, using your easels as fruitless efforts in attempting to shield yourselves.

Paint was everywhere. Your bodies were the canvas now, dollops of blue and white running down the arch of your back and the curves of your breasts, down past your bellybutton, dripping onto your feet. When you attempted to swipe the hair our of your face, you inadvertently left a smear of black paint on your cheek and forehead, making Harry laugh.

Black paint had managed to drip in the creases of his newly defined abs that he had been working so hard on these past few months, his hands having smeared most of the paint on his chest which somehow made him look even more toned. You laughed, tossing your empty paint bottle to the side as harry stepped closer, grinning, and dumping the last of the white and blue paint on your chest, his pearl necklace now smeared in color and barely recognizable. 

He booped you on the nose with his index finger, leaving a trace of blue on the tip of your nose as he pressed his body closer to yours, making the black paint on his torso mix with the blue and white on yours and whispering, “You look a little wet.”

“You have no idea,” you held your breath, tingling wildly throughout your body like you always did when the sexual tension began to build. 

His lips twitched, his face was so close to yours that you could feel the warmth of his breath starting to dry the paint that smeared on your face, legs starting to feel weak. His mouth hovered over yours, lips grazing, taunting, until finally he pressed his against yours, hungrily pulling you closer to him, both of your hands roaming each other’s bodies. No grip was tight enough to pull your bodies closer together.

The two of you slowly began to guide each other to the ground where you stood, on top of the fabric canvas that you had set aside to attempt to do some sort of line art of the two of you. That idea was ruined as it had now been splattered in paint and riddled with black, blue, and white footprints. He laid you down on your back, situating himself in between your legs that straddle his hips, pressing his hands on the canvas beside your head while your fingers ran through his hair, leaving streaks of paint in his browl, curly locks. 

He pulled away to give you another look, smirking at the mess of color on your body and tracing a heart around your naval before he bent back down, crashing his lis on yours again. Normally, as a part of your foreplay routine, you’d share turns going down on each other, tasting each other’s juices and letting Harry play in your pussy for a bit, but with the paint, that wasn’t an option. Luckily, the need for foreplay wasn’t necessary. The past twenty minutes of teasing was enough to get you ready and his tip prodded at your cunt for a minute before slipping right in, warm and wet, just like he liked it.

You gasped at the abruptness, arching your back as he started to pump, clasping your legs tighter around his waist, “Fuck, Harry,” you managed.

Your little moans of delight always reassured him, gaining more confidence as he pumped harder into you, “Ya like that, do ya?” he ran his hand down your breast and to your hip, pulling himself back slightly and pulling you up higher so that your butt was off the ground and he could see your tits bouncing as he railed you, “Let me hear it, y/n. Let me hear how much ya like it.”

His thirst for you always got you heated for more and your voice got louder for him, screaming out his name, “God, your cock is so fucking big, Harry! Fuck! That feels so good!”

“You’re so wet,” he grunted, gritting his teeth and going faster now. His force began to lessen and you could tell he was starting to get tired, so you pushed him out of you and sat up, seeing the mess that was being made on the canvas below you.

“Lay down,” you demanded, moving aside.

He licked his lips, panting, and laying back down on the canvas like he was told before you straddled his hips once more, lowering yourself onto him. His hands naturally went to your heps, but you grabbed them, pinning them above his head which always drove him crazy. He let his head fall back, eyes fluttering shut and mouth agape as you bounced your ass onto him, his cock rock-hard inside of you.

“Oh my god,” you heard him whisper under his breath before he forced his head up to see your breasts bouncing in his face, desperate to take one into his mouth and flick his tongue over your paint-riddled nipples. 

“You like that tight pussy?” you breathes into his mouth, biting his lip before pulling away and placing your palms on his chest, using him as leverage to ride his cock, bouncing on him faster.

With his hands now free from your grasp, he snaked them up your body, giving your tits a quick squeeze, before firmly wrapping around your neck. Your body tensed for a moment. He smirked, knowing what he was doing. Choking was your kink. Not too tight where you couldn’t breathe, but firm enough on the sides of your throat where you could feel your pulse more clearly underneath his grip. You let out a loud moan, attempting to ride him harder, but your pace slowed, hips barely able to move. You were close. Too close. 

Your body shook, trying to force your thighs to do their job and move, but they wouldn’t budge. Harry sniggered, “Gonna cum, are ye? My cock too much for you to handle?”

His hands loosened their grip around your neck, and you cried out, “No, don’t!” Grabbing his hand and forcing it back to your neck. Out of breath and shaking from pure pleasure, you kept trying to go faster, but you only slowed down.

He raised an eyebrow, taunting you, “Need me to fuck you?” he snickered, earning a  pleading nod from you. His hand lingered around your throat, running his thumb on your jaw and he smirked, “How bad do you want it?”

You glowered down at him, attempted to readjust, trying to see if there was another position that could get you the right amount of momentum, but your efforts were futile. With every movement you made, a small gasp escaped your lips. You were teetering on the edge of climax, unable to move, and it was agony.

“Harry, fuck me!” You begged, forcing your own hands around his throat, “Please, fuck me!”

His eyes grew more ravenous, jaw clenching and clutching the pearls that hung around your neck, tightening his grip on them so that they began to squeeze at your throat. Your begging was all it took. He forced his cock up into you so fast and so hard that you were practically being lifted up off the ground. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head in rapture, sounds you didn’t even know you could make being forced from your mouth.

His mouth puckered, eyes wandering from your head that flew back in pleasure, to your breasts, covered in paint and smeared to look more gray with specs of blue dotting down to your belly button. Your moans started to become shorter and more loud, body tensing and a chill running down your spine, “Just like that, babe! Keep going. Right there!” You panted until you let out one long, loud scream. 

Your screams sent him over the edge, letting gown of the pearls around your neck and gripping on your hips harder, pulling you down onto him as he pushed up into you. His grunts getting faster and his lower jaw jutting out. “You’re so-fucking-sexy!” he grumbled in between thrusts before his final, deep, long thrust into you, pulling you tight onto his cock as he came inside of you, letting out a low, deep moan. 

You collapsed onto him, the rising and falling of his chest matching your breathing, leaying their for a moment before you rolled off of him, both of you sprawled onto the tarp that covered the floor, naked and covered in paint. The two of you laid there for a moment until you started to feel the paint beginning to dry on your leg, and before you could say anything, he turned his head to face you.

Sweat beaded his forehead and he was finally beginning to catch his breath when he smiled at you, dimples evident in his cheeks, “You’re amazing.”

You grinned, forcing yourself up and attempting to hide the shakiness of your legs, “I know.”

The two of you helped shower each other off and clean up your mess as much as possible. Both canvases that were on the easels were trashed and you had to wipe the paint splatters off of the wooden chairs and tables, but for the most part, the tarp had done a good job at making sure paint hadn’t gotten on the floor. There was only one little spot of blue stain that gotten onto the molding of the wall from when Harry flicked paint at you, but it was barely noticable if you weren’t looking for it. 

As for the fabric of canvas, at first they were going to get rid of it. But, the more they looked at it, the more they fell in love with it. It was very abstract, black, white, and blue smeared all over, parts of it mixing into grey. If you looked hard enough, you could see the streaks from their handprints and the blue and white circles where your knees and feet had been when you rode him. You decided to attach it to stretcher bars and have it framed, putting it above the sitting room fireplace.

Harry loved having this huge canvas of art on display; knowing how it was made and how prominently it was displayed for everyone who came over to see turned into a little kink of his. Whenever someone commented on how cool it looked, the two of you would always share a look and smirk, and when you had a split second of privacy, he’d kiss you with such intensity that reminded you of that night.

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

Taglist:

@odetostep

[potionsprefect]

A Hawaiian Prank

Pairings: Ethan Ramsey x Victoria Clarke

Word count: 1.2k

Summary: He thought it was going to be a relaxing break.

Rating: General Audiences

Category: fluff

A missing scene from chapter 11 of book 3

Whenever Ethan had a rare day off, he usually spent it reading a book. He couldn’t remember the last time he took a vacation but it was a welcomed surprise.

He of course wouldn’t miss Ines’ wedding for anything. He was just surprised he was having more time off, so soon after coming back from suspension.

Currently, Ethan was sat on the beach next to the hotel reading a medical journal he had bought with him. He was expecting to finish the book on this trip but he figured a certain blonde haired third year resident would have other ideas.

Ethan looked up and saw other hospital staff set up base on the beach, some putting sun cream on, others heading straight for the water. Ethan went back to reading his book, not seeing who he wanted.

It was around 10 minutes later and someone had approached Ethan. He found the book taken out of his hands and put to one side before someone nestled next to him, throwing an arm across his midsection.

“I was just about to start the last chapter.” Ethan chuckled.

“You can read it when we’re in bed. You should enjoy the beautiful scenery.” Victoria replied.

“Which one? The beach or the woman next to me?” Ethan teased.

“Smooth Ramsey. Now be a good boy and rub sun cream on my back. I just can’t reach that area you know.” Victoria grinned handing Ethan the bottle as she sat up.

Ethan laughed as he squirted some of the cream into his hands and rubbed it over Victoria’s back, covering all areas. As he rubbed it in, he pressed a small kiss to Victoria’s neck, eliciting a soft sigh from her.

“Thank you.” Victoria pressed a soft kiss to his lips before snuggling beside him.

“Am I allowed to go back to my book?” Ethan asked chuckling.

“As you’ve been good I’ll allow it.” Victoria replied.

“Thank you for permission.” Ethan said sarcastically.

“Anytime.” Victoria winked grinning.

Ethan picked up his book and opened it, holding it up in one hand as his other arm went around Victoria bring her closer. She laid her head on his chest as he stroked her hair, the sensation making her sleepy and it wasn’t long before she dozed off.

Ethan finished the book in no time before putting it back into his bag and pulling Victoria tighter against his chest. The peacefulness of having her in his arms made him smile and at this particular moment, nothing could dampen his mood.

Ethan found himself shutting his eyes, enjoying the serenity around him. It didn’t take long for him to fall into a similar sleeping pattern as Victoria, the couple wrapped up in each other under the Hawaiian sun.

— — — — —

“And that ladies and gentlemen, is how you do a cutback.” Bryce grinned as he exited the water, surf board in hand.

“I think I’ll stick to more tranquil activities like snorkelling.” Sienna replied.

“Yeah nothing can beat looking at the fish and stingrays.” Aurora agreed.

“I prefer the thrill. Plus I looked totally fantastic out there.” Bryce winked.

“We’re only a day in and you’re already insufferable scalpel jockey.” Jackie rolled her eyes.

“I’m in my home state Jackie, let me live.” Bryce held a hand to his heart pretending to be wounded.

“Who else to teach us how to relax.” Rafael laughed.

“Nah that’s Victoria’s job. She’s the queen of face packs and oils.” Elijah laughed.

“Speaking of Victoria where is she?” Bryce asked.

“Where do you think?” Rafael laughed pointing further down the beach to where Victoria and Ethan were.

“They look so in love.” Sienna sighed happily.

“Has he actually told her he loves her yet?” Rafael asked.

“Nope. Dr Terminator is known for having a heart of stone.” Elijah replied.

“Does that look like a stone heart to you?” Aurora asked.

“How one woman has the power to bring a man to his knees I’ll never know.” Rafael said.

Jackie and Bryce were looking at each other, then grinned, both of them thinking of the same idea.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Bryce grinned.

“How many buckets do you have?” Jackie said.

“Two. But that’s more than enough.” Bryce replied. He passed a bucket to Jackie who got up and headed into the water to fill it up.

“Are you doing what I think you’re doing?” Sienna asked.

“We sure are double oh tiny.” Bryce winked.

“You’re mean.”

“We’re just having a bit of fun Aurora. Given how much Ramsey has softened since outing him and Vic, I think he’ll find this funny.” Jackie.

“I think your version and his version of funny are different. But nevertheless I’m in.” Elijah laughed.

“Raf do us a favour and film it so I can look back and laugh.” Bryce chucked him his phone.

“Gladly. Although if he gets angry I’m directing him to you.” Rafael chuckled.

“Deal.”

Jackie and Bryce quietly made their way over to where Ethan and Victoria were sleeping, carrying two buckets of water.

Rafael set himself up in front of the couple, phone in hand as Bryce and Jackie appeared behind them

Bryce counted down from three slowly. Once at one, he tipped the water over Ethan, Jackie doing the same with Victoria.

“What the hell?!” Victoria sat up looking around.

“It was too good an opportunity to pass.” Bryce replied laughing.

“Should’ve stayed in the hotel room.” Jackie laughed high fiving Bryce.

“I had no say in this.” Rafael said handing Bryce back his phone.

“I have to say, it was an unexpected yet welcomed surprise.” Ethan chuckled.

“Wait... you’re not mad?” Bryce asked.

“It’s 86 outside Lahela, I don’t think a bit of sea water will have any lasting effect.” Ethan replied.

“Fair enough.”

“Did you just... break Doctor Terminator?” Jackie looked at Bryce bewildered.

“I think you’ll find I did that in more ways than one.” Victoria winked.

Jackie pretended to gag whilst Rafael and Bryce laughed.

“Hang on, my medical book is wet.” Ethan said looking in his bag.

“Run for it.” Bryce said dashing back up the beach, Jackie and Rafael following him closely behind.

“Finally alone.” Ethan said pulling Victoria back into his arms once the others were out of earshot.

“Was your book really wet?”

“What do you think?” Ethan laughed.

“Impressive thinking. It’s nice to know that there is still some part of Doctor Terminator on this trip.”

“Yeah about that... care to explain?”

“I will do one day. For now I’ll keep you guessing.” Victoria grinned.

Two can play at that game, Ethan thought. In one swift movement, he was on his feet, picking Victoria up bridal style and walking them both into the water. Once he was waist deep, he let her go.

“Is that how you play things now Ramsey?” Victoria laughed as she came back up to the surface.

“Upping my game around you is something I’d happily do.” Ethan laughed back.

“I like seeing this side of you.” Victoria smiled wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Luckily I like you being the one I bring it out for.” Ethan said leaning down to kiss Victoria, wrapping his arms around her waist.

Back on the beach, Victoria’s friends were watching the couple with smiles on their faces.

“Still think Ramsey has a heart of stone?” Aurora turned to Elijah.

“I think it’s more a heart full of love.”

“Remember, he hasn’t said it yet.” Sienna said.

“I wouldn’t give him too long. If he doesn’t say it by the end of our residency, I will buy everyone drinks in Donahues.” Jackie said.

“You’ve got yourself a deal.”

— — — — —

I couldn’t resist exploring this idea that popped into my head 😂

Let me know if you would like to be tagged or removed

Tag list:

@ohchoices @openheartfan @queencarb @genevievemd @iemcpbchoices @choicesaddict5 @schnitzelbutterfingers @alina-yol-ramsey @stygianflood @malakemads-blog @gryffindordaughterofathena @openheartfanfics @rookie-ramsey @sophxwithers @romewritingshop @ethansramsey @codykosuckmytoe @mrsethanfreakingramsey @coffeeheartaddict @mm2305 @nikki-2406 @maurine07 @nishas-paradise @replayfootsteps @mainstreetreader @anntoldst0ries @aleynareads @lsvdw-blog @kiara-36 @quixoticdreamer16

@choicesficwriterscreations

[mizunetzu]

Can you do Daichi x male reader where Daichi asks his boyfriend to come over to meet his team and he forgets and goes home so Daichi give him a call and is like "where you at?" "I cant come I look like a clown." "I bet you dont look that bad." "No you dont get it im in full drag." So his boyfriend comes to the gym in full drag, booby and butt pads, and monster heels, and when he walked in it's like Kags that recognizes him as his drag name.

LMAOOJSKE DRAG QUEEN READEKRNRNF

——————

Daichi x reader - DRAG QUEEN?!

⚠️warnings - drag queen, college first year reader x high school 3rd year (if that’s even a warning skdjd)

Pronouns- male, he/him

——————

Daichi said it on impulse, really.

“Do you guys...wanna meet my boyfriend?”

Everyone in the gym stopped. They were in middle of a practice match between themselves, and just when Yamaguchi was about to serve, he choked on air and missed the ball completely. The ball flew in the air, before landing somewhere near his feet.

Everyone stared at Daichi with a variety of expressions. Some shocked, some looking at him like he ‘said I’m gonna chop my dick off,’ and some who didn’t even care. (Tsukishima, obviously.) Ukai had to call timeout, since no one could focus after what Daichi blurted out.

Suga chuckled awkwardly, slinging a towel over his shoulders. “So uh, ahaha, your um...gay...?” His voice progressively died down into a whisper.

“Yeah. Is...that’s a problem?”

“No! No! I fully support y-“

“AND YOU CHOSE NOW TO TELL US? DUDE, WE COULD’VE LIKE, THROWN YOU A COMING-OUT PARTY!” Tanaka shook his captaincy the shoulders, while Noya squirted water into his mouth with his squeeze bottle.

“Well I don’t really mind, I’m already out, I was just asking if you wanted to meet him.”

“DO WE?! OF COURSE WE DO! DOES HE PLAY VOLLEYBALL?! DO YOU THINK HE COULD JOIN THE TEAM?!” Hinata jumped up and down, slowly inching is way towards Daichi with an awestruck look on his face. He’s rather surprised Hinata isn’t more shocked.

“Yeah. Uh-no, sorry. He doesn’t play.” Daichi chuckled, patting an excited looking hinata on the head. “I don’t think he has work tomorrow, so tomorrow’s really the only time he can come to practice.”

“Work?” Asahi looked up from the towel he was using to wipe off his sweat. “How old is he? Is he a third year?”

“He’s a first year in college. Actually-I think he goes to the college in Sendai.”

Asahi exhaled. It would’ve been weird if someone as young as a highschooler were to already be working, when the could be enjoying their time in classes or clubs. “Where does he work?”

Flashbacks of all the drag shows and money being thrown around a stage whipped across Daichis mind like a slap to the face. He’s sure the team wouldn’t mind, especially because they already don’t mind him having a boyfriend, but he isn’t sure if (Y/n) was ok with him telling his team he was a...y’know.

“...I’m not sure?”

————

“Oh-hello Daikkun! How was practice today?” (Y/n) opened the passenger seat to his door, waiting for him to step inside. Sometimes he liked to pick him up from school before he had to get in makeup for a night show. That didn’t stop him from doing a little bit of eyeliner, though.

“It was nice. I told them they could meet you soon. The team.”

“Really?!”

“Yeah, you don’t have any shows tomorrow, right? I kind of told them tomorrow.” Daichi scrubbed at the back of his neck, while (y/n) started up his car. “I know you’ve wanted to meet them.”

“You bet your ass! Well-I mean I have a show at like 2 am but that doesn’t matter. What time can I come? Are they nice? Didn’t you say there was one who was really short but could jump as high as me in stilettos?”

“Oi-! Focus on the road!”

“Sorry, sorry! I’m just excited. Anyways! Can you come to my show tonight? I’ll sneak you in.”

“Every time I go to one of your drag shows I get scared someone will kick me out since I’m 17.”

“Dude, have you seen yourself?!” (Y/n) gestures over to Daichi, putting emphasis on his thigh-region. “You’re big and muscly enough to at least pass as 18. It’s just a one year difference, when’s your birthday again?”

“I can’t believe you forgot, I’m hurt.” Daichi chuckled, fiddling with his backpack straps on his lap. “Besides, doesn’t your show run kind of late today? I don’t get to choose when to take my classes like you, (L/n). And I have morning practice, so I need to sleep.”

“You’re no fun, Daikkun.”

“Yeah, yeah, My house is over there.”

————

(Y/n) scrolled through his phone for the nth time that day. Fanning himself dramatically, he huffed and buried his face into his pillow. There was nothing to do today, and since he took morning classes, that left him with the rest of the afternoon to ponder, before working at night.

Was there something to do today? Was he forgetting something? He felt like he was, but he couldn’t quite place his finger on it.

He glanced guilty at a tube of light pink lip gloss tossed haphazardly on his desk. A light bulb went off in his head.

Hastily throwing his covers off his body, (y/n) dragged himself over to his closet, grabbing the lip gloss in the process. He shuffled through hangers of clothes, finally pulling out a girls uniform he bought from when he was in high school. He never wore it to school, choosing to wear the boys uniform, but he thought it’d be nice to have when he was feeling fruity.

Slipping on the skirt and cardigan, he walked over to his desk mirror. He unscrewed the wand from the tube of lip gloss, tentatively applying it generously to his lips. He shrugged. He figured he could do some more makeup. It’s not like he’s busy today, right?

Carefully winging the tip of his eyeliner, he took a step back and admired himself in the mirror. He looked cute, yeah, but cute wasn’t really his style. It screamed ‘cute femboy’ rather than his usual ‘sexy ass drag queen dominatrix who could step on you with their sharp ass knife heels’

Damn. He was really about to go all out, huh? Time to bring out the butt pads and fake boobs.

————

Sighing contently in front of the mirror, (y/n) did a little spin, puffing out the length of his dress. Damn, he was hot. And with his impossibly high monster heels? Take me now.

(Y/n) was in the midst of taking a couple cute selfies in front of his full length mirror, when his screen went grey and a caller ID appeared.

‘Incoming call - Daikkun!! <3’

(Y/n) smiled unconsciously and clicked the bright green button with his thumb. He brought his phone to his ear and twirled a piece of his faux wig with his finger.

“Hi Daikkun! Did you need something, cutie?”

“Are you still coming over?” Daichis voice was hushed, and the slam of volleyballs rang though his speaker.

“Uh-what for?”

“To meet my team? Where are you?”

Fuck.

(Y/n) paled as he eyed himself in the mirror. He couldn’t show up looking like that. And it was too much to take off before Daichis practice ended. This was the only time he had to meet this team Daichi had always been talking about, and he’d completely forgot.

“...I can’t, I look like a clown.” (Y/n’s) voice came out a hoarse, nervous-chuckly whisper. He could taste the expensive red lipstick sitting on his lips.

“I’m sure you don’t look that bad.”

“Dude no, you don’t understand.” (Y/n) picked at the hem of his dress, the silicone boobs suddenly squeezing his chest a bit too tightly. “I’m in full drag.”

A silence rang out from both sides of the line. Daichi awkwardly chuckled.

“Ahaha uh-didn’t you say you didn’t have work today?”

“No! No I-I don’t have work til like-later later but like-I got bored and I forgot I was gonna meet your team today...sorry-“

“Well I’m sure they won’t mind if you show up in drag. I mean-they seemed pretty ok with knowing we’re a thing so...?”

(Y/n) gulped.

“...I guess I’ll see you in ten minutes then.”

—————

“Good work everyone!”

Ukai dismissed the players, leaving them to start rolling up the net and cleaning up the gym. Sugawara jogged up to the captain, dragging his mop lazily behind him.

“You said your boyfriend was gonna come today, right? Where is he?”

“Uh,” Daichi checked his wrist, before realizing he didn’t have a watch and fished out his phone. “He should be here any minute now-“

Just in time, the doors to the gym creaked open. Daichi smiled, leaving Suga to trail behind him curiously. He reached for the door handle, giving it a firm pull.

In stepped a boy with a long synthetic wig on, and heels that made him tower over Daichi easily. The sharp platforms of his heels clicked with each step he took, jewelry and accessories also bobbing up and down. And not to mention the ‘bobbling’ the silicone boobs made. Jeez, even if they were fake, they did still jiggle a hell of a lot.

(Y/n) bent down daintily, pressing a kiss onto Daichi’s cheek. Lipstick smeared on his sweaty cheek, leaving a dark imprint on the side of his face. (Y/n) seemed to finally take notice of all the astonished stares directed at him.

Should he A, stand beside his boyfriend awkwardly and pick at the loose thread of his dress or B, put on his confident drag persona and play it off?

He chose B.

(Y/n) smirked and leaned on on of his feet, placing a hand on his hip. “What? Like what you see, boys? I’m afraid I’m already taken, though.”

Fuck. Fuck fuck. Fuck. Even with the confident display, (y/n) couldn’t help but stay somewhat behind Daichi, trying to shrink behind his 10 inch heels.

Immediately, a bald guy and a kid with a bleached strip on the front of his head erupted into excitement.

“Yo! Sick dress, dude!”

The atmosphere lightened up tremendously. (Y/n) let go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Well thank you, Mr. Bleach strip.”

The bald one, who introduced himself as ‘Tanaka’, slapped Daichi on the back. “Dude! What’s with all the surprises?! You tell us you have a boyfriend but you didn’t tell us he was a drag queen?!”

“I-to be honest I didn’t know he was in drag today-I didn’t know he had work.”

The closet door opened, with Hinata and Kageyama walking out from placing the net inside. Hinata gasped excitedly, while Kageyama froze. Hinata practically bolted towards the unknown person wearing heels and jumped up to his height. (Y/n) choked on air. This kid practically flew at him.

“Wow! Are you one of those ‘drag queens’ I see on tv sometimes?! Cool! That’s so cool! I-“

“ARE YOU QUIMCHI?!”

Hinatas throat closed up, along with (y/n) after hearing his stage name being called out so...dramatically. The boy continued.

“...F-FROM THAT ONE INTERVIEW THEY DID ON THAT ONE CLUB ON THE LATE NIGHT SHOW WITH SHIN’ICHI HATORI?!”

Kageyamas booming voice rang through the gym as he pointed at (y/n) with wide eyes. Everyone’s gaze went from (y/n) to Kageyama, who was frozen in place. Even (y/n) was a tad bit confused.

The club he worked at recently had a special done on TV, and (y/n) was only in the background. He didn’t know how this...boy recognized him from that, or why he was even watching the drag special on that show in the first place.

“...yeah...yeah I am,” (y/n) smiled awkwardly and a boy with blond hair and glasses chuckled from somewhere in the gym.

The boy, with another guy with dark-green hair, walked out from the storage closet aswell. “Who knew the king was into that kind of stuff? Drag queens? No disrespect, ma’am-sir.”

Kageyama seemed to unfreeze just to glare at Tsukishima with a flushed face. “I-IM NOT! MY STUPID SISTERS JUST A BIG FAN, IS ALL!“

Kageyama turned to (y/n), and marched scarily fast towards him. He stopped abruptly and bowed his head so far it made (y/n) take a step back.

“M-MAY I HAVE AN AUTOGRAPH FOR MY SISTER?! AN-AND MAYBE A PHOTO TOO?!” Kageyama stiffly held his arms to his sides as he kept his head down. Small chuckles and snorts sounded from all around the gym, (y/n) even joining in and patting the black haired boys head.

“Sure thing, doll.”

————

“Your team was nicer than I thought.”

Daichi looked up questionably, fastening his seatbelt. (Y/n) started up his car. “What do you mean, nicer?”

“Well-I thought they were gonna be a bunch of meatheads banging their heads together. They’re actually more interesting than I thought they were going to be. Especially that Kageyama guy.”

Daichi smiled contently. “I’m glad you like them, then.”

A comfortable silence breezed by them, the only sounds audible being the hum of the car engine and the soft tapping of Daichis nails against the armrest. Daichi stole a glance at (y/n). His wig was discarded, placed neatly on the backseat with the wig cap and hairpins resting underneath it, and his hair was slightly damp and messy due to being constricted. His lipstick was a bit smeared from when he kissed him on the cheek, and droplets of sweat gathered near his hairline.

Daichi set his fingers lightly on the spot where the lipstick mark sat, caressing it softly so the lipstick wouldn’t smear more that it already has. He exhaled softly and shifted his gaze back down. He wouldn’t mind if he came to his practice again.

“...so wanna come to my show tonight, Daikkun?”

“It’s at 2am, no.”

—————

Extra:

Kageyama: miwa.

Kageyama: MIWA.

Miwa sighed and checked her phone, sliently scolding her brother for bothering her. She stretched and rubbed her eyes. She swore, if Tobio wanted a ride home from practice...

Miwa: mm

Kageyama: -photo sent-

Miwa: DUDE

Miwa: AJDJSKDKF

Miwa: HOW THE FUCK

Miwa: TELL ME YOU GOT QUIMCHIS AUTOGRAPH DJFJDJE

Kageyama: -photo sent-

Kageyama: I DID. I GOT ONE FOR U AND ONE FOR ME

Kageyama: HE WAS SO TALL TOO

Kageyama: LIKE HE WAS A HALF FOOT TALLER THAN ME EVEN WITHOUT THE HEELS

Miwa: WHY WAS HE AT UR PRACTICE WHSHD

Kageyama: apparently he’s dating my captain

Miwa: WHAT RHE FUCKCIDNEBRJ

——————

[ihearthes]

A Big Hit 

(Inspired by Harry’s Grammy Nominations)

Author: @ihearthes Pairing: Harry x Reader Insert (1st person) Rating: Fluff Word Count: 1364

24 November 2020

The rhythmic pounding of the small punching bag in the guest room woke me. Blinking, I rubbed the sleep from my eyes with the back of my hand. What the fuck was he thinking?

“Jesus, Styles, it’s like the middle of the night,” I groaned, standing in the doorway as I leaned against the doorjamb and watched his lithe body work around the bag. “Barefoot even? What’s gotten into you?”

He blew his breath out steadily in between punches, grunting to me. “Love, it’s nearly 8:45. Not even close to the middle of the night.”

“Fine.” Crossing my arms, I continued to observe his footwork, listening to the forced air evacuating his lungs. “What’s on your mind?”

“Grammy noms today.”

Oh. Duh. I wanted to smack my forehead, but refrained. Fuck. How had this date snuck up on me? “What time are you due on set?”

He shook his head. “Not until noon. The anxiety is eating at me, though. I mean…” Dropping his stance and elbows, he starkly gazed at me. “If I’m not on the list, I’ll move on without blinking. But the lead-up to the event is…” He swallowed, and I watched his throat shift. 

“Sounds like you need a sparring partner. Let me grab my gear.”

“Love?” He called as I moved towards my room. 

“Yeah?”

“I won’t be gentle today.”

“No problem. I don’t like it when you pull your punches anyway.”

Quickly, I divested myself of my nightshirt (one of Harry’s Fine Line Live at the Forum shirts) and dragged on my workout gear, sans shoes. If he was doing this barefoot, I wasn’t going to risk stomping on his toes in my shoes. 

The bass and drums of LL Cool J’s Mama Said Knock You Out fill the room, and I wince, worried my neighbors might not appreciate the vibrating walls. Whatever though. If they were still asleep at this time of the morning, that was their fault. 

“Ready,” I announced, standing in front of him as I wrapped my hands before slipping into my boxing pads. “What drill first?”

“Jab, lead uppercut, lead hook.”

Nodding, I silently agree that this is the kind of workout he needs. “You loose enough for this one?”

“Yep. Just get ready.” He took his boxing stance, holding his arms out in preparation. 

“Loose, H. This isn’t supposed to be a powerhouse move. We’re working on fluidity, remember.” 

“Got it. Let’s go.” He practiced the sequence three or four times, shuffling his feet as he threw the light punches. 

“Double up!” Quickly, Harry repeated the series twice in a row without stopping. “Less body! More arm!” His form was slipping, and I knew his attention was drawn elsewhere. As he paused, shaking out his shoulder, I asked, “What time, darling?”

“Starts at 9, but my categories aren’t right away.”

Shit. Nine o’clock had ticked past five minutes ago. “Mind if I turn it on just to listen?” 

His nonchalant shrug wouldn’t have fooled anyone. “Whatever you want.”

Walking to the television I use to play workout tapes, I searched for the correct channel, switching off the stereo first. Landing on the network, I turned back to him, my hands up, the pads ready. The voice in the background droned on. 

“Okay. Let’s go three times in a row, shall we? Relaxed. Loose. Work your arm and not your body. Check your angles.”

The sweat began to pour from both of us as we focused on the workout at hand, pretending to ignore the noise from the television. Stopping for a moment, Harry grabbed his water bottle, squirting the liquid into his mouth. 

“Ready for the other side? Straight, uppercut, hook.” 

Immediately, Harry started throwing the reverse punches, pushing air out of his lungs as the nominees for Best Folk Album were being announced by Lauren Daigle. Her melodic voice carried through the space, punctuated only by the puffs of breath drawn from Harry, his arms chasing the oxygen around the room. 

Sharon Osbourne was up next, announcing names I couldn’t recall from comedy and visual media. Harry’s punches slowed as she began to reveal the nominees for Best Music Video. The smile that spread over his face when he heard the words “Adore You” started at the left corner of his mouth, overtaking his whole face as the dimple deepened until he was grinning like a jack-o-lantern carved by the most excited kid on the block. The punches renewed their efforts as he doubled up, nearly causing me to lose pace and drop the pads to my side.

On top of the console, Harry’s phone began buzzing repeatedly. 

“Harry!” I yelled, sure he would want a break to celebrate. 

“Don’t drop your hands, love!” His continued punches kept me on my toes. “I’ve got more categories coming, and I am about to burst from nerves.” 

Classical fields were divulged next, and I urged him on, “Let’s go between the two, H. Left combo and then right combo.” 

Dancing around each other, we continued practicing the boxing moves, our feet shuffling and scraping on the mats on the floor. R&B categories followed classical, and I was starting to sweat more from the nerves than the workout -- although the workout was a close second with Harry’s controlled punches soaring through the air as I attempted to catch them all with the mitts in a gentle way that would encourage him to keep moving. 

Megan Thee Stallion started with Best Solo Performance, and Harry’s punches fell harder through the first three nominees. When his name fell from her lips, Harry slipped and skipped a hook. 

“Want to stop now?” I asked. 

But he shook his head. “Keep going, love.” Picking up the punches, he pounded my mitts, my hands going numb. 

“Next up we have best pop vocal album. And the nominees are…” 

Harry dropped his hands, planting them on his waist, sucking in air as he bent over. 

“...Changes by Justin Bieber…” 

Harry’s head moved from side to side, his reaction directed to the floor, though I could guess at his thoughts. 

“...Chromatica by Lady Gaga…” 

Lifting his gaze to mine, he smiled a tight smile, and I could see the excitement tinged with nerves. 

“...Future Nostalgia by Dua Lipa…”

His hand pumped into the air at his friend’s name.

“...Fine Line by Harry Styles…”

Dropping his hands to his sides, he stood up straight, his mouth gaping at me. “Did she just…? Did I hear her say…? Tears rose to his eyes, and he buried his face in his hands. “Shit. She did, didn’t she? Three nominations, baby.”

Megan’s voice droned on, but we were on an island of glee. His shoulders shook. I felt tears forming behind my eyes too. The biggest categories were yet to come, and we listened to no avail. But the thrill of the three nominations couldn’t be dampened by the lack of general field nominations. 

Stripping the pads off my hands, I made a running start and jumped into Harry’s arms, his glove-covered hands cradling my weight as I pressed my lips to his again and again. 

“Grammy-nominated musician Harry Styles,” I whispered to him between kisses, repeating the phrase multiple times. “Three-time Grammy-nominated musician Harry E. Styles. I’m so proud of you, darling.” Peppering his face with kisses, I wasn’t at all surprised as he spun us around so that my back slammed against the wall and he ground into me. 

“How do you think it will feel making love to a Grammy-nominated musician?” Harry demanded as he swirled his hips into my core. 

“Pretty fucking amazing like always,” I replied. 

The frenetic buzzing of his phone led to it being knocked to the floor, and we both laughed. 

“You better answer that. Your adoring public awaits. Put your mum on speaker. And Jeffrey too! I want to hear all of the celebration!” Dropping to the floor, I headed to the door. 

“Where are you going?” 

I planted one hand on my hip, cocking it in his direction, “If you think I’m celebrating my GRAMMY-NOMINATED boyfriend without champagne, you should think again!” 

As I sauntered off, I heard his laugh following me. 

Thanks to @melissas173 for the title. 

[cloudywriter]

camp staghorn - 4

it’s finally here - been a second ik. updates may be a tad slow these coming two weeks because so much stuff is about to be going on but hang tight. i might extend the story and just have the parts be a little shorter so it’s more manageable because right now it’s suppose to be around 9 parts. anyway, enjoy!

masterlist, AO3, main masterlist 

~~~

Hours later the memory of Rowan’s face as he wrapped the towel around her was still drifting around Aelin’s mind like a feather in the wind. 

He looked so unguarded, his features soft and his perpetual frown absent. Aelin wished she could have paused time right there. She wished she could’ve taken a moment to study him. It made her want to pick up a pencil and sketch him though the most she could draw would be a lopsided stick figure. If she were an artist she would’ve made him her muse. 

Her campers, however, demanded revenge, an eye for an eye. As far as they were concerned, Rowan had made a direct attack on Aelin. A punishable offense. They’d been eagerly chattering all afternoon, developing plan after plan of intricate ways to right Rowan’s wrong. Aelin, though, was a little preoccupied. 

She desperately needed to snap out of it, she needed to splash some cold water on her face and come back to reality. Rowan had trespassed into their camp site and outwardly tampered with their plumbing, she couldn’t let it go now. 

No, Aelin Galathynius wasn’t really the kind of girl who let things go. It didn’t matter how attractive the perpetrator was. 

Aelin and her girls now found themselves roaming aimlessly through the main camp. Technically it was their rest time when they were supposed to cool down and get out of the sun for a while. They were on a different mission though, they needed to scope out Rowan’s camp. 

Luckily, it wasn’t long before they were found. His boys were loud and rambunctious their voices led Aelin’s group right to them like a bread trail in the woods. They were on the rock wall, taking turns racing each other up while the others cheered from below. 

Each boy was suited up in harnesses and helmets. Aelin might’ve spent a little too long checking out Rowan. He was at the bottom of the wall with a rope attached to his harness, acting as one of the counselors managing the boys as they climbed up and then propelled down. 

Aelin deduced it was the perfect time to strike, they were distracted and unsuspecting. He likely didn’t intend for her to have a new plan up her sleeve so soon. 

Aelin and her girls kept their distance, crouched behind a line of tall pine trees that acted as the perfect cover. 

“Well, ladies, what’s the plan?” Aelin inquired. 

The girls gave each other a few affirming nods, silently agreeing upon a plan. 

“We think we should put a butt load of salt into their water jugs back at camp,” Ansel finally spoke up. 

“You think?”

“Yeah, they’ll have to be thirsty now and drink all their water. Then they’ll have to fill them up when they get to camp,” Borte declared. 

Aelin decided to let her girls take the lead on this one and agreed. “Well, let’s go grab all the salt shakers from the dining hall.”

The girls nodded their heads in excitement, racing back down the path. Aelin followed behind, making sure none of their commotion drew unwanted attention. 

After conjuring up at least 14 salt shakers and even an extra container of salt they found in a cabinet they trekked to cabin 1E as denoted on the map in the front of the dining hall. 

That map has turned out to be quite convenient indeed. 

They went to work quickly, splitting up and unscrewing the lids of the three multi-gallon water dispensers around the boys’ camp. Their hour of rest was quickly coming to a close and they needed to execute their plan quickly. 

Aelin and the girls dumped generous amounts of salt into each jug. Ansel even made rounds stirring each one with a stick.

“Where did you get that stick?” Aelin asked.

“The ground,” Ansel replied simply, continuing to stir in the white granules. 

“And you're stirring their water with it?” Aelin clarified. 

“They’ll survive,” Ansel said earnestly as she removed the stick from one water jug and started on another. Aelin only shrugged, she probably wasn’t wrong. 

The girls heard laughter from afar and perked up. 

“Put the lids back on!” Aelin commanded quietly. The girls scrambled to cover the water again and camouflage themselves in the forest. 

Aelin tightened the lid on the remaining jug and raced to join her girls concealed behind the trees and undergrowth. 

The laughing got louder as the group got closer and closer, making their way up the rough dirt path. When they came into view Aelin could tell with their sweaty, flushed faces that they were definitely in need of water. 

Much to Aelin’s luck as soon as Rowan came over the slight incline he started filling his empty water bottle with the dispenser situated just outside his camp’s cabin. The other boys also lined up at the various water stations, taking turns. 

“Rowan,” one of the boys spoke up. “This water tastes funny.” 

“Camp water always tastes funny,” another boy replied. “I’m sure it’s okay,” Rowan insisted. He squirted some water over his face in an attempt to cool off after being in the hot sun for hours. His cheeks were red, heated by the sun, it made his green eyes impossibly greener to the point they resembled the bright green of the surrounding foliage. He ran a hand down his face and through his hair. 

Immediately, as soon as the water hit the boys’ tongues, they started spitting it out, Rowan included. A few yucks and why is it so salty could be heard, but the best part was definitely the boys’ faces. Even Rowan’s was morphed into an expression of pure repulse. 

Aelin’s girls struggled to contain their giggles, clamping their hands over their mouths in a futile attempt to stifle them. Rowan seemed to be the only boy to clue into the muffled noises coming from the forest that definitely weren’t the chatter of songbirds. Aelin could tell his eyes were searching the surrounding greenery, on the lookout for anything amiss. 

“Alright, I’ll go get us some fresh water, okay guys?” Rowan decided.

The boys nodded their agreement, a few still wiping at their mouths. Rowan turned around, starting down the path back to the main camp once again. A few of the girls around Aelin gave each other silent high fives, celebrating their successful prank. One more point for Aelin. 

Aelin was about to suggest that they move out and get ready to feign innocence back at lunch when a pair of thick arms wrapped around her waist and hoisted her up. 

“Thought you were sneaky, huh?” Rowan spoke directly into Aelin’s ear, his breath ruffling the golden blonde hair that had escaped from her ponytail. 

Rowan spun her around and exclaimed to his boys, “I’ve caught the offender!” 

Her campers were playing along, pulling at Rowan’s shirt, trying to save their counselor. Even Aelin was laughing as she was trying to wiggle out of Rowan’s strong embrace but he kept her back pressed firmly to his chest.

“What should we do with her boys?” Rowan asked.

“Make her walk the plank!” A boy with curly brown hair shouted, punching his fist in the air. 

“Alright,” Rowan conceded and began dramatically leading Aelin towards the dock down by the lake. 

“No! Rowan, no, please!” Aelin began struggling but she couldn’t keep the smile off of her face. 

“What else do you suggest, princess? I can’t just let you go free after committing such a crime.”

Aelin shifted just enough so she could face Rowan better, “I’ll do anything,” she breathed in such a way that she knew it would catch Rowan off guard. Just as she predicted, Rowan’s arms loosened for a second. Men were just too easy. 

Aelin took the moment of reprieve gratefully and tore out of Rowan’s grasp, dashing back into the forest for cover. Rowan chased her, twigs snapping close behind. She bolted, swatting low hanging branches out of her way and gritting her teeth as thorns tore at her shins but she couldn’t afford to be caught again. She could hear Rowan following but losing ground as the forest grew denser. 

Aelin took the moment of reprieve gratefully and tore out of Rowan’s grasp, dashing back into the forest for cover. She knew Rowan was chasing after her by the sound of twigs snapping close behind. She increased her speed, swatting at low hanging branches and gritting her teeth as thorns tore at her shins, but she couldn’t afford to be caught again. Rowan began to lose ground as the forest grew denser while Aelin was able to maneuver through from years of experience playing hide and seek in the woods with Aedion. 

The forest suddenly opened up into a small meadow, long grass and bright wildflowers swayed back and forth with the breeze. Aelin looked back to determine Rowan’s position for only a moment when he was on her, pulling her down into the delicate green grass that spread across the field like a blanket. 

They were both panting and could still hear the shouting of their campers through the trees. Aelin and Rowan were both on their backs, gulping down air. 

“You know I’ll have to get you back for that now.” 

Aelin pinched his side, “I know.”

Rowan only swatted her hand away before pushing himself back up to his feet. He held a hand out for Aelin, an offer. Aelin decided to take it, allowing him to effortlessly pull her to her own feet. He held onto her hand for a beat longer than necessary before letting it return back to her side. 

Rowan was studying Aelin, making her suddenly feel self-conscious. Was there grass in her hair? 

“What are you staring at?” Aelin finally caved. 

Rowan smirked. “Nothing, just thinking about how I should repay you for that salt water fiasco.”

“Do your worst, Whitethorn.” 

“I intend to, Galathynius.”

~~~ 

hope y’all like it so far & you’ll get some more rowan’s part of the story & his revenge in the next part. very fun. xoxo. let me know if you wanna be added to my rowaelin taglist!

taglist: @live-the-fangirl-life // @rowaelinismyotp // @gosuckadickghostman // @camilamartinezdunne​ //

[etherrealoblivion]

The Same Direction

Prompt: After a difficult case, the team goes to Rossi’s beach house. Spencer has trouble dealing with his feelings toward Y/N.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Rating: Mature

A/N: Thank you so much for 200 followers! Here’s a treat. gif from Pinterest.

Words: 3,000

MASTERLIST

~

“Orders from Strauss, everyone needs to go.”

The team had just gotten back from a big case, spanning a total of five weeks on the job. It was a particularly rough one; the killer had gotten away, and the family of the victim was pressing charges. They were all in desperate need of a vacation. And it just so happened that luck was on their side. Rossi had a beach house that he’d been keeping well hidden. Strauss had gotten wind of it - presumably through a little hacker birdie - and told the team to take a week-long break to calm their nerves.

The team was ecstatic to finally get some time off. Besides, everyone loved the beach.

“Is it mandatory?”

Everyone except, apparently, for Spencer Reid.

“Yes,” Hotch said shortly, picking up his go-bag and dismissing everyone to go home and pack.

Spencer, however, was not giving up.

“Couldn’t I just stay home and relax?”

Y/N, the newest member of the team, shoved him softly.

“What’s the matter, Spence? Scared to see what Rossi looks like in his thong?”

“It’s called a Speedo, Y/N,” Rossi said, already headed out the door of the briefing room, leaving his coworkers gaping behind him.

Great. Spencer had no choice but to pack up his belongings and join his friends on the trip to the beach. He never thought being packed in a car with his closest friends would be quite like this. Once they’d gotten to forty-two bottles of beer on the wall, he’d fallen asleep.

The beach house was quite nice, which, in retrospect, should have been expected. Rossi was not all that shy about his wealth, nor shy about spending it. 

Spencer was just glad there were enough bedrooms for everyone. He said he’d come to the beach but he didn’t say he’d actually go to the ocean. His plans for the following week consisted of a locked door, a plethora of books, and no ocean. 

Plans, however, that never came to fruition.

“Hey, Spence,” Y/N was stood in his doorway, a wrap around her hips and a shawl on her shoulders, “We’re all gonna check out the water. It’s low-tide. You comin’?”

Spencer gave her a withering look.

“I-uh-I can’t. I’m, um, I’m allergic to sunscreen.”

It was a lame lie and he knew it. He also knew better than to try and lie to a profiler, not to mention a gorgeous woman who he may or may not have a tiny, minuscule crush on.

“Really?”

An evil glint shone in her eye and she tranced forward, hoisting him up out of bed and pulling him out of his room. He protested the whole way down to the beach, trying to come up with excuses.

“Our stuff could get stolen, someone could get stung by a jellyfish, I’m not in my bathing suit.”

“Spence, you’re not allergic to sunscreen, you can borrow some of mine, Rossi brought a safe for our stuff, and I know for a fact that those are swim shorts you’re wearing.”

“Yes, but I don’t have my SPF swim shirt! If I get burned it’s your fault!”

She just giggled, clutching his arm as she led him down to the beach, spotting their coworkers lounging under a rainbow umbrella in the distance.

“Pretty Boy? What are you doing here? Y/L/N finally drag you outta your room?”

“Yep!” she said proudly. “Although I’m not sure I’ll be able to drag him into the water. He keeps muttering about jellyfish statistics. Don’t start!” she added as he opened his mouth.

Spencer blushed, taking a seat in the one empty lounge chair, startled when Y/N sat down right next to him. He tried his best not to think about her warm hip touching his.

Prentiss bounced up, closing the book she was reading. “Well, maybe he’ll follow our lead, huh? Come on, guys!”

And she ran towards the water, Morgan, J.J, Garcia, and Rossi jumping up to follow. Hotch was taking a walk along the beach so Spencer and Y/N were suddenly alone.

“Are you not going to go in?” Spencer asked as she fumbled with her beach bag.

“I am, I just need to put on sunscreen.”

She stood, stripping off her shawl and skirt wrap. Spencer tried not to watch as she squirted the lotion into her hands, rubbing them together and massaging her legs, arms, and neck. He turned his head toward the beach, attempting to watch a flock of seagulls. His eyes unconsciously drifted back to her toned body, so exposed. She didn’t even seem bothered by how on display she was, people walking by able to see quite a lot.

“Spence? A little help?”

Reid snapped to attention, eyes refocusing.

“What? Oh.”

She had turned her back to him, holding out the sunscreen bottle. 

“You want me to…. Put-put the….”

“Sunscreen on my back? Yes. Please use a lot, I burn easy.”

No, no, no, no. NO!

“Okay.”

Fuck.

Spencer took the bottle and squirted a generous amount into his hand. Y/N smiled at him, pleased he was helping her, and laid down on a beach chair, untying the back of her bikini, the strings dangling down toward the sand leaving her back fully exposed.

Spencer swallowed hard.

Okay. This was fine. Just think about crime scenes. Dead bodies. Naked Morgan! There we go. Boner gone.

But the moment he touched her skin, all hope was lost. She felt like silk under his hands, the softness of the lotion only making him glide against her smoother. He could have handled that just fine if not for the fact that as he rubbed the lotion into her skin, she let out soft moans, gasping as he brushed over certain spots.

“Mm, that feels nice, Spencer. A little higher…. Yes, right there,” she keened softly.

Spencer had to suppress a moan himself. The sight of her underneath him, back displayed, writing and moaning was enough to get him hard.

The sunscreen was now well-applied to her back, but Spencer couldn’t stop yet. There was a growing issue in his swim shorts and he wasn’t sure how to handle it. So he just kept rubbing her back, going from stingily applying the sunscreen to a full-blown massage.

That…. did not help the situation. 

Y/N just kept moaning his name, telling him how good he was at this. The situation was escalating and Spencer needed to stop.

He moved his hands away quickly, turning away from her and shutting his eyes, praying that his … length … wouldn’t be that visible.

“You okay?” she touched his shoulder and he spun around, hoping and wishing she wouldn’t look down.

She didn’t. She was busy retying her bikini.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, far from fine.

She took the bottle back from him.

“Want me to do your legs?”

“NO! No. Um, no thank you. I think I’ll just stay here. This isn’t a swim shirt and I don’t wanna get it wet.”

She smiled devilishly, leaning forward and grasping the edges of his shirt.

“Then don’t.”

And ever so slowly, maintaining eye contact the entire time, she lifted his shirt up over his head and threw it down on the beach chair. Even stranger, Spencer found himself letting her. He let her squeeze sunblock into her hand and run it over his shoulders, massaging it in as he had done to her.

“There! Now you can come in the water!”

“Y/N, the dangers of-”

“Hush! Follow me!” and she grabbed his hand, leading him toward the ocean, calling out to their friends.

“Look who’s here!”

“Reid!” the group cheered collectively, laughing as Spencer slowly entered the water, wrapping his arms around his torso self consciously.

He always wore a swim shirt. Even in hot tubs. It hadn’t even occurred to him how uncovered he was until he was smack dab in front of his colleagues.

“Hey, what’s the deal, Pretty Ricky? I’ve never seen you swim without a shirt before. Come to think of it, I’ve never really seen you swim.”

“About one in every sixteen people gets injured somehow at the beach. One in three of those happen in the water.”

“La-la-la-la-la,” Garcia said, plugging her ears. “I do not want to hear about how dangerous the ocean is. Living in blissful ignorance is my forte.”

Y/N laughed and Spencer joined in, a little of the tension slipping off his shoulders. Once the banter began, it was easier to forget about the unknown terrors lurking beneath the water’s surface.

Until….

“Hey, let’s go deeper!” Prentiss said, slowly wading further until she was so far out they could barely hear her. “Come on guys! I think there’s a sandbank just up ahead!”

“I’m out,” Garcia said, turning around and walking back to the shore. “I’m going to nake a nap. If anyone needs me, don’t bother trying to wake me up.”

Morgan, Rossi, and JJ all enthusiastically waded deeper towards Prentiss, frolicking in the waves and calling for Spencer and Y/N to join them.

Y/N softly took Spencer’s hand.

“Come on, I don’t know if I’ll be able to touch the bottom and I might need to hold onto you.”

And before he could protest and pull out a worrying statistic, she had led him just deep enough so that his head was above the water. In front of them, their friends were clearly standing on a sandbank, happily jumping in the waves.

“Spence,” Y/N mumbled, struggling to keep her head above the water. “I can’t touch.”

“Oh, um.”

“You don’t mind, do you?” she asked, climbing onto his front and wrapping her legs around him, securing them behind him. His hands unconsciously flew to her hips to hold her, the movement shocking him.

This…. was not good. She was pressed right up against a very sensitive area that he’d already had to calm down from earlier. The sudden contact was making the blood rush downward, no doubt leading to a very unpleasant conversation.

“Thanks,” she whispered, sliding her hands around his neck and glancing down at his lips. Wait, what?

If Spencer hadn’t been so distracted, he would have been able to read her expression better. Instead, he was left a muttering mess, trying to keep his thoughts as pure as possible so that there wasn’t a sudden growth in his trunks.

“No problem,” he said, voice cracking and he kept walking toward the bank, Y/N in his arms. Each step made her rub up against him in a less than pure way.

“You okay?” she asked, readjusting her legs and pulling tighter to him.

“Mm-hmm,” he grunted, not trusting his voice not to give out.

By some miracle, they reached their friends, Spencer set her down and was finally able to control his breathing enough to stop the hardness growing in his pants.

The obligatory beach games were played with much splashing, diving, and seawater getting in people’s eyes. After the third round of a game of chicken, Rossi decided it was time to head back. The tide was getting higher and it was about dinnertime.

“Can you give me another lift?” Y/N turned to Spencer, taking his hand for the millionth time that day. She always was a little more touchy with him.

“Um, sure. Hop on,” he pat his back, hoping it was nonchalant enough not to arouse suspicion.

That’s not the only thing that’s aroused.

Hush!

And she smiled, jumping up on his back and riding him back to where she could touch the bottom.

“Thanks, Spence. You’re fun to ride!” and she trounced off toward the beach house, leaving Spencer befuddled and confused.

~

Rossi cooked up a pot of his famous pasta for dinner, sending everyone into a glorious food coma from overeating.

Spencer retreated to his room and dug his nose into Les Miserables, quickly getting sucked into the story.

A knock on his door startled him several hours later.

“Come in,” he muttered, pulling the covers up over his bare legs.

It was Hotch.

“Hey, everyone’s turning in for the night, just wanted to let you know. In the morning, we’re going to head to that frozen ice place.”

“Okay,” he smiled at Hotch as he closed the door. 

Glancing at the clock, he was surprised to see it was already 10:30.

Usually, Spencer accidentally stayed up until three AM, falling asleep with a case file clutched in his arms only to wake up in three hours. Tonight, however, there was no case to stress about, no time to wake up tomorrow, and no having to worry about stupid feelings for a coworker. If he wanted to, he could go for a walk on the beach and no one would bother him.

Which is exactly what he chose to do.

The sand had gone from scorching his feet during the day to chilly and more stable at nighttime. He walked for about five minutes until he saw a soft light in the distance. Someone had lit a small fire a few meters from the shoreline.

He was about to turn around when he noticed a very familiar shawl wrapped around the figure’s shoulders.

“Y/N?”

Her head snapped towards him and although he couldn’t see her expression, he could hear the smile in her voice.

“Hey, Spence!” he walked up and sat next to her, facing the ocean. “What are you doing out here?”

“I was just taking a walk. What about you?”

He made the mistake of looking at her, nearly gasping at the way the soft glow of the firelight illuminated her features. He couldn’t help watching her lips as she spoke.

“Oh, same as you. I just kinda needed some alone time.”

“Oh, do you want me to-”

“No!” she reached out, grabbing his arm to stop him from standing. “No, It’s… It’s ok. I like having you near, Spencer.”

His breath froze in his throat.

“I-ahem-I like to be near you, Y/N. I mean, you’re fun to be around.”

She laughed, hugging his arm and resting her head on his shoulder. Spencer tensed at the contact, wondering if she knew what she was doing and, more importantly, what it was doing to him.

They stared off into the waves, watching the birds dance on the horizon, the moon low in the sky. It was beautiful.

“You ever wonder why we do what we do?” she asked, voice barely a whisper.

He was shocked yet again by her forwardness. He never knew what she was going to say.

“Like, we know how to do the job, but how do we turn it off? Everyone we come in contact with, we have the tools to read their lives story right off their face. But what the hell do we know about each other? I don’t know. Sometimes I just feel like no one knows me.”

She glanced at him, cheeks turning pink. “Sorry, forget it,” she whispered, pulling back from him and throwing sand on the fire. “Goodnight, Spencer.”

“You like the beach,” he blurted, making Y/N stop standing up. “You-you like the beach and-and chocolate ice cream. You hate it when Hotch’s belt doesn’t match his shoes but you never say anything because you don’t want to bother him. You tell people your favorite color is blue but it’s actually yellow. When a case involves a child, you always wear your hair down so that if you’re the one to find them, they’ll be able to smell your shampoo. You don’t let anyone initiate contact with you and you never let anyone hug you. Except-except for me.”

The words left his mouth before he could stop them. His gaze had drifted back to the ocean, spotting a dolphin jump in the distance.

“That’s what I know about you, Y/N.”

He dreaded meeting her eyes but the silence was more unbearable.

The moment their gaze met, a wave crashed upon the shore in front of them and Y/N leaned forward, gently pressing her lips to his. Spencer gasped, lightly pressing back, keeping his hands firmly at his sides.

Emotions flew between them, Y/N reaching up and softly touching Spencer’s cheek, a burst of care rising in his chest, tightening in his throat. His hand found the back of her head and he pulled her closer. Silently, she climbed into his lap and deepened the kiss, moaning softly against his mouth.

Spencer gasped, hands moving to her hips, grasping them roughly. Her lips parted and she ran her tongue along his lips, parting them softly and delving deeper the moment he gave her access. 

The fire next to them was out but a new one had lit between them, sending waves of warmth amidst their bodies. Spencer was emboldened by the kiss, gently biting her lip and coaxing her mouth more open. Their hands moved everywhere, pulling each other’s hair, caressing each other’s backs, and holding each others cheeks ever so gently.

Y/N was the first to pull back, resting her forehead against his, breathing heavily against his mouth.

“As much as I love this, I’m not all that excited about sand getting in certain places.”

He laughed lightly, stroking her hair.

“I’m-I’m not quite ready to….”

“We don’t have to.”

She pulled back, giving him a heartwarming smile and stood up, holding out her hand to Spencer.

“Come on,” she smiled and he took her hand, standing. “Let’s take a walk.”

And so they walked off along the beach, hand clasped together, conversing quietly about nothing in particular.

No matter how much Spencer already knew about her, he found himself wanting to get to know her all over again.

And Y/N had absolutely no problem with that.

~

“Love does not consist in gazing at each other, but in looking outward together in the same direction.” -Antoine de Saint-Exupery

~

[kingofhearts709]

Prompt: bill and ted give each other haircuts

hello yes im sorry this is late but this is adorable and im happy to write this excellent prompt ���️

A/N: SO! this came out SO MUCH LONGER than i expected. like i was just gonna cute-drabble it but then my brain was like "NO PERFECT CONCEPT MUST EAT IT." snd I'm very happy to have written it all. im setting this at like pre-excellent adventure.

anyways i hope you have a lovely day and to please enjoy this little thing 💓"

---

Ted blew his bangs out of his face for the fifth time since he'd sat down on Bill's bed, trying to focus on his comic and finding the ultimate difficulty in reading between the long strands. His hair almost reached past his shoulders, and Missy's abandoned scrunchies were starting to look most intriguing.

Bill was no better. Every time he ran his fingers through his hair, they wound up tangled. There was no way he'd be able to handle brushing it every single morning, but the habit of messing with his hair was too ingrained.

"Dude, we need haircuts," Bill grumbled as his forefinger caught on a twisty piece of fringe. "I'm gonna look like a seventies disco dude." Ted snickered at that, and Bill thwacked his chest lightly. "Shut up, Ted, I'm serious."

"Well, my dad won't even pay for a good haircut," Ted huffed, dropping his comic book and blowing his bangs away once more. "If he did, it'd be a buzz." He paused for a moment before suggesting, "You don't suppose Missy could cut our hair?" Bill let out a laugh.

"I would be most doubtful of her skills."

"Okay, well... How much do haircuts cost?"

"More than we can afford." Ted frowned and looked down. "My dad would probably just tell me to cut my hair myself if I asked." It went silent for a moment before a lightbulb lit up in Ted's brain, and he bounced on the bed with enthusiasm.

"...Well, why don't we?"

"Why don't we what, dude?"

"Cut our own hair!"

The idea thrown out to the wind sounded more than insane. Neither of them knew the first thing about cutting each other's hair, let alone their own.

But the thing about Bill and Ted was that, as long as they did it together, it was more than enough reason to say why not?

"Ted, my friend, your idea is definitely most forward-thinking!" Bill complimented, jumping up. "We both know what each other's hair looks like, so we'll totally be able to replicate it!"

The wide grin on Ted's face was enough to break it, jumping up with Bill and looking around.

"I'll go get hair stuff," Bill said as he rushed towards the door. "You get a chair set up." Ted nodded as Bill bolted from the room, going to the corner to grab an old twisty chair that they never used. It still twisted, and was just about the right height for cutting hair, it seemed.

Ted was testing the chair by spinning in fast circles when Bill came back in with a pair of kitchen scissors and two huge towels. He swayed a little as he regained his normal vision from spinning, seeing that Bill was also carrying a spray bottle filled with water, a brush and comb, and a tube of hair product.

"I grabbed some other stuff from Missy's counter, too," Bill said as he dropped it all down on the bed. He picked up the tube and read it, "Something called...'Gar-near Fruck-tiss.' The instructions say it makes your hair smooth." Ted gave an intrigued head tilt before giving a nod and a smile.

"Well, dude, smooth me!" Ted joked, and Bill gave him a look before they found themselves air-guitaring.

Bill wrapped one of the towels around Ted's neck and shoulders, making sure he pulled his hair out from underneath. Bill leant down to assess it, squinting to see if it would help him decide on a course of correct action.

"How short should I cut it, dude?" Bill finally asked. Ted brought up a hand and hovered it palm down before holding it right where his chin ended as reference, and Bill nodded, picking up the spray bottle and spraying Ted's entire head all over until his hair went damp through.

"Bill, you are most concentrated," Ted hummed as Bill ran the comb through his hair to measure it down. It was already frayed from whenever his last haircut had been, it seemed. "Do you actually know what you're doing?"

"Uh...," Bill hummed, shrugging. "I used to watch my mom get her hair cut before when I was a little kid, I guess. They always wet your hair and then do this trippy snippy thing."

Ted snorted as Bill snipped the scissors a couple of times in the air before diving into Ted's hair, holding the length to cut off between his fingers and slowly scissoring away.

It was quiet while Bill worked on his hair, Ted doing his best to keep still, even if he really wanted to turn his head and see exactly what was happening. The only sounds filling the room were Bill walking around him and the snip of the scissors.

As soon as Bill cut off the last edge of Ted's hair, he stepped back and studied his work, furrowing his brows before grinning.

"Dude, I totally nailed you!" he exclaimed, and the redness to Ted's cheeks caused him to add on, "Uh- Your hair, I mean. It looks most bodacious." Ted looked around the room frantically for any reflection, and jumped when Bill held up a mirror in front of his face.

Bill really had done an excellent job. His hair was back to its regular length, hanging right around his chin. His bangs were still a problem, though, and he looked over at Bill and gestured to them.

"Oh, dude, yeah," Bill huffed as he dropped the mirror back where he'd grabbed it and picked up the scissors again. "Sorry, Ted, I forgot your main problem is your egregiously long bangs."

"They're like curtains for my face, duder," Ted hummed as Bill began to separate the bangs from the rest of his hair. He cursed when he grabbed too much of Ted's already-trimmed sections before Ted spoke up, "Oh, dude, grab one of Missy's scrunchies!" Bill raised a brow before following Ted's gaze to the bedside table, where about four of Missy's scrunchies were sitting. How they got there, Bill personally didn't want to think about it. Regardless, he went over to grab one and handed it over to Ted so he could pull his hair back and let Bill have full reign on his bangs.

"Where do they usually end?" he asked as he eyeballed possible measurements with his fingers. His face wasn't unreasonably close to Ted's, considering the circumstances, but it still made Ted nervous.

"Just, like, enough so I can see okay, I guess," Ted said, and Bill nodded as he took the comb and brushed his bangs even before sticking the handle in between his teeth and bringing the scissors up.

At this angle, Ted could see Bill's entire process as he watched his hair being snipped off. The way his face was scrunched in concentration, his gentle movements to make sure he wasn't tugging Ted's head any direction.

He didn't realise Bill was finished until he saw his reflection in the mirror when it was held up.

He looked good, if not better than before, with Bill's handiwork.

"How'd I do, dude?" Bill asked, and Ted reached up to touch his already drying hair. "Want me to put the Fruck-tiss in it?"

"Uh- Yeah, dude, sure." Ted looked over to see Bill grabbing the tube and opening it up, squirting a generous amount into his palm. "Do I have to wash it out?"

"Uh...," Bill turned the tube in his hand and scrunched his nose, shaking his head. "It says to leave in for fifteen minutes and your hair will be, 'smooth and sleek.'" He looked up. "Ready?"

"Yeah, Bill."

After a moment, Ted felt Bill's hands and fingers running right through his hair, keeping away from his scalp as per the instructions on the tube. It was smooth and gentle and overall intimate the way Bill paid careful attention to Ted's hair, running his fingers through. He might've put too much product in, but they could always wash it out if needed.

"Alright!" Bill said when the product was more or less incorporated. "You have been fully transformed into your most authentic self, my friend!"

"Dude, excellent!" Ted said as Bill took the towel off of him, trying not to get the hair everywhere (it already was, but that was beside the point). "My turn, Bill!" Ted stood up and took an exaggerated bow towards the twisty chair, gesturing for Bill to take a seat. Bill bowed back before dropping down and smiling.

Ted mimicked his actions from earlier, draping the towel around his neck and grabbing the spray bottle. However, Bill's hair was curly and almost like a jewfro, and he briefly wondered how he was going to cut it down.

"Dude, I don't think water is going to help," Ted said as he looked around at Bill's head. "You do have one stellar mullet now, but the rest is growing up." Hesitantly, he ran his fingers gently through Bill's curly hair, feeling just how insanely tangled it was. Bill briefly shivered at the motion, telling himself internally to just relax.

He'd already cut Ted's hair, so he should know what to expect, but still, the shock of actually feeling Ted's hands and fingers gave him the most unusual of feelings in his chest. He wasn't necessarily sure if they were nerves or emotions, but either way, it sent a shiver down his spine every time Ted's skin connected to him.

Bill bit the inside of his cheek as Ted stuck his tongue out and tested a single lock of hair, snipping off the end before grinning, nodding as he started to continue.

"Dude, it's like trimming a bush!" he laughed as he went all around, mimicking Bill once more by holding each lock between his fingers. Bill's blond hair fell and separated with each snip that the scissors gave. Ted's movements were slow and calculated, his genuine care for making sure he cut Bill's hair in the most correct way making Bill feel a little more than special.

It took Ted longer than it took Bill to finish up, giving a lock one last cut before jumping back and grinning as he crossed his arms.

"Dude, how is it?" Bill asked, gesturing. "Gimme that mirror!" Ted straightened up as he remembered, turning in a couple of circles before picking it up off the the bed and holding it up.

Ted hadn't done a terrible job, he had to admit. He turned his head back and forth, his smile growing as he saw Ted show up behind him in the reflection. He took a hand and ran it through his hair front to back.

It took Bill a second before he concluded that Ted forgot to cut off his mullet, and he grinned with a scoff.

"Dude, you totally missed the back," Bill said, his hand flipping the hair in Ted's view. Ted frowned as he stood up straight and tilted his head.

"Did I, dude?" he raised his eyebrows, reaching down to move Bill's away and examine it. "Bill, if I might be totally honest, you have always had this mullet, though I will admit it's much longer than normal..."

"No way, dude," Bill rolled his eyes in response. "Gimme those scissors." He reached back to grab the utensil from Bill's hand, a most dangerous risk. Ted, however, held back the pair with a grin.

"Dude, you'll be a total mullet-head!" Ted laughed as he turned and jumped up on the bed, knocking a couple of the items onto the floor. Bill spun around in his seat and looked at the scissors clasped wrong-way-up in Ted's fist.

Bill eyed him for a long moment before bolting up from the chair in a lunge, a total disregard for all those 'safety with scissors' rules from grade school. Ted leaped off the bed for the corner, Bill chasing him there. They could only run around in the small confines of Bill's room, so there weren't many places for Ted to go, nor space to make between himself and Bill.

It became apparent when Ted got onto the bed again and Bill fully tackled him so he had him trapped underneath.

Ted was still laughing even when Bill had him pinned by the wrists and was currently looking down on him with the most fondest of looks, a huge smile gracing his entire face.

"Dude," Ted said through chuckles as he flipped his newly cut bangs away from his eyes, "you look definitively bodacious with your mullet. I think you should keep it." Bill tilted his head.

"Ted, my friend, there is nothing in your head that could ever convince me." Ted let out a laugh before he looked at it over Bill's shoulder, comtemplating.

"I like it on you, dude."

It didn't take long for Bill's brain to immediately agree with that statement.

"You think so, dude?" Bill found himself asking, and Ted looked back to Bill's face, smiling with a nod.

"Most triumphantly." The words put a smile on his own lips, and the warm, butterfly-feeling in his chest was new but most definitely welcome as he squeezed Ted's wrists.

"Well, then, Ted, my most excellent and esteemed partner, I suppose I must keep it just for you."

[world-of-aus]

Behind the Screen - (Part 9)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count:2,825

Warnings: smut 18+ fluff all the fluff.

Author’s Note: this was a little late, but i am still on time in a sense and i am so proud of myself lol. Tag-lists are open for both Behind the Screen and Family Matters if you all are interested in being added just send me an ask or a message! Also again if you’d like to be removed from my tag-lists you can always message me privately. Thank you all for reading and enjoying the content i put out words truly can’t describe how happy your comments, reblogs, and likes make. This goes for just the ones reading as well, thank you! - xoxo

Part 8 / SERIES MASTERLIST

Bucky couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, it’s not like he was able to before, but there was something about you now that was just absolutely glowing, injury or not you were ethereal.  

“Alright y/n well it’s not broken but I wouldn’t put too much pressure on it, and I definitely recommend taking a good two weeks off from doing any strenuous activities if you want to be able to join the others on missions sooner rather than later,”

A groan left your lips, “anyway I can get you to push that to a smaller time frame?” You questioned.

A smile tugged at the doctors lips, “sorry, but no can do, unless you want that foot to continue to be a problem I’d advise you stay off of it and keep it elevated at all times,”  

Another groan left your lips, Bucky chuckled from beside you, you turned your head slightly to give him a playful glare, “laugh it up Barnes, we all can’t be super soldiers” you muttered like a petulant child.

“Barnes make sure y/n gets to her room, relaxes, and keeps that leg elevated,” Bucky nodded, “ oh and one more thing, next time you break your nose you might want to come to med bay just in case, I know you all tend to heal a little quicker but it’s advised you get seen by a doctor and not your teammate,” she grinned.

His cheeks flared with heat as his eyes slid to you, you held your hands up in surrender, “I was busy fixing you up, it wasn’t me that ratted you out,”

“alright you two,” she chuckled, “Barnes, can I trust that you’ll take care of y/n, the way that she took care of you last night?”

“no worries Doc, she’ll be in good hands,”

The doctor chuckled helping you from the bed, Bucky sidled up to your side, his arm wrapping your waist supporting your body. You two were almost out of the room when the doctor was calling out again, “oh and Mr. Barnes, please make sure y/n actually gets rest, remember no strenuous activities, she needs to keep that leg elevated,”

Your lips parted open, cheeks going red in embarrassment, Bucky chuckled lowly, “no promises doc, but I'll make sure that leg stays elevated,” he grinned pulling you out of the room and into the hallway.

“James Buchanan Barnes!” you hissed smacking him in the chest.

Bucky chuckled, “what, words going to get out, and be careful doll, I just might pull a you and leave you behind without warning,” he teased.

You glared up at him though a smile pulled at your lips, “you know I'm beginning to think I maybe didn’t mean what I said earlier,”

Bucky stopped abruptly in the hall, eyes looking down at you, “oh really now,” a cheeky grin pulled at his lips, “you should really watch your words sweetheart,”

“why, you gonna make me eat them?” you questioned.

“oh, I'll make you eat something, but it won’t be your words,” he grinned, a loud laughfalling from his lips at the red hue that painted your cheeks.

“You’re insufferable,” you muttered into his side as he continued to drag you along.

“my room is that way,” you muttered into his shoulder as he dragged you down your corridor but in the opposite direction of where your room was.

“m’aware sweetheart, but I thought I’d change things up,” he grinned placing a kiss to your hair.

“are you expecting me to limp back to my room?” you questioned with amusement.

Bucky stopped the two of you in front of his door, his body turning to face yours, his hands came up to grasp at your face, “didn’t plan on sending you away,” he murmured thumb running along the peaks of your cheeks, “was kinda hoping you’d stay,”

“you sure about that, you okay if the other’s find out about us?” you questioned teasingly.

He smirked, his head closing in, lips hovering just above yours, “let them find out doll, m’ tired of always having to leave you behind,” he murmured his lips connecting with yours.

A soft sigh left your lips, your fingers curling into the material of Bucky’s gear at his sides, “So I'm assuming you told her?”

You groaned as you pulled your lips away from his to look over your shoulder, a laugh left your lips, your head falling to Bucky’s shoulder, “It just had to be you Steve, didn’t it?”

“at least it’s been me and not one of the other’s,” he shot back, “buck I know I said to help y/n out but I didn’t mean in that way,” he teased.

You groaned a laugh slipping past your lips, “Steve stop!” you whined.

“alright, alright, I'll leave the two of you alone, but be prepared for this to be happening for a good while, especially once Sam finds out,”

“please don’t remind us,” you laughed.

“anyways I'll leave the two of you,” he replied walking past, “oh and one more thing,” he paused the two of you looking over at him, “make sure you keep the noise down,” he winked.

“Steven Grant Rogers!” you gasped.

He threw out a hearty laugh, waving at the two of you as he disappeared into his room, “sure we can’t keep us a secret a little longer?” you questioned looking up at Bucky with amusement in your eyes.

He pressed his head against yours, “not a chance doll, now let’s get you taken care,” oh he murmured pressing his lips to yours, “doctor’s orders”

Bucky’s fingers danced along your curves, his fingers hooking under the hem of your shirt, “lift your arms for me babe,” he murmured.

“You know I don’t think this is what the doctor or Steve meant by helping, I think I can handle a shower, Buck,” you teased, lifting your hands up.

“m’sure you can but I don’t want to risk something happening to you, if you go in there by yourself,” he replied giving you a cheeky grin.

“my hero” you cooed, “though if you plan on actually getting in with me, I think you need start shedding layers,” you murmured fingers crawling up his chest.

“Say no more,” he whispered leaning down to place a kiss to your shoulder.

Moving away from him you moved to the shower turning the knobs, yours fingers reaching out to test the water. Content you reached for the buttons on your pants eager to feel the warmth of the water on your battered skin. Trying not to hurt your foot anymore you wobbled on unsteady legs as you wrangled them off.

You could hear Bucky chuckle behind you, warm and cool fingers found their way to your hips steadying you, his broad chest presses against your back, “shoulda waited for me, I could have helped you,” he murmured pressing a kiss to your skin.

Your head fell onto his shoulder a soft moan falling from your lips, “i can think of other ways you could help me,” his lips paused on your skin, his lips paused on your skin, “how about we get you in that shower first and we’ll see in what ways my hands can be of assistance,” he grinned nipping at your skin.

Needing to feel more of him you wasted no time in ridding yourself of the rest of you clothes. Bucky’s arms stayed wrapped around you as he helped you into the shower a content moan falling from your lips as the warm water cascaded down your body.

Bucky’s lips once more found their way onto your heated skin, “mmm,” you groaned head falling to his shoulder, “what are your hands going to help with first,” you murmured placing an open-mouthed kiss to his chin.

He chuckled against your skin, his hands gripping your hips to turn you in his hold, his hand came up to push the hair back from your face, “how about we get cleaned up and I promise, ill put my hands to good use once you’re all lathered up and washed off,”

Leaning up on your toes as best as you could without hurting your injury further, your lips came to a stop in front of Bucky’s “I’m going to tell Steve you were a sucky nurse,” you murmured.

His hands reached for something behind you, his arms pulling you in closer as he reached for the object. You heard the squirt of a bottle, his hands came up weaving their way into your hair, his fingers working the soap into your scalp “Honey I promise when I'm through taking care of you, you’re going to wish Steve had assigned you anyone else but me,”  

“I don’t know Barnes, you’re a lot of talk,” you murmured your head falling back into the cascading water, the lather of shampoo washing away from your hair.

“ouch, y/n, I'm a man of action you should know this, turn around for me,” he murmured once all the suds had cleared.

Turning in his hold your back pressed to his front, his cock heavy with arousal pressing into your back, you couldn’t help leaning into him further, your body reacting to his.  

“you want my hands or the loofa?”

“your hands please,” you whisper body thrumming in anticipation.

Bucky leans forward once more, hips grinding into your backside as he grabs the soap, he squirts a generous amount into his hands, lathering them up before he's coming back to your body. His hands work over your shoulders first, making their slow descend down the valley of your breasts, cupping them in his hands he lathers them up with soap, his thumbs running over your hardened nipples. A moan tumbles from your lips, as his hands descend further, fingers scraping softly against the expanse of your stomach, “Buck please,” you murmur the need for his hands to go where you need them to growing.  

His head find its way onto your shoulder, the farther his hands go, you wait in anticipation the second his fingers meet the curve of your hips. His hands work over the skin there, sliding towards your heat, a groan slips past your lips as his fingers deflect now making their way down your thighs, “Bucky,” you whine.

A low chuckle falls from his lips as his fingers slide between your thighs, inching up painfully slow, finally you think. Your walls clench in anticipation, “Bucky, no!” you whine as he turns you in his hold.

He’s pushing into you, his hands shutting off the water behind you, his eyes clouded over with lust, “ m’gonna need you to hold on real tight to me doll, don’t want to drop you and injure you any further,” he murmured leaning down to press his lips to yours.

Your hands find their way around his neck, wrapping around him tightly, his hands descend down the curves of your ass, hooking under your thigh as he lifts you up. In that moment you’re grateful you’re standing in a shower and not a bathtub.

Bucky swallows the moan that falls from your lips as he walks the two of you out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. He’s leaning down, your body gently falling onto the cold sheets below you, he’s screwed he thinks as his eyes drink in your naked form, he’s screwed because he loves you so much, and it scares him because he’s never felt this strongly for someone before.

He leans back over you, body covering yours as his lips connect to yours once more, a soft sigh falls from your lips, your hands snaking their way around his back to pull him closer. Lips pressing further into his, you deepen the kiss, tongue running over his lower lip.

Tongues dancing slowly with one another, his hands roam down the curve of your body, fingers press into your waist as he pulls his lips away from yours, a gasp falling from his lips as he pulls air back into his lungs. Your hips are rocking against his needing to feel the weight of his cock against your aching core, a shiver rolls through him at the low moan falling from your lips, his dick twitching with want. His head presses to yours eyes connecting, a warm smile pulls at your lips, fingers sliding across his face, finding their way into his hair as you pull him down. “i need you Buck,” you whisper lips brushing against his.

His hand at your waist slips further down hooking around your thigh as he brings it up to rest around his hips. A moan is falling from both your lips as the new position allows for the head of his cock to press into your folds, his hips roll forward the tip brushing against your aching clit.

Hand leaving your thigh it snakes it’s way between your bodies to grab a hold of his cock. Dragging it through your slick folds he presses into your warm heat, a moan is falling from your lips as he bottoms out, your lips connecting with his.

“Fuck sweetheart,” he moans against your lips, “always feel so good around me.”  

He doesn’t move at first enjoying the feeling of you fluttering and clenching around him. He’s lost on you and how you feel around him, everything about you is so damn beautiful. His hands come up to cup your cheek, thumb running over the swell of your lower lip, “so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs.

Your breath hitches in your throat, heart swelling in your chest, “please move, I need you to move, baby,” you reply your own hands running over stubble of his beard.

His hips retreat from yours, cock sliding out from within you till only the tip is left. His lips are pressing to yours, hips surging forward as he builds up a slow rhythm. Your hands leave his face to wrap around his back, fingers digging into the warm skin there pulling him impossibly closer to you. Low grunts are falling from his lips as he fucks up into you, your other leg hooking around his waist to get him deeper.  

His head finds its way to your neck lips searching out that hidden sweet spot that will have you coming undone in his arms, his thrusts have picked up speed, a steady speed which draws the sweetest groans of pleasure falling from your lips. He could listen to those sounds falling from your sinful lips for the rest of his life if you would let him.

His lips draw away from your neck needing to see you fall apart from him as he continues to bring you closer to that sweet release. Your lips are parted open, eyes covered over in lust, but there’s something more there, something that has his heart stalling in his chest, because he swears, you’re looking at him like he just hung the stars for you.

“gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous,” he whispers to himself, “look at you sweetheart,” he grunts hips picking up speed, “you’re an absolute angel,”

A moan is catching in your throat, now you’re the one who’s heart is stilling in their chest, “Bucky I-” but you stop yourself. Bucky understand then, picks up on those words that wanted to fall from your lips, because god did he want to say them too. His hand searches for yours on the bed grasping it in his as he pushes you deeper into the bed, his whole body consuming you.

He’s thrusting hard, deep, burying himself in you, your walls fluttering around him as your orgasm approaches. Your head pushed forward , lips finding his shoulder as you kiss the scarred skin there, an intimate motion that has Bucky’s head reeling.  

“Bucky please,” you whine low in your throat, pressing warm wet kisses into his skin. He picks up speed needing to bring you to that release, a particularly deep thrust has you falling apart around him, your body falling over the edge, your orgasm washing over you. Long low moans are falling from your parted lips, fingers clawing at Bucky’s back as he fucks you through the pleasure. His name falls from your lips in a silent prayer, you’re pleading, you need to feel him, you need him to cum for you.

Bucky pushes your further into the mattress, his jaw clenching as his orgasm washes over him, his stomach muscles tense, as he spills into you, warm spurts filling your core, he never wants this feeling to end. Not wanting to crush you he goes to move away but your legs keep him locked with you, “stay,” you murmur in your post orgasmic haze.

Your arms pull him down, his head falling to your chest, your heart beating away wildly in your chest. Your fingers run through his chocolate locks, lips pressing into his hair.  

He loves you he thinks, he really loves you.

Part 10

Behind The Screen Tag-list: @ladifreakingda @georgialeighc13 @racewife2004​ @multy-fandom-lover​ @otvlanga​ @sailorstupidsblog​ @n1ghtsh4d3-67​ @wantingtobekorra​ @gazzan-a​ @clarinette07​ @amanda-the-fangirl​ @im-sure-its-fine​ @sagechanoafterdark​ @heyywestman @runaway-escape​ @ilovesupersoldiers​  @unlistedpond​ @rayofdawnworld​ @badassbaker​ @spookyanairwin​ @fandom-basurero​ @krabby-tentacles​ @sassy-pelican​ @lizlepuffs​ @jaywolf840​ @xoasalxo

[fallenfurther]

Babysitting - Part 4

Finally got round to typing this up on my week off and finally got the WIP finished! Although the last chapter became two, so here is the how @selene-tempest kept her nephew busy for in the morning. Part 1 , 2 and 3. Enjoy!

*******

Her nephew’s wardrobe was a marvel to behold. Selene knew every inhabitant of the island so could tell exactly who had contributed what to the pile. The boy pulled out a white polo shirt with deep red stripes on the collar and dropped it on the floor before doing the same to a black top with a photo of a galaxy on it. Selene had grabbed a pair of dark jeans that she swore were just a miniature version of Scott’s favourite pair, and pulled the boy onto her lap so she could wrangle them onto him. There was some moaning from the struggling boy, but she won the fight. She even managed to slip on a pair of socks, which she hoped were clean, before he crawled away.

“Okay, pick your top then.”

Another three shirts ended up on the floor before her nephew turned around with a garish Hawaiian one grasped in his fists. It was a mix of yellow and green with white flowers which she had never seen on the child before. Selene was certain Scott had mentioned throwing out an awful flowery shirt before, so she couldn’t understand why the child was currently beaming at her like he’d won the lottery. He offered it to her.

“You really want to wear this one?” She questioned, holding it between her fingertips.

“Yes!”

The child raised his hands in the air ready to receive the garment. Selene rolled her eyes and did as she was told, though she quickly grabbed her phone and snapped a picture. Her nephew gave the camera a giant dimpled smile, and Selene posted it in the family chat with the caption “He’s so proud of his choices”. Grabbing a pair of the boy’s trainers, Selene beckoned the boy to the room she and John shared. Grabbing a clean pair of jogging bottoms and large comfy top, she changed as quickly as she could. She grabbed the brush she kept in the bathroom and ran it through her hair under the watchful eye of her nephew. Her phone buzzed and a few taps brought up the chat.

Scott: I thought I’d disposed of that one.

Scott: At least brush his hair.

Selene: I’m getting to it

She rolled her eyes. She hadn’t forgotten. Kneeling in front of the child, she gently ran the brush through his soft brown locks. He screwed up his eyes a few times when she caught the larger tangles, but she worked them out before sweeping the hair into its usual style; not that it would stay neat for long. Snapping a picture, she posted into the chat.

Selene: Done.

Scott: Thank you, Selene

Placing the phone on the side, Selene unscrewed the lid on her sunscreen moisturizer and started rubbing it into her face, placing the pot on the edge of the sink. Out the corner of her eye a small hand reached up for the pot. A little finger got in before she could stop it. She screwed on the lid and put the pot out of reach. The child became incredibly curious about the white cream on his finger and Selene hoped it wouldn’t end up in his mouth.

“Rub it on your face, sweetie.”

Those blue eyes peered up with sparkling curiosity, and the finger was presented to her. Gently, she took his hand and guided it to his cheek where she helped him rub it in. Once it was all rubbed in, she left the boy to stroke his cheek. After she'd finished creaming her face, she grabbed John’s Factor 50 from the side. Squirting a dollop into her hand, she rubbed it all over her nephew’s face, grabbing his arm as he squirmed. Another generous squeeze and she rubbed the thick cream over the rest of his exposed skin. Her nephew huffed as she washed her hands. Grabbing her lip balm and a hairband from the jeans John had worn yesterday, she tied her hair back before rubbing the salve over her lips. A glance in the mirror confirmed she was all set to face the windy beach. She turned back to her sulking nephew.

“Go grab your shoes so we can go fly your kite.”

“Kite!”

Selene sat down on the floor and helped the boy into his trainers, before reaching out and grabbing her trainers. Lacing them up was made difficult by her nephew wrapping his arms around her neck in and giving her an awkward hug from behind. The excited giggles in her ear warmed her heart, and once done, she twisted and pulled the child into a big tight squeeze which he returned. Warmth filled her as he buzzed with youthful energy. Releasing him, she stood and offered him her hand.

“Let’s go have some fun.”

*****

Those deep blue eyes stared straight into her and pleaded with her soul. The quivering lip and watery eyes were a stark contrast to the large smile plastered on the kite in his hands. The small kite, with its picture of Thunderbird One, had flown well in the breeze. Her nephew had spent a good amount of time flying it, running across the sand and through the surf with glee as it chased him. However, that just wasn’t enough for him and he wanted to fly the big kite. ‘John’s kite’ as he called it. Technically it was Gordon’s kite, which had been dug out of the attic of the ranch, but her nephew saw it as John’s because he was the one that had introduced it to him. This kite required more force than the breeze was currently willing to give. Selene had tried to encourage it into the air, having already thrown it up multiple times only to jump back so it didn’t hit her when it crashed back down to earth. She had stuck her finger in the air to work out the best wind direction and where to stand the boy. She had even jogged beside him as he ran with it, encouraging him to go as fast as his little legs could go, but the damn thing refused to take to the air. It’s bright yellow smiling face mocked her as her nephew continued to plead with her. John had said it was kite flying weather, so it should be good kite flying weather! Did he take it with him? Closing her eyes, Selene inhaled the fresh salty air, summing up as much energy as she could.

“I’ll run with it, but only there and back.”

His eyes lit up as he thrust the kite at her. Reluctantly she took it, turning it so she could hold it by the crossed poles. She stared down the beach and held it high, waiting for a good gust of wind. Feeling a light pull, Selene ran down the wet sand as fast as she could. She hated running. The kite filled with air and she released it from her grip. It paused, almost like it was deciding whether to fly or not. A tug on the string forced it up and it stayed in the air, much to her nephew’s delight. Squeals of joy followed her down the beach until she slowed to a stop, her body already complaining about the effort. The kite hit the ground as Selene took deep breaths.

“Again, Selene. Again.”

Those sparkling eyes gazed into hers and she started to prepare herself for what was going to happen later. The surf washed at her bare feet, trying to sink her into the sand. Picking up the kite, she held it out yet again before running back down the beach. Her nephew’s giggles let her know he was behind her. She slowed to a stop when she got back to where they had started. Her lungs inhaled deeply, as her legs complained of not having been warmed up before activity.

“Again, Selene.”

“No more. I only promised there and back.”

Those eyes turned on her again, trying their hardest to change her mind and failing. She could be swayed on a lot of things, but voluntarily running up and down a beach was not one of them. Still holding the line, she made her way back to the blanket she’d spread out earlier, with the bag in the middle surrounded by a few toys. Selene collapsed on it and slipped her hand into the bag and retrieved a water bottle. She glugged it as her nephew pottered up the beach with the kite. He stood before her. She knew exactly what was coming.

“Fly kite, Selene.”

His voice was soft as he pleaded, but Selene shook her head. It was not happening. She stretched out her legs as the boy came up close and put his arm around her back. His cheek pressed into her shoulder while one of the kites corners poked her chest. With her left hand guiding the kite away from her body, she scooped him onto her lap with her right and gave him a one armed hug. Using her leg as leverage she managed to slip the rods from the fabric, though he also saw the second part of the manoeuvre.

“No!”

“It’s not windy enough for this kite. You can play with the little one.”

“No. Selene, no.”

“The big one is going away.”

The child burst into tears and wailed. Selene knew this was going to happen, she’d seen the signs. Her nephew threw his arms around her and buried his face into her chest. Dropping the kite, she consoled the sobbing boy, rubbing his back. She could feel her top getting damp.

“Come on, sweetie. No need to cry, everything is okay.”

She continued to soothe the child until his tears started to slow. A few snivels came from him as he turned to wipe his face with his hand. Selene knew this was about more than the kite. Picking up her water bottle, she popped the top and offered the remains to her nephew. Eventually his small hands slowly reached out and took it, before drinking it greedily. The tears had stopped, though his eyes were still red and his cheeks rosy. Grabbing a packet of raisins from the snack stash, she offered it to him. Eyes widened and an exchange was made. His fingers happily pulled the fruit from the box one by one. He kindly offered one to her and she sucked it from his slimy fingers. It put a smile back on his face. Selene brushed her hand through his now windswept hair, before pressing a tissue to his running nose. He blew reluctantly, before finishing off the raisins.

Now fed, her nephew happily grabbed the smaller kite and ran off with it trailing behind him. Dusting off the sand he’d thrown up with his departure, Selene smiled as she rolled up a towel and placed it beneath her head. She kept her eyes on the boy as the sun warmed her skin and the breeze blew the odd purple strand across her vision. It was almost relaxing. Almost.

“Selene!”

She guessed she’d gotten ten minutes of peace before he’d called. The child was staring down at something on the floor, the kite slowly fluttering down behind him.

“Selene, squishy thing.”

Selene bolted upright, having spent enough time around Gordon to know that squishy could be dangerous. She hastened over to the child and breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of an old plastic bag that had washed ashore. She grabbed his hand before he could touch it though, not knowing if it could contain something that wasn’t so mundane.

“Let’s not touch it. It’s just a bit of rubbish, nothing fun.”

Her nephew deflated before turning back to his kite which was floating in the wash.

“Uh oh.”

Her nephew brought a smile to her face as he hurried over and picked up the dripping diamond. She could see Scott rolling his eyes at the thought of Thunderbird One taking an unscheduled dip in the sea. Heading back to the blanket, she grabbed a fresh nappy bag and used it to scoop up the plastic bag before it was dragged back to sea, knowing Gordon would be furious if she let it happen. He had gone off on so many tirades about sea pollution and marine conservation over the years that she couldn’t take another. Doing her environmental deed for the day, she joined her nephew in the wash, where the kite had been discarded in preference of stones and shells. The water lapped at their feet, bringing sporadic giggles from the toddler, as they made their way down the beach. Selene’s hands slowly filled with her nephew’s ‘treasures’, which were made up of his favourite broken shells, stones and occasional piece of smoothed glass, from goodness knows where. As the sun took its place high in the sky, Selene’s stomach growled.

“Let’s head back now and get some lunch.”

Her nephew ran to her grinning, hands outstretched for his ‘treasures’. Selene gladly dumped the damp pile into his hands, drying them against her bottoms. Shaking out the blanket, she packed their things knowing most of it would be doing straight into the laundry basket. The walk back to the villa started off slow, with her nephew slowly picking through his ‘treasures’ and throwing the ones now deemed unworthy away. Once happy with his selection, he held them up to her, just as he did to his father, so they could be kept safe. Two smoothed out glass fragments, one green, one white, and a small intact spiral shell were dropped into her hand, which she slipped into her pocket. They would be put in the boy’s treasure box, which Scott kept in his room. Selene had seen both Scott and Gordon go through the items with the boy. The more interesting items in the box were normally suggestions from said uncle, having been found during one of their rock pooling expeditions. Her nephew took her free hand, his little fingers wrapping round hers, and gave her a content dimpled smile that melted her heart. The kid was so much like his father. Having his hand in hers was great but didn’t last long. He was off again, running ahead to explore the foliage that surrounded the path. Selene sighed as flowers were poked, leaves grasped and sometimes pulled off. Thankfully the leaf he decided to wave around was picked up from the floor and not yanked from the plant. He danced around Selene with it, flapping it around and above his head until it too became boring as was discarded on the path. She would not mention this to Virgil, who had tried on various occasions to teach the curious tornado to be gentle with the plants, and given Scott a death glare in the process.

Upon reaching the villa, Selene grabbed the child’s arm and guided him down the side of the house to the pool’s changing rooms. Removing his now sandy shoes, she dumped her nephew in the large metal basin used for washing Sherbet. Soap and warm water turned it into a foot bath that resulted in some joyous splashing from her nephew. Scott seemed to stash clean clothes everywhere, and having found some in a nearby cupboard, Selene dried and redressed the boy. He was now in blue shorts and a red check shirt that screamed Virgil. Selene rolled her eyes. After giving her own feet a quick wash down, they headed to the elevator so he could put his ‘treasures’ in the box. The moment the doors opened her nephew was off.

“Daddy! Daddy!”

Selene swallowed as she hurried after him, knowing Scott wasn’t due back until late that evening. The board meeting he and Jeff were required to attend meant he had to be away for two days and as much as Scott wanted to come back to the island to see his son, it made no sense as the boy would be asleep. This was the longest the child had been on the island without his Dad being with him.

“Daddy?”

Selene knelt in the middle of Scott’s room as the boy’s lip trembled and pulled him into a hug.

“He’ll be home later, when the sky is dark.”

Scooping him up into her arms, she grabbed the box and opened it for her nephew. He sniffled as he dropped his treasures in.

“You can show Daddy tomorrow.”

He nodded, wrapping his arms around her neck. Selene’s stomach rumbled, reminding her of their intended destination. Carrying the boy downstairs, she headed through the living room, receiving a brief wave from a busy Sally as they passed by.

“Grammie.”

Her nephew’s voice was soft and sad in her ear.

“Grandma is busy, but we can make her some food to help.”

He started playing with her hair, brushing the deep purple strands along her neck. Selene shifted him as she collected up the things she needed, her arm already aching from carrying him so far. Ultimately she had to put him down. Thankful he hadn’t complained too much as she let him cling to her leg instead, allowing her to make some sandwiches. Sweeping them, crisps, juice and some bananas onto a tray, she coaxed her nephew upstairs. A plate was slid before Sally, who smiled gratefully while taking a bite. Selene curled up on the sofa with her nephew, where they ate their lunch listening to the comm line. The boys voices filled the room, on a delay as EOS filtered out anything young ears shouldn’t hear. Her nephew relaxed to the chorus of his uncle’s voices, and eventually drifted off to sleep in Selene’s arms. Putting him to bed with a kiss, she tapped on the monitor and headed back to the couch where she collapsed. As if on cue, John floated before her, seated in Thunderbird One’s cockpit with a bottle of water. There was dirt on his uniform, breaking up the sensor lines that traversed his frame. His eyes were half distracted, obviously reading something on the display before him.

“How’s it going back on the island?”

Her heart fluttered at his voice. Damn, it never got old hearing him.

“Tiring, he’s got so much energy. You were wrong about the wind, the kite wouldn’t fly.”

John’s brow creased as his emerald eyes met hers.

“Really? EOS was certain the wind speed would be ideal for kites.”

“Well, she was wrong. That yellow monstrosity wouldn’t fly.”

“Hey! It’s not a monstrosity!” Gordon piped in, suddenly floating next to John, though he was clearly in a pod. “That’s the happiest kite in the world and always flies great.”

John rolled his eyes, making Selene bite her lip.

“So that’s why you threw a tantrum and hid it away in the attic? Because it flew too well?”

Gordon’s glare was adorable.

“Boys,” Grandma’s stern voice echoed around the room, “pay attention to what you’re doing. John, there’s a family not far from your location in need of evacuation."

“FAB, grandma.”

John gave Selene a parting grin, while Gordon stuck out his tongue. Selene slipped out her phone, allowing herself to catch up on her emails, sorting through her clients requests so she could tackle them tomorrow. Lying back, she relaxed into the sofa, knowing she only had a few hours to herself.