#And I swear if i see one rude or aggressive comment it's on sight

[set-wingedwarrior]

I want cishets at pride.

I want allies, both my personal friends and also strangers, to be at my side and support me.

Why the fuck is this considered such a problematic discourse? I hate to remind you that pride is still very well a march and a protest for our rights! We want, we NEED all the support available! Why are you all so stuck up about wanting to shut out the PEOPLE ON OUR SIDE???

Why aren't you HAPPY to see people marching with us when they have nothing personal to gain from it? Doing it because they believe we're right even if it doesn't personally affect them?

Last pride I went to (last year) I found some of my cis straight classmates there to show support! We marched together and had a good time! It was great knowing 100% for sure that they were safe to be around, and we are currently still friends! Don't you want that too?

You all are chasing them away and then wondering why society seems less accepting of us lately, gee, I wonder why! (tbf, I know there are many things affecting it, but this sure isn't helping and does play a part!)

Just chill and be happy that there are people who want to partecipate and be at our side even if they're not queer or have queer friends/relativea themselves!

This discourse is so goddamn stupid and harmful to our cause.

[wifekasa]

hello! i really enjoy ur content and i read that ur requests are open, so is it okay if i can request something where levi and the reader had an argument, and the rest of the scouts are very aware of it because of the very cold and scary aura coming from them, and so the squad tries various ways to set them up so they can make up with another? thank you!!😁

a/n: ahh first of all thank you! second off, i love this idea omg 🙏 also the reader is another captain!!

levi x reader

“don’t die on me.”

cw: swearing, one kiss scene, mentions of death (barely)

The scouts immediately knew something was wrong when you entered the dining area. It was like there was a dark aura floating around your body that caused everyone within a 4 foot vicinity of you to scatter away like startled birds. Your eyebrows were furrowed and your back was hunched. You stalked into the room and sank down beside Hange who seemed rather unfazed by your cold attitude.

“Oi. Y/N. What’s up with the murderous look in your eye? I think you made the scouts shit themselves.” They chuckled, biting into their bread and looking at you with a hint of amusement twinkling in their eyes.

You lip twitched downward as you scoffed, “Ask shorty.”

Hange made a noise of surprise that you ignored, turning back to your food. You were not in the mood to be pestered. Picking at your food with distain, you tuned out the rest of the room. Due to this, you missed the short raven-haired man walking into the room with the same cold presence that you were amitting. You felt his eyes burning holes into your head but refused to look up, you didn’t wanna give that bastard the time of day.

Levi scoffed when you ignored him, grabbing his plate and settling down at the opposite end of your table. Hange nearly rolled their eyes at the pettiness the two of you were displaying.

Clearing their throat, the titan enthusiast spoke up, “Trouble in paradise?”

“Shut up.” You both countered in sync, still refusing to acknowledge eachother.

The two of you were too stubborn to admit that you were wrong. Maybe neither of you were in the wrong but after the shouting match that took place last night, you didn’t feel like immediately making amends. You had tried to express to Levi how scared you were that he was going to die on one of these missions, however your tone was quite harsh and Levi misread it. He took it as you not having faith in his abilities which was a punch to the gut for the stubborn Captain. He in return, argued that you were running the same risk on missions and since you weren’t nearly as strong as him, you had an even higher risk of getting hurt. Frustrated that he insulted your abilities and didn’t see your point, you stormed out of his office, slamming the door behind you.

The two of you hadn’t spoken since the blowup last night and it was now mid-afternoon the next day. You were in charge of training the scouts this afternoon and due to the anger boiling up inside of you, you put them through a particularly rigorous training course. All of them were clutching their sides and panting heavily when you finally dismissed them.

“Is it just me or does Captain Y/N seem a little harsh today?” Connie spoke up as he downed a glass of water.

“Yeah, that training course kicked my ass. I think they had a fight with Levi, I heard some of the soldiers talking about it.” Jean replied.

Sasha was quiet for a minute before she finally spoke up, “I have an idea!” She exclaimed with a mischievous glint in her eye.

“That’s not good.” Armin commented quietly.

Later that night, Sasha had cornered you and told you there was scary noises coming from a broom closet and had asked for help checking it out. You reluctantly agreed, only because it was getting late and you wanted to get to bed. The two of you went to the closet, footsteps echoing across the quiet halls.

Entering the small room, you spoke, “Hmm. Sasha there’s nothing in here, are you sure-.” You got cut off due to the door being slammed in your face and locked shut.

Jiggling the handle aggressively, you yelled, “Sasha Braus I swear to god, if you don’t let me out of here it’s no bread for a week!”

Sasha gulped but stayed strong, hoping Armin was on his way with Levi. Ten minutes later, Armin showed up... without Levi. Sasha’s eyes nearly popped out of her head, “Armin, where the hell is Levi?!”

Armin scratched the back of his neck, “He wouldn’t come. Said I should ‘get some balls and go look at the noise by myself’.”

Sasha sheepishly opened the door to a very angry Captain, crying as you yelled and told her she wasn’t getting bread for a week. You’d almost felt bad if it weren’t for the fact that several spiders decided to crawl up your leg while you were trapped inside the miserable closest.

The next day, you were in an even worse mood because of the broom closet accident. So, the scouts went back to planning the reunion of their two grumpy captains.

The new plan consisted of getting the two of you within ten feet of each other, which proved difficult. Eren and Jean would both ask for combat training from the two of you and hoped that maybe being close to each other would spark a conversation between you two.

However, the plan backfired when seeing eachother made the two of you even angrier so you both fought the boys aggressively which resulted in Jean and Eren laying on their asses as the two of you stalked off in seperate directions.

You were quite grumpy at this point, snapping at the smallest things and taking things out on the wrong people. You knew it was wrong but you couldn’t help it; it felt like everyone was trying to piss you off.

By now, Hange had grown tired of you and Levi’s negative energy and the beat-up scouts. So finally, they decided to step in.

They found you in your office working on paperwork and quickly grabbed your hand, rudely dragging you away from your work.

“What the hell Hange!” You exclaimed, trying to turn back to your work but Hange had a suprisingly strong grip.

“Sorry! But I need to show you this thing I’ve been working on. It’s urgent!” They explained as they pulled you through the halls. They stopped in front of a random room, opening the door and shoving you in.

“Oi, four eyes, where is the ‘urgent thing’ you needed to show me?” You gasped as you realized Levi was in the room that Hange had just thrown you into.

Levi’s eyes widened when he noticed you in the room and he started shaking his head, “Don’t you dare Hange-.”

SLAM.

Hange locked the door, leaving the two of you sitting alone in your tension. The silence was heavy as you avoided eye contact, plotting the many ways you could get back at the scientist for this later. You were so caught up in your own thoughts you didn’t even realize Levi was staring at you till he spoke up.

“Do you ever plan to let us talk this out or are you just gonna be an angry brat for the rest of your life?” His tone was cold.

Your eyes snapped up to meet his grey ones, searching them for any emotion but you were met with nothing, his walls were up. “What is there to talk about? You made it clear how you feel.”

“How I feel?” He questioned.

“That I’m not strong enough for you. Maybe I’m not humanity’s strongest but I’m talented and that deserves to be recognized. I’m not gonna let you shit on my talent just because I hurt your ego. Which by the way, I don’t even know why you thought I was attacking your skills. I just want you to be safe and I don’t know why you can’t just- MHPM.” Your rant was cut off midway by the feeling of warm lips against yours.

You froze for a moment before returning the kiss, running your hands up into his hair and opening your mouth to deepen the kiss. Levi’s hands snaked around you waist, pulling you tight against his chest. This continued for a few more seconds before you pulled away, cheeks flushed and lips swollen.

Levi spoke up, “I know you’re a talented soldier, it’s something I really respect about you. I shouldn’t have phrased it the way I did, I just... I don’t want to lose you. So, I want you to be the best because then, my chances of loosing you are less.” You looked at him in shock.

His grey eyes showed love and ... fear. The fear of loosing you like he’d lost so many. Your chest tightened at the sight. Tears pricked in your eyes as you pulled him into another hug.

“You don’t have to worry about me, okay? I’m gonna fight with everything I got to make sure I come home to you. You just make sure you do the same, don’t go dying on me.” Your speech was slightly muffled by his shirt but he nodded nonetheless.

“Yay! The lovebirds finally made up! Good! I was worried you were gonna kill the scouts.” Hange laughed from the other side of the now opened door.

a/n: this ain’t the greatest but i wrote it at midnight so yk 😐👋

[realcube]

soft haikyuu!! boys with a baddie* s/o  😈

characters:  yamaguchi, hinata, suga, akaashi, nishinoya & tendou

tw// swearing

*(a/n): anon requested a kinda sassy, sarcastic reader and verbatim ‘she is basically a salt bag, but she also has like some sugar’  so i simplified that down to baddie :) so the reader isn’t really a delinquent but they are a bit rough around the edges uffabvrslbv 

Tadashi Yamaguchi

he definitely thinks you’re really cool and he wants to be just like you :O

bc you give off ‘bad bitch who doesn’t care about what other ppl think about them’ energy and what he would give tO HAVE THAT!!

so that’s when he knew he needed to be your friend >:) 

so he was like ‘tsukki, go talk to (y/n) for me >:)’ thinking that was his first step to becoming confident pfft

luckily, god was on his side though bc the teacher rearranged the seats and you and him were sitting next to each other 

hence, he got the opportunity to talk to you without it seeming too forced

you both fell for each other so hard

like he would act tough to try impress you but you preferred his natural softness while you tried to act uncharacteristically docile so you wouldn’t scare him off but he liked you for your boldness 

it was a match made in heaven 💞

he eventually worked up the courage to ask you out one day and y’all have just been falling more ever since

although, that doesn’t mean yamaguchi’s forgotten one of the main reasons he wanted to be with you in the first place

‘please teach me your ways, (y/n)!’ he pleaded, his head resting on your lap so you had to cover his puppy-eyes with your phone

‘no, tadashi. firstly, you’re sweet and gentle- you’re just built like that. secondly, i don’t have any ‘ways’ to teach you!’

yamaguchi continued to pry, ‘then how are you just so effortlessly self-assured?’

‘who told you that, tadashi?’

‘no one.’ yamaguchi poked the back of your hand to get you to move it, ‘but remember that time one of the guys in our class tried to make fun of the size of your head and you told him to shut up?’

you rolled your eyes, setting your phone aside before placing a brief kiss on yamaguchi’s forehead, ‘he said he couldn’t see the board because of my ‘big head’, tadashi; that’s hardly an insult. also, what else could i have possibly said other than that?’

but then you remembered this is yamaguchi you’re talking to; if that was him, he’d probably apologise, move his head aside then cry in the bathroom or sumn.

‘i should be the one asking you why you’re so insecure. i mean, i know everyone is a little bit insecure about something but you just take it to a whole other level.’ you mused, absentmindedly massaging his scalp

yamaguchi frowned, ‘exactly! teach me how to stop being insecure.’

‘no please, no thank you?’ you inquired with a snicker, realising that your habits might of accidentally rubbed off on him

bc just a few weeks ago, he’d be thanking you for breathing the same air as him but now he didn’t even say ‘please’ when asking for a favour 

gasp

‘please teach me how to be resilient, (y/n).’

you chuckled, leaning down to whisper in his ear, ‘okay, since you’re so polite, i’ll tell you my secret - but promise not to tell anybody else!.’

‘i promise.’ yamaguchi replied without hesitation

‘okay, first thing you need to do is go to the depths of hell and find satan hims--’ 

yamaguchi let out a sigh as he realised that you weren’t being serious then playfully flicked your forehead away, ‘rude.’

you beamed, pressing another kiss upon his forehead, ‘i know~’

Shōyō Hinata

let’s not pretend hinata wasn’t shitting his pants when he first heard about you from kageyama

‘they called me a shitty setter the other day.’

but kageyama failed to mention the part where he cut you in line for lunch 🙄 mans had it coming

like hinata genuinely thought that if he came within a 5 foot radius of you, you’d literally come for volleyball career

plus, hinata knew he had a lot of things to be insults on (mostly, his height) so he decided to keep his distance at first 

but when he actually saw you - rather than a vague description that kageyama conjured - he kinda fell head over heels

well, not only bc of your looks - he isn’t that shallow

but the same day, you dropped your purse/wallet on the walk home and ,mhsince hinata was walking behind you, he acted as any good Samaritan would; picked it up then handed it to you 

then you said something along the lines of ‘thanks, shorty.’

not shawty. lord- shorty as in short with a y at the end

and whether you meant that as a dig or not was beyond him - but either way, he fkn adored it 

also it doesn’t matter whether you are taller or shorter than hinata- he is still short-stuff >:)

by some miracle he managed to ask you out successfully and he’s kinda been glued to you ever since

like he wants to spend every second that he’s not at volleyball club/school with you 

and if you tell him he’s being clingy, he’s going to cry-

nonono jk jk

he’d probably be a bit offended but then give you your space

also, you noticed how he was really endeared by the tad mean nicknames you gave him like ‘shorty’, ‘short stuff’ and ‘ginger’

the only ones he didn’t like was ‘boke’ or ‘dumbass’ bc it reminded him too much of kageyama + tsukishima

so you started calling him these things - teasingly - more frequently 

and he loves it ngl

as long as you aren’t truly mean to him, he enjoys being called these things by you for some reason

so, his first mistake was assuming that you’d like being called these joking nicknames just as much as he does

you were helping him with english once and it’s definitely not his strong suit

same, hinata

‘look at that! you spelt all your vocabs correctly, for a change.’ you commented, peering over the desk at the paper sitting in front of him

his eyes widened and his lips curled into a hopeful smile, ‘really?!’

‘no.’ you snickered, pointing to the first word on the list. ‘your word was taxis - you wrote ‘texas’, dumbass.’

hinata let out an exasperated sigh, propping his elbow onto the table to rest his cheek on his palm

then, he had an idea ( •̀ ω •́ )✧

‘alright, stupidface, should i rewrite them?’

you gasped, furrowing your brows at what he just called you 

for a moment, you thought you might’ve misheard him but upon observing his smug expression, you realised that he really did just call you a ‘stupidface’ 

so you burst out laughing 

obviously, hinata was rather shocked at your reaction

‘hey! what’s so funny?’

‘di- di- did you just call me a ‘stupidface’?!’ you panted in-between cackles, clutching your stomach to soothe the butterflies

hinata jutted out his bottom lip and folding his arms over his chest, ‘yeah, what about it?’

‘that is so cute!- do it again!’ you demanded, enthusiastically slamming your fist against the desk

‘IT’S NOT CUTE!’ hinata barked, playfully flicking your forehead 

once you caught your breath, you took hinata’s hands and looked him dead in the eyes, ‘you’re fucking adorable, shōyō.’

the hoarseness of your voice making it sound like somewhat of a threat 

‘you’re adorable-er, (y/n).’

‘i know.’

Kōshi Sugawara 

he admires how strong and independent you are/seem 😍

and the fact you don’t go out of your way to suck-up to ppl 

he kinda wants to be like you in that sense but unlike yamaguchi, he accepts that he’s way too much of a people pleaser for that lol

so he sticks to admiring you from afar

then he musters up the courage to ask you out with some chocolate cupcakes; the same kind that you accidentally got on his blazer on the first day of second year :))

and you say yes (╯▽╰ )

also a big part of your relationship is aggressive positivity ✨😡

like if he makes a joke about looking crusty, you’ll promptly respond, ‘shut up, kōshi - you look so hot.’

or if you berate yourself for getting a poor mark on a test, suga will interrupt with no hesitation, ‘fuck off, (y/n), you’re literally so smart and hard working - you’ll probably get 100% on the next test.’

also when he’s around you he switches between canon and fanon suga rapidly 

one second he’s like ‘aww, are you stressed bc of school? i’ll bake you some cookies, baby--’ then you’ll jokingly make a comment about his post-practise B.O and he’ll literally get so defensive

‘WOW I OFFER YOU SOMETHING NICE AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY ME?! STOP BEING SO MEAN TO ME, COMING FOR MY INSECURITES LIKE THAT  - I WAS JUST ABOUT TO GO FOR A SHOWER ANYWAY GEEZ’ ┗|｀O′|┛

ISVBFELIAEA plz he is too much ✋

he just prides himself in smelling like ocean breeze 99% of the time so you really didn’t need to hurt his feelings like that when you caught him lackin c’mon LMAO

‘wait so are we making cookies or not?’ you inquired, stifling a snicker at his little diva moment

‘ofc we are 🥺’  

he’ll probably use red icing on one of the cookies to draw a ‘>:(’ face then hand it to you, saying that he drew you

he’ll also break of bits of his own cookie and feed it to you’re doing something that requires both hands like typing, homework, dishes etc

whether you eat it from his hand happily, decline his offer or bite his fingers off is really up to you 

and over time, he probably picks up on some of your traits too

especially being more straight-forward 

the team will never forget the first time he was chatting about something with the vice principle and ‘sorry, but i don’t remember asking’  fell from his lips 

everyone was shocked :o

tsukishima, tanaka & noya were so impressed tho

and so were you IVBEAOGVRN

‘wow, suga. you wanna be me so bad.’ you gloated, pressing your hand against your chest 

‘GAEIVBSLR leave me alone.’ he growled, toiling over the apology letter he was currently writing to the vice principal

Keiji Akaashi 

he wanted you to be the dark academia to his light academia pfft

it was very much love at first sight btw 

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ soulmates  *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

the embodiment of opposites attract

he’d write you a poem/love letter to ask you out lol

‘you’re so sappy and lame, akaashi’ you scoffed in attempt to hide the smile that was tugging at the corners of your lips as your eyes finally parted from the letter to meet his 

he couldn’t help but chuckle, ‘so is that a no?’

‘-nonono!’ you shook your head rapidly, hastily correcting him, ‘it’s a yes.’

phew 

honestly, he acted all nonchalant on the outside, but akaashi would’ve been devastated if you rejected him

like he constantly tried to remind himself that you would probably say no, i mean he thought you were way out of his league. plus, it didn’t seem as though you were as much of a romantic as him

but fortunately, apart of him stayed hopeful 

now he was cuddled up beside you on a cold winters’ evening, casually drinking is hot cocoa as you both watched a disney movie (❤´艸｀❤)

he’s the type to not even care or retort if you call him stupid or whatever

as long as your context makes it clear that you’re joking 

he’d never call you those names back though ✋

to him, you’re always gonna be ‘love’ or ‘sweetheart’

also, he’s probably equally as sarcastic as you so that’s not an issue 

ngl he probably gets really insecure when you’re hesitant about PDA tho

like he just wants to hold your hand but he doesn’t want to force it upon you and make you uncomfortable 🥺

but also, perhaps you’re too embarrassed by him to kiss him in public 

so please occasionally reassure him that you love him (；′⌒`) that always washes all his worries away 

Yū Nishinoya

it’s literally canon that he likes ppl who show 0 interest in him (kiyoko, tsukki etc)

so it shouldn’t be surprising that he’s all over you after that one time you called him a midget 

to be fair, he had it coming - he stepped on your fkn toe >:(( 

he does everything in his power to impress you and get you to take back what you said 

‘hey, (y/n)!’ he calls out to you in the middle of the bustling lunch hall, ‘could a midget do this?!’ *backflips off the table*

or when he demanded that you come to one of his volleyball games so you could see what he’s capable of and whenever he makes a good receive, he turns to look at you in the stands and winks/ points

or when he actually studies for a test just so he can flaunt his slightly above average grade to you 

‘look, (y/n), i got a 49%!’ he waves a paper in front of your face, which you stare at before lowering your gaze onto your 95%.

but ngl..he really brings out that lil’ bit of sugar in you 

‘well done, noya.’ you choked out feeling your dignity slowly fade in your chest

he’s just so enthusiastic and charming how can you be mean to him 🥺

to his face, at least

as soon as he leaves you beef about him to your friends

‘he is so annoyingly bodacious - audacious! why does he feel the need to show me all of his achievements like i care??? and why does he have to be so cute while doing it???’

‘do you think you maybe have a teeny-tiny crush on him?--’

‘never.’

nishinoya probably asks you out pretty casually like ‘lemme take you bowling this saturday and i can show how good i am at that too!’ he offered with a bright, bold smile

‘sure, whatever.’

‘kay! it’s a date!’

‘wut-’ but before you could question him further, he sped off

nishinoya really likes to fluster and tease you 

you’ll be sitting waiting for him at the park or whatever and he’ll swagger in and shout something like ‘how’s my gorgeous s/o doing today?! i hope you weren’t waiting for me too long!--’

then you’ll have to quickly shush him before everyone with a 7 feet radius is looking at you judgementally 

he also likes to call you the most extra nicknames just to see you blush

‘good morning, my beautiful, divine, radiant god(dess) who i worship every morning of my life!~’ he sung as he waltzed into your classroom to spend lunch with you 

but he only does that bc you are so dismissive of his advances lol

like if you openly adored his kisses and nicknames, he’d probably do them sparingly  

oh and he calls you ‘my hunny bunny’ too - don’t ask why 

Satori Tendō

you gave him your number/snap for a project and he’s one of those ppl that just assumes that y’all are friend now lol

but that wasn’t nessicarily a bad thing bc you thought he was really cool and you were happy that you still got to talk to him even after the project was over 

not that you’d ever admit it tho (╹ڡ╹ )

he’d send you cursed memes at 3AM and you’d reply like ‘mood’  then he’d fall for you 

you’d also have random, deep convos in the middle of the night 

hence he fell for you even harder 

especially bc he basically just shared his whole life story with you 

he’d spill out all his insecurities to you then you’d reply like ‘ok’ then he knew he had to ask you out bc you’re the first person not to have left him on read

so he asked you to meet him in the park and you’d reply ‘no lol  🖕 ‘ 

then he’d just smile at his phone like ‘wow, they’re so in love with me’

he’s just so used to his friends being mean to him jokingly that he can’t even tell if you’re being serious or not

so he goes to the park at the time he put forward, and ofc you’re there even though you said no bc you didn’t want tendō to show up for nothing 🥺

he was ecstatic that you were there and he probably brought you an energy drink or lollipop then asked you out

and ofc you said yes

i mean- you had kinda developed a soft spot for the poor guy 

you’d let him get away with certain things that others couldn’t around you 

for instance, you’d let him borrow your pencils/pens despite usually not allowing others to get ahold of your stuff

but that was just coz like- he’s your trustworthy bf- not some random classmate who had no reason or motive to be kind enough to return your pencils 

also, you’d let him cut in front of you in the lunch line and he did the same for you

oh and please bully anyone who makes fun of him 🙏

[heliotropehotch]

distance - s.r. x gn!reader

Summary: idiots in love realize the truth after a bad date and some snooping through personal journals.

a/n: it's been a hot minute since I created any Spencer content so here you go! Thanks to all of you for your support on my first Aaron smut!!! Please leave any feedback or requests in my inbox I just love interacting with you guys<3

CW: jealous, unwanted sexual advances (just comments and words, a little bit of groping) idiots in love, snooping through journals, adorable fluff

Masterlist

author: author

words: 1589

happy reading!

The date was a complete bust. While they had really tried to enjoy it, it wasn’t like Y/N could ignore their rude tone, entitled attitude, and blatant disrespect for their boundaries. The guy had already tried to grope them three different times before they even got to the restaurant.

As their date progresses, John’s, or was it Jim, advances got more aggressive, making it clear to them that he only wanted one thing.

“Why don’t we just pay now and head back to my place?” His smirk curled unsettling across his face.

Y/N cleared their throat, fingers curling around the ends of their shirt in brace of the conversation. “I’m not sure I feel comfortable with that.”

His brows furrowed, smirk quickly dropping. “Not comfortable? Ugh, I know you’d be uptight.”

“Excuse me?”

“I agreed to go on this boring ass date, the least I can get is laid. But now you’re a fucking prude, after all this. I’m leaving.” He threw his napkin on the table before pushing his chair back loudly and brushing past the table.

For a minute, Y/N sat there shocked, staring blankly at the now empty seat across from them. They looked around, making sure that their date’s little explosion hadn’t drawn the attention of the neighboring tables. A shaky sigh left their mouth, pulling cash from their wallet and leaving well enough for both meals.

Spencer wouldn’t do this, they thought. Pain coursed through them, knowing he was the reason they agreed to this date in the first place. Spencer would be kind.

They reached for their phone, turning their car on and pulling out to get as far away from that place as possible.

“Hello?” His voice echoed through the speaker of the phone.

“Spence,” their voice was soft and saddened. “Can I come over? Please?”

“I thought you were on a date.” He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice, but wasn’t sure how well he was doing it.”

Their voice was heavy, trembling with tears caught in their throat. “He just wanted to get laid, Spence. Stormed out when I said no.”

Spencer Reid swore that he had never felt more anger than he had then. “He did what?”

“Can I just come over, please? I- I don’t wanna be alone.”

“Of course, Y/N/N,” he sighed, heart rate increasing with a new kind of panic. “Do you need me to come get you?”

“No, I’ve got my car, I’ll be there soon.” They sighed, indignant of the evening behind them. “Thank you, Spence.”

“Of course.”

---

When his best friend (and secret love interest) had arrived at his door with remnants of tears tracking down their cheeks, Spencer immediately felt guilty for even being angry at them for going on a date.

They pushed forward, wrapping their arms around his waist and burying their head in his chest. He squeezed them, rubbing small circles on their back between their shoulder blades. His heart clenched as he felt their lungs stutter with tears. “Shh, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

He pulled them into his apartment, thumbs brushing excess tears off their cheeks before setting them on his couch. He darted off to the kitchen, pouring a cup of their tea he keeps handy before settling next to them on the worn letter.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He threw his arm over the back of the seat.

“He called me a ‘fucking prude.’” They sniffled into their mug. “Said I was a boring date.”

Spencer’s hand clenched at his side in anger. “You don’t deserve that.”

They shook their head, settling the warm mug down on the coffee table. “Maybe he’s right, Spence.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I mean every relationship I’ve been in just ends with me getting left behind because they’ve grown tired of me.”

“Y/N,” he took their hands in his, something he was only comfortable doing with a few people. “Those people didn’t understand how amazing you were, and couldn’t see what they were leaving behind.”

A weak smile was sent in his direction. “Come on, let’s distract you.”

The opening credits to Doctor Who were an oddly comforting sound as Y/N sunk further into Spencer’s couch and his side. Heart racing, as it always did when they cuddled (platonically), his arms tightened around them and prayed his heart wouldn’t pound enough to disturb them.

An episode, or two passed, he wasn’t really paying attention to the screen. Their breath had settled into a steady rhythm, both of their bodies shifting to lay on the couch. The soft pressure of the air leaving their mouth tickled the thin cloth of his t-shirt, lulling him into his own sleep.

The sunlight trickled through his curtains, awakening him to the presence that still laid on his chest. He shifted carefully, releasing them from his hold. He sighed peacefully, watching their undisturbed form continue to rest.

He shuffled quietly around the apartment, resuming his own morning routine as quietly as he could. He pulled his notebook out of his work bag, writing down his thoughts to un-jumble his mind as he sat at his kitchen counter. He left a sticky note on Y/N’s phone, letting them know he went to grab food before retreating quietly out of the apartment.

When Y/N woke up, they noticed their best friend’s absence immediately, frowning at the possibility they had made him uncomfortable. Their spine elongated as they stretched from the rough support of the couch, taking account of their surroundings and the note that was left for them.

They were used to spending nights at Spencer’s honestly. Too many late nights talking, too many sleepovers. They found their way to the shower, washing off last night’s emotions with an unexpected ease. However, they grabbed a t-shirt from Spencer’s closet, too tired to put on the fancy clothes they had on yesterday.

Y/N had yet to be by themself in Spencer’s apartment, always spending time with him whenever they were there. Yet now, they could properly look at his decor without fear that he would think there was judgement. The books that littered the apartment were the perfect amount of clutter, much like how Spencer’s mind usually seemed to be. Eventually, inevitably, their eyes found the journal.

They didn’t mean to snoop, not really. But having your name written on a journal would draw anyone’s curiosity. Y/N’s heart pounded as they read the words over and over again.

I don’t understand how anyone could treat Y/N the way that dick did last night. Why doesn’t anyone see their beauty like me? I want them to be happy, even if it’s not with me.

They missed the sound of the apartment door unlocking. Or Spencer opening the door and crossing the threshold.

“Hey I got your favorite-” He paused, eyes widening at the open journal he left on the counter.

“What are you doing?” Spencer rushed out in a panic as he closed the door to his apartment, stumbling onto the sight that caused his stomach to drop, and his grip to loosen on the pastry bag.

“Were you ever gonna tell me?”

“Are you wearing my shirt?”

“That’s not the point, Spence.”

“Y/N-”

“Spencer Reid, I have sat here for years, so hopelessly in love with you and I had to find out from a fucking open journal that you feel the same? How is that fair?”

Spencer took a step back in shock, with his hands falling aimlessly to his sides. “You love me?”

“I mean even when you liked JJ I just sat there quietly because I knew that she was more important to you, but I wanted to scream every time I caught you look at her. And don’t even get me started on the whole Emily thing because I love JJ but I swear I’ve never wanted to slap her more for hurting you that way because of course I care about you Spence, how could have not known that-”

And while Spencer had been in love with them, and the way they talked with their hands when they rambled, he needed nothing more than to shut them up. He smiled as he pressed his lips against theirs, their mumbled words fading into sighs as their kiss continued. His arms wrapped sweetly around their middle, enjoying the familiarity of his shirt of their body and pulling their body further into his. He pulled back when they couldn’t breathe, and rested his head against theirs. “I love you, too, by the way.”

“How could you not tell me?” They smiled, happy to be breathing the same air as him. He chuckled, squeezing them affectionately.

“How could you not tell me? Y/N I just picked you up from a date.”

“Well, it was only an attempt to move on.” They laughed softly, combing their fingers through his curly mop. “How long, Spence?”

“Hmm?” His eyes had drifted closed, too peaceful to move.

“How long have we been loving each other from a distance, Spencer? How long have we both been pining over something we could have had this whole time?”

“I’ve been in love with you since you walked through the door.”

They giggled, looking into Spencer’s eyes. “Who knew you were such a sap. I expect you to let me read everything about me in that journal.”

He laughed, squeezing them tightening against his chest and pecking the side of their forehead. “You wish.”

[bagelbright-tok]

Take Me to Funkytown!

____   

Yellow Temperance proves to be a great enemy to Jotaro. Without much of an aid there to assist the teen, he hasn’t much of a choice but to fight for his life. After trying to burn and freeze temperance off of his finger, hope is lost. At least, until an odd individual dances their way into the fight. Ally or enemy? Temperance and Jotaro are unsure.

Jotaro x fem!Reader [Platonic One-shot]

Italics = the music

Word Count: 1,564 Warning(s): Violence, swearing, negligence, bit of social isolation, intense grooving, swearing again, gross horny man tries hitting on reader, I did not re-read __ Blame It on the Boogie! __

You were mostly just touring Singapore for your own personal reasons. You had nothing else to do and you got bored quickly. So, you packed your bags and left for Singapore. You had the essentials; clothes, personal hygiene products, and your Walkman cassette player and headphones. The flights over were smooth as could be. Not like you noticed much anyhow. Most of the time, you had your headphones on, listening to the several cassettes you also had brought in your bag. Since you’d left, you’d made 0 social interactions with other humans. That didn’t bother you in the least. You didn’t necessarily care much for making friends along the way. In fact, you dreaded when people would talk to you. They were annoying, quite frankly. So you would drown out the voices with your music. The only problem was that you would get sick of listening to the same songs over and over again. The perks of traveling were being able to try out new music from places around the world.

Your thoughts were mostly blank while you peered out of the train window at the city you were approaching. “Hey pretty lady~!”

A man’s voice quickly pierced the air around you. But you couldn’t hear him over your loud music. He noticed that quickly and took this as a sign to sit right next to you. “What’s a girl like you sitting all by yourself?”

You scooted away from him once you noticed he had sat next to you. Your smiling expression quickly turned into a frustrated one. You couldn’t hear the man, but his presence alone made you uncomfortable. You became infuriated when you felt his hand remove your headphones. “C’mon girl, don’t-”

You didn’t let him finish as you summoned your Stand, and sent it lunging at the man. Your Stand, Ace’s Wand, representing the tarot card Ace of Wands, was a Stand with the form that could vary depending on your mood and the sounds in the air. With you angry without music, your Stand took on a horrifying form that you could barely comprehend. The noises it made as well were scary. All you could see was the body of the annoying man getting flung like a ragdoll. His body was crumpled like a piece of paper on the other end of the train.

You scoffed, grabbed your headphones, and returned to your position. Your music continued and your site seeing went on. Everyone was scared and confused as they surrounded the man in concern. “Won’t you take me to Funkytown?” You bobbed your head to the beat while everyone whispered in a hushed and terrified tone.

***

The train ride turned into a cableway ride. You sat in a cable car with a man, his kid, and their dog. The kid happily snacked on his popsicle as he enjoyed the view from the car. You were doing the same, except you were listening to your music instead of snacking on a popsicle. Looking out the window, you noticed a guy on a cylindrical shaped building that was tall enough to reach the height of the cable car. It was an odd sight for sure, you even gave him a confused squint. You noticed his sights landing on your cable car. You blinked a couple of times. Your eyes quickly widened when you saw him back up, then charge forth towards your car.

“Oh shit!” You whispered loudly. The teen landed on the car and clutched to the side you had been viewing from. You noticed a purple figure emerge from him and rip the door off the car. Things only got weirder. The man peered at you, then turned his attention to the kid with the popsicle. 

“Hey kid, I am gonna need to use this.” The kid began to cry until the teen spoke again, “Alright, I’ll buy you a new popsicle when we reach the ground.”

The kid nodded, and the tall teen rose back to his height. Your headphones had been knocked off during the impact of the teen crashing into the car. You hardly noticed, even hearing the teen talk and hearing yourself talk. “Whoa! What an entrance! What the hell are you doing?” You blurted out.

“Is this your kid, lady?” The black haired teen asked.

“What? Hell no.”

“Then shut up and enjoy the view.”

Your brows furrowed at that statement. It was of annoyance, but then it turned into confusion when you noticed the yellow blob on the teen’s hand. Just what was going on? You could only ask this as the teen pressed the cold treat onto the yellow substance, wincing in pain in the process as the gross yellow jello spiked and stabbed into his hand. Things only escalated when another presence began to enter the cable car through the door that the teen had rudely ripped off. The presence was similar to the substance on the teenager’s hand, except larger and with another person inside.

“Can’t you get it through your thick skull?” The deep male voice spoke in a taunting manner that sent shivers down your own spine. “My Stand, Yellow Temperance, is indestructible! No matter how much power you may have, you cannot beat my Stand!”

Well shit. It means you’ve found yourself in a Stand battle. You found yourself even more infuriated than before on the train. The black haired teen referred to as Jotaro had ripped a pole from the car and tried to swing it at Yellow Temperance. It wasn't just Jotaro, though. It was his Stand, a large purple humanoid entity that was clearly fast and strong. Angered, you put on your headphones and stood up. It was as the Stand projected itself onto Jotaro and the cable car that things got weird.

Jotaro and the user of Yellow Temperance were now looking at you. Your expression was scrunched up and you could feel the heat rising. With the beat of your music, you had better control of your Stand. "Don't blame it on the sunshine!"

You moved with the rhythm and summoned your Stand without further comment. "Don't blame it on the moonlight."

"Holy shit!" Temperance's user yelled in horror as his eyes laid on your Stand. You could barely make that out with your music as loud as it is.

"What the hell!" Jotaro also exclaimed, but not as loud. Based on Temperance's reaction, it clued him in on the fact that you are clearly not with him. A relief, but also, you aren't with the Joestars.

"Don't blame it on the good times." Just as Temperance was about to latch onto you, you sent out your Stand first. "Blame it on the-!" "BOOGIE!" Your Stand screeched as it went up against the yellow Stand.

The enemy user only screamed as he witnessed your Stand vigorously and aggressively stabbing and digging through his sludge. Even while your Stand could make contact with his, it couldn't be said that the situation could be switched around. Your Stand's form was horrifying in itself, but the idea that his Stand with no weaknesses couldn't touch your Stand was just as terrifying. 

Jotaro realized the opportunity he had now. The enemy had even panicked and removed his Stand from Jotaro. He wasn't even paying attention to Jotaro anymore. You knew why. The fear was overwhelming. You are the greater threat at the moment to him. You bore your eyes into Jotaro, telling him to make his move if he wants it. Your Stand was slowly making its way closer and closer to the user with its claws. Just as your Stand was about to make it to the enemy, with him sobbing, Jotaro used his Stand's fist to punch the user and knock him unconscious. Your Ace's Wand stopped mere inches away from The Temperance card holder. Your Stand emitted a sickly wheeze of laughter before being de-manifested. You were still grooving to the song, though.

"This magic music grooves me! That dirty rhythm moves me! The devil's gotten to me through this dance!"

Jotaro was unsure of how to communicate with you. That uncertainty was cleared up, though, when you yourself removed your ear buds and spoke.

"Hey! Jotaro right?" You chuckled, pointing at him. Jotaro nodded, knowing you had caught his name in the fight. "That was pretty cool. We should do that again sometime."

"What?" Is all Jotaro could murmur in confusion as response to your suggestion.

"I'm [Y/N] [L/N]." Your pointing finger turned into an open palm hand to shake Jotaro's. "I'm a Stand user, too. Not like.." You looked down at the unconscious and shirtless man at your feet. "...him, though. I'm cool, like you."

Jotaro hated women who fawned over him. Most of the female students who crowded him referred to him as "cool," as well. Hearing you say it, though, was different. It wasn't of lust or love like those ladies at school. It was of genuine friendship and curiosity.

"That's.. Great." Jotaro said, extending his hand out and shaking yours. "Hey, I have a question…"

"Go ahead and shoot!" You shook his hand and returned yours to your side.

"Could you join us on our mission to Egypt?" Jotaro is well versed in being blunt and very straightforward. Not that you would know that.

You paused and processed what he had said. " "Our...?" Mission..? Egypt!?"

___

E N D.

A/N: AAAA! This has been sitting in my docs for sooo long! I had no idea where to take it and how to end it. Finally figured it out though! Apologies if it seems rushed or half-assed. This one is very similar to the In With A Bang one-shot. Introducing a character in that fashion. Also, In With A Bang has reached over 100 notes!! That's fuckin bonkers! Please go give it a read if you haven't! I promise it's better than this one, lol!

[dlwritings]

Not Prick | Tom Holland

masterlist found here

pairing - Tom x reader word count - 1,877 warnings - language A/N - for the anon who requested x

summary - A fan gets a little aggressive with Tom at the mall, and he takes it out on the wrong person. But he’s a good guy, and when he realizes his mistake, he’s determined to make up for it.

Tom was having a bad day. There was no rhyme or reason. He was just cranky and tired and wanted to be home. Instead, he was out at the mall with Harrison. Apparently his favorite store was having a sale, and Harrison wanted a new pair of shoes.

“Why don’t you just order them online?” Tom had asked as Harrison all but dragged him out of his apartment.

“I gotta try them on and make sure they look good,” the other argued. Tom rolled his eyes but agreed to go. Now, they were out, and Tom was regretting it.

By the time they got out of the store, they had been spotted by a bunch of fans. And Tom, being the nice guy he was, knew he had to stop and talk to them. He wasn’t going to be the guy who brushes off fans and looks ungrateful. So he painted on his camera-ready smile and chatted with the people in the crowd.

It didn’t take long for Tom to get a pounding headache. There were a lot of factors, he was sure. He was tired, he was cranky, and there were just way too many people around. Tom didn’t usually get anxiety attacks, but when he already wasn’t on his A-game, they kind of snuck up on him. Like now. He looked over at Harrison -who had fans of his own to meet- and locked eyes with him. Harrison could read the stress in his best friend’s eyes and started to try to come up with a way out of the situation.

“Alright, alright,” Harrison said with a light chuckle. “Tom and I have gotta head out. It was so lovely meeting you all.”

A few people whined and tried to protest, but Tom and Harrison just awkwardly laughed it off.

“What a dick,” Tom heard someone say. “We built his career, and he can’t even have the decency to stay for a picture?” She scoffed. “I swear, some celebrities have the biggest fucking egos. Ungrateful prick.”

Tom. Snapped.

He turned around and locked eyes with the girl who had spoken.

Only it wasn’t the girl who had spoken.

Your eyes grew wide when Tom stared at you, anger clear in his brown eyes. “I don’t have any obligation to stand here and talk to you,” he said. “I’m not ungrateful. I’m tired. I’m overwhelmed. I don’t always love leaving my house and getting followed by crowds of people. It’s not normal. I didn’t ask for this. So don’t say shit like I have a big ego when you can’t even begin to imagine what I go through when I step out my front door, alright?”

Tears came to your eyes immediately, and you had no idea what to say. The girl next to you -the one who had actually made the rude comments- was slowly backing away, afraid you would speak up in your defense. Instead, you just opened and closed your mouth a few times, then swallowed thickly. “I’m sorry,” you choked out. Tom just scoffed and rolled his eyes, and you turned and pushed your way past the crowd and to the nearest bathroom.

Your hands were shaking as you found a single-stall bathroom and locked it behind you, sinking to the floor and leaning your back against the door. You didn’t care that you were sitting on the floor of a mall bathroom. If you stood up for too much longer, you were afraid your legs would give out.

Shit, shit, not right now. Not like this. Not here. Not. Here.

You didn’t handle confrontation well. In fact, it was the number one trigger of your panic attacks. The first panic attack you ever remembered having was triggered by two boys from your high school getting in a screaming match in front of you. Their raised voices and angry eyes shook you, and you started crying. On the plus side, your anxiety attack stopped the boys from fighting because everyone was suddenly focusing on getting you to calm down and catch your breath.

So yeah. Confrontation of any kind was not your favorite.

You pulled your knees up to your chest and tried to focus on your breathing, but it was hard. You kept replaying the moment that had just happened in your head. Tom Holland -a legit famous person- just yelled at you in front of a crowd of people for something you didn’t even do. How many people filmed it? Was your favorite celebrity going to remember you as the bitch who called him an ungrateful dick? You weren’t the bitch who called him an ungrateful dick. Why couldn’t you just defend yourself? Why did you have to shut down like that?

Breathe, breathe. Don’t do this. Don’t. Do. This.

Harrison ushered Tom away from the group of fans, noticing his fists clench in anger as he watched the girl run off. “Wait, wait, Tom! Harrison!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Harrison mumbled. He turned to find a girl jogging after them. “Listen, we really-”

“No, I know, I know,” she said. “I just, that girl you yelled at?” She was looking at Tom. “She wasn’t the one who said that stuff.”

Guilt settled in Tom’s stomach. “What?” he said.

“I saw the girl who actually said that,” she said. “It wasn’t that girl. I don’t know either of them, but I just thought I should let you know. She seemed pretty shaken up, and I just-” She paused. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad or anything. I just didn’t want you thinking the wrong girl was being a bitch. It, it-” She stuttered, feeling foolish suddenly. “This probably doesn’t matter at all, and I should’ve just-”

“Did you see where she went?”

The girl furrowed her eyebrows at Tom’s question. “What?” she asked.

“The girl,” he said. “The one I yelled at? Did you see where she ran off to?”

“Uh, the bathroom I think,” she said. “The single stall down by Topman.”

Without any explanation, Tom jogged off in the direction of the bathroom in question. He heard Harrison calling after him, but he didn’t stop or turn around. When he got to the bathroom, he paused, his fist inches from the door. Was this necessary?

Yes. Mum raised a gentleman. You were a prick, and you need to own up to it.

You sat up a little straighter when there was a knock at the bathroom door. “Just a minute!” you called. You stood up and quickly went to the mirror to clean any mascara that might’ve slid down your cheeks. You flushed the toilet and pretended to wash your hands for good measure, then opened the door.

On the other side was none other than Tom Holland.

You felt a lump grow in your throat again as you hung your head and tried to brush past him. “Sorry,” you mumbled.

“Wait, wait,” he said, reaching out to grab your forearm. You stopped and looked at him. He looked stressed, and his eyes were sad. He looked like a completely different person from the man who yelled at you ten minutes ago. “I’m sorry,” he said, releasing his hold on your arm. “Someone told me you weren’t the one who said those things.” You pressed your lips into a tight line and looked down at your shoes. “Even if you were,” Tom continued, “I shouldn’t have snapped like that. I was out of line. I don’t usually snap like that. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you said, though your eyes were still trained on the floor.

Clearly, it wasn’t fine. Tom wasn’t dumb. He could see your slightly puffy eyes and the remains of mascara on your cheeks that you hadn’t quite been able to wipe away. He had done that, and that wasn’t okay. What had gotten into him?

“Do you like smoothies?”

This caused you to look up. “What?” you asked, your eyebrows furrowed.

“Do you like smoothies?” he repeated. “Harrison and I were going to grab some on our way home. Let me buy you one.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you said quickly, shaking your head.

“I want to,” he said. “Consider it an extended apology. And maybe proof that I’m not a prick.” A small smile crept up your lips, and the sight made Tom do the same.

“Okay,” you said. “That sounds nice.”

Tom nodded happily, and the two of you walked back over to where Harrison was standing and waiting. “So what’s your name?” Tom asked as the three of you walked to the parking garage.

“(Y/N),” you said.

“Well it’s nice to meet you,” he said.

You smiled. “You too.”

Tom bought you a smoothie and invited you to stay and hang out with him and Harrison. Of course, you obliged. The three of you sat on the patio of the smoothie shop and had your drinks, chatting and laughing like old friends. They were both really easy to talk to, and you were quickly forgetting about the whole ordeal at the mall. Tom clearly felt horribly, and you knew it was all just a misunderstanding. Plus, everyone was allowed to have bad days. Even celebrities. You couldn’t count the number of times you snapped at your friends or family because you were in a bad mood.

When you finished with your drinks, the boys offered to drive you home. You accepted, considering you had taken the bus to the mall. Maybe you were being naive, taking a ride from two boys you didn’t know, but you highly doubted you were going to get kidnapped by Tom Holland and Harrison Osterfield. Again, maybe you were being naive.

But you gave them directions to your apartment, and you arrived unscathed. “Let me walk you to your door,” Tom said.

“Okay,” you said. You smiled at Harrison. “It was nice to meet you.”

“You too,” he said back. Tom walked you to your door with his hands shoved in his pockets.

“So,” he said, “I just want to apologize again for what I said.”

“It’s really not a big deal,” you said. “I understand. You’re allowed the occasional bad day. And to be fair, what that girl said was really rude. I get why you-”

Tom cut you off by placing a sweet kiss to your cheek.

You blushed and put your hand where his lips had been. “What was that for?” you asked with a shy smile. Tom held back a smile of his own and shrugged.

“I just think you’re sweet,” he said. “And I liked spending the afternoon with you.”

You laughed lightly. “I liked spending the afternoon with you, too.”

“Could I get your number maybe?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah,” you said. “That’s okay.”

You switched phones and exchanged numbers. When he handed yours back to you, you laughed at the name he put: Not Prick

“You think you’ll remember that’s me?” he asked as you slid the phone in your pocket.

You nodded. “Impossible for me to forget.”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck again. “I’ll text you, then.”

“Okay,” you said. “Thanks again for the smoothie.”

“Of course,” he said. “Maybe next time it’ll be dinner.”

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

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[thatoneticklewriter]

Don’t Be Cruel

(Ler! Venti/ Lee! Xiao) Platonic

Summary: Venti has had enough of Xiao’s aloof attitude and decides to seek manners into his own hands.

“Ugh! I just hate that guy!” Venti squeals in frustration throwing away tonight’s dinner.

“Well, the almond tofu you made was disgusting.” Aether couldn’t help but make a face.

The bi color haired boy threw a small dinner party for Chongyun and his boyfriend Xiao. He spent days studying the different types recipes and ingredients of Almond tofu hoping to cook it right to Xiao’s taste. Though the raven thought otherwise spitting the food back onto the plate and dumping it in the trash can.

“But he didn’t have to be rude about it!” Venti snaps crossing his arms against his chest. “There were other times he was mean to me too! Like how he doesn’t wait for me whenever we get assigned to do missions together and how he sometimes shoves me whenever I’m in his way. I don’t get what Chongyun sees in that asshole.”

“I think you’re just overreacting, sweetie.” Aether smiles at his friend placing his hands on his shoulders.

“I want to get back at him so bad.” Venti clenches his fists pulling away from Aether’s grasps.

“That’s it!” The bi color haired boy shrieks as a light bulb flashes in his head. “I’m going to torture him! Yeah!”

“Um, you’re not going to actually hurt him right?” Aether gives the other a hopeful look.

“No, I’m just going to make him suffer in a way he hasn’t before.” Venti smirks holding his hands behind his back walking into his room to commence his plan.

Hey, can you get Xiao to wear that one outfit where it’s like he’s wearing overalls and a crop top? Venti texts Chongyun the following morning.

Why?????? The blunette responds a couple seconds later confused by the bi color haired boy’s intentions.

I just think he looks snazzy in it. Please! Venti makes up the quickest excuse without sounding like a complete idiot.

Fine, I will try. Is all the blunette texts back and Venti hopes Chongyun goes through with the plan.

The bi color haired boy runs across a certain unlucky friend in Mondstat.

“Hey Benny!” Venti smiles at the white haired boy.

“Oh hey!”

“So like you’re strong, aren’t you?” He questions raising an eyebrow at the other.

“Um sure, I think so? What do you need?” Bennett taps his chin glancing up at the sky.

“I need you to help me with something. All you have to do is hold my target down while I torture him.” An evil smirk crawls onto Venti’s face and Bennett backs away with horror.

“I can’t help commit a murder sorry.”

“No, no! It’s not the kind of job you think it is!” Venti grips Bennett’s wrists not wanting to lose sight of him.

“Can I at least have some more information?”

“I just want to tickle Xiao but you can’t tell anyone.” Venti holds a finger up to Bennett’s lips.

“Xiao? Why him? To be honest, I think he’s the hardest to break. He doesn’t smile at all and I doubt he knows how to laugh.” Bennett tilts his head like a dog not understanding Venti.

“Cause he’s an asshole that needs to be taught a lesson! Now are you going to help me or what?” The bi color haired boy impatiently taps his foot.

Bennett agrees to be of Venti’s service as they meet up with Xiao for their mission.

“Why are you here?” The raven stares up at Bennett with a sharp glare.

“Oh uh erm Venti asked me to tag along. In case any of you guys need healing.” Bennett chuckles rubbing his arm, hoping not to reveal too much of Venti’s plan.

“We don’t need your healing.” Xiao scoffs at the white haired boy before turning on his heel.

“I see what you mean now.” Bennett whispers to the other giving Xiao the side eye.

Venti couldn’t help but notice the bare skin on Xiao’s lower back as they walk behind him. He wondered how much the blunette begged for Xiao to wear the said outfit.

“When I say the time is right, I want you to tackle him.” Venti whispers to the white haired boy watching Xiao stroll far past ahead of them.

“I don’t want him to hurt me.” Bennett pouts at the bard.

“He won’t. I promise, just trust me.” Venti shakes his head catching up to the raven.

They find their designated group of Hilichurls they needed to defeat by a shipping port.

“You go first.” Xiao nudges Venti on the shoulder.

“Why me?” Venti cowers holding his arms above his head.

“So you can suck up all the enemies together while your weird friend and me will finish them.” The raven explains to the other and Venti lets out a sigh knowing he was right.

“Weird?” Benett raises an eyebrow at Xiao wondering what he did to deserve that title.

The bi color haired boy launches a wind current towards the oblivious hilichurls gathering them in a tornado. Both Bennett and Xiao Storm towards the enemies not even giving them a chance to stand or process what was happening.

“I think that’s the fastest we ever took down a mob.” Venti comments skipping towards the two boys.

“I’m out of here since the job is done.” Xiao holds up a hand strolling the other way.

“What!? No, you can’t go! Let’s hangout! The three of us.” Venti links arms with the raven and Xiao groans trying to get out of his grasp.

“I can think of a hundred reasons why we shouldn’t.” He sends Venti a cold look.

Now. Venti mouthed to the white haired boy and Bennett lunges at Xiao wrapping his arms around his waist as they tumble to the grass.

“Get off me! What is wrong with you?!” Xiao shouts underneath Bennett’s weight trying to shove him off.

“You’re gonna get a taste of your own medicine.” Venti giggles at the struggling raven before handcuffing his wrists and that was Bennett’s cue to let go of the other.

“You better tell me what’s going on or I’m going to rip your head off.” Xiao growls at the bard. If looks can kill, Venti would be dead by now.

“Just some cold revenge.” Venti cracks his knuckles slowly trailing his fingers along Xiao’s bare sides.

“Hey! Stop that!” The raven couldn’t help but crack a small smile flinching from Venti’s touch.

“Aww, does someone have sensitive sides?” The bi color haired boy teases playfully squeezing at Xiao’s waist.

An abrupt squeal escapes Xiao’s lips trying to face away from Venti though the bi color haired boy continues to tickle his bare sides.

“You should hold his legs so he doesn’t kick me.” Venti orders to Bennett as Xiao kept flailing his legs all over the place hoping to escape.

“Ow!” The white haired boy yelps falling onto his back after Xiao had struck him across the face with his boot. For such a small body, the raven had a powerful hit.

“Never mind! Hold his arms above his head.” Venti ordered glancing at the Bennett’s bloody nose and the white haired boy huffs under his breath.

“Let go of me!” The fiesty raven struggles under Bennett’s hold, even with handcuffs, the white haired boy can barely keep up with Xiao. They honestly needed another person for help.

Xiao’s aggressive twisting and turning comes to halt when the bi color haired boy digs his fingers into his bare armpits. With Bennett holding his arms, the poor raven was defenseless at this point. Xiao’s giggling and squealing fills the atmosphere and Venti didn’t know the stoic raven could make these kinds of sounds.

“Ahaha! Please stop!”

Venti scratches at a delicate patch of skin near Xiao’s hip bones making the raven cry.

“You’re gonna have to beg harder than that.” The bi color haired boy gives him a smug look shaking his head continuing to tease the flesh below his waist.

The raven was a laughing mess, too weak from laughter to pull away from Bennett.

“Don’t you think he’s had enough?” Bennett questions in between Xiao’s squeals watching Venti squeeze at Xiao’s lower ribs.

“We haven’t even gotten to the good part.” Venti rolls his eyes at the white haired boy and Bennet couldn’t help but feel sympathy for Xiao.

“No, no, please not there.” Xiao lets out a whine that makes Venti almost emit a wave of guiltiness. No, this is what he wants you to do.

“Wow, please two times in a row? Maybe you can be nice!” Venti jokes at the crying raven as his fingers reach dangerously close to the raven’s abdomen.

A shriek escapes from Xiao’s lips feeling Venti’s fingers flutter across his tummy and Bennett grows startle at Xiao’s vigorous writhing.

“Hold him.” Venti bosses at Bennett who almost lost grip of Xiao.

“Argh, he’s strong.” Bennett hisses doing his best to contain Xiao’s flails.

“I’ll be nice ahaha I promise.” Xiao wheezes in between laughter though Venti seems skeptical of the raven’s intentions.

“I’m not totally convinced yet. How do I know you’ll change once I let you go?” Venti raises an eyebrow before squeezing the sides of the raven’s tummy with his thumbs and Xiao squeals arching his back.

“I’ll change!” He fights back once again though Bennett was prepared to keep him still not wanting to make Venti furious.

“Hmmm, you’re not going to be mean to me anymore?” Venti playfully hums loving the reaction of Xiao begging and hollering when he dips a finger in his navel.

“I won’t! I swear!” Xiao whimpers as a tear rolls down his cheek.

Venti finally gets off of the raven letting Xiao catch his breath.

“Can you take this off me?” The raven quietly asks feeling embarrassed. “Please?”

“Why, certainly!” Venti giggles getting on his knees uncuffing Xiao.

“Sorry about your nose.” Xiao apologizes to Bennett refusing to look him in the eye.

“Oh it’s fine, it stopped bleeding.” Bennett smiles shaking the other off.

“Hey Xiao, you’re pretty cute when your smiling. I see why Chongyun likes you now.” Venti taunts the raven pondering how long this kind facade will last.

“Erm, thanks.” Is all the raven says as a small blush appears on his pale cheeks.

The boys part ways, Xiao going back to Wangshu inn and Venti and Bennett to Mondstat.

“Do you think he’ll stay that way?” Bennett curiously asks the bi color haired boy on the walk towards the city.

“Something tells me he will.” Venti throws his head back as a evil chuckle escapes his lips.

[checkurwindow]

ten ways

Book: Open Heart

Warning: So sweet your dentist would be concerned Rating: General Pairing: Bryce x F!MC Word count: 6500+ Author’s note: I finally wrote something that isn’t angst and oh god is it long. I spent so much time on this so please please consider reblogging and let me know what you thought of it, and maybe check out my masterlist while you’re at it.

1.

There was truly no better way to start off senior year than arriving late to her first class. 

In her defense, she had left the house early. For once in her life, she was actually going to be early to school. She was so proud of herself, and was so certain that she had extra time that she allowed herself to stop at a drive-thru and get a drink as a reward to herself. Everything was going according to plan. 

That is, until the lady in the car in front of her decided she wasn’t pleased with her order and made the barista redo it; and to make sure he didn’t mess up her order a second time, the barista was extra careful. And extra slow. 

She groaned as she watched the time tick pass minute by minute. Just her luck. 

She watched the barista hand the drink to the lady in front and breathed a sigh of relief. Yet, the car didn’t move, not a single inch. The drink was already in her hand, but the lady just had to continue to talk with the barista. 

She cursed under her breath and banged her head on the steering wheel in frustration. She must’ve been more aggressive than she was expecting, because her horn went off, and loudly at that.

She jumped back in shock at the noise. The lady poked her head out of her car window and immediately began lecturing her on how rude she was being. At least, that’s what she assumed she was saying, she really couldn’t hear her with her windows rolled up. She bit her lip, gave a little wave, and mouthed an apology.

Eventually, the lady finished her rant and left the drive-thru. She got her drink, no longer a reward and more of a consolation, and sped to school.

There weren’t any other students in the parking lot by the time she got there, only a reminder of just how late she was. Shoving all her things back inside her backpack, she locked the door and hurried into the building.

Of course, her first class just had to be with Mr. Anderson. Any other teacher would have just let her tardiness slide, but not him, never him. She opened the door to his classroom, and any conversation that had been going on stopped. 

More than a dozen pairs of eyes turned their attention to her, and she wanted to melt into the floor right then and there. 

“Nice of you to finally join us,” Mr. Anderson addressed her. He narrowed his eyes at the nervous student, leaning against his desk as he sized her up, “if you’re done being a distraction to my class, I’d appreciate it if you would take a seat.

She swallowed roughly and nodded. He went back to lecturing the class on how his classes would be conducted, and she did her best to find a seat as quietly as she could. Instinctively, she made her way over to where her friends were sitting.

Bryce moved his backpack off the desk next to him and quietly whispered, “I saved you a seat.” 

She gave him a grateful smile and mouthed back a ‘thanks’.

Sienna leaned forward, “Anderson really wasn’t amused with you, huh?”

“I swear he hates me,” she insisted.

Bryce rolled his eyes, “he doesn’t hate you, Boo.”

“Bryce is right,” she said, “everyone knows he just hates women,” she stressed the last part with exaggerated disgust.

2. 

Late-night study sessions had evolved to become code for hanging out at Danny’s house and messing around. 

Sienna was dating Danny, so naturally, she had become friends with him and his friends by association. Sienna, Aurora, and her were actually trying to study. Danny and Elijah were discussing the school football team’s chances of winning their next game, and Jackie and Bryce were in the kitchen getting snacks and undoubtedly bickering about something completely irrelevant. 

“Okay, Sienna,” Aurora held up a flashcard, “what can you tell me about the defenestration of Prague?” 

“Uh, people were thrown out of windows for fun?” She replied, barely having read that chapter of the textbook.

“No- well, actually, I suppose you’re technically not completely wrong.”

She let her body fall back against the back of the couch and closed her eyes. If she had to stay there any longer, she would’ve thrown herself out the window. 

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to hang out with her friends, it was just that after a long day of school, she wasn’t exactly thrilled to spend more time with the people she had already spent most of the day with. 

“Sorry I’m late, I just spent the better part of the last hour trying to explain to a group of freshmen that I won’t be dating or teaching “my ways” to any one of them,” he shuddered dramatically as he walked into the living room where everyone was.

“Ah yes, I almost forgot I was friends with the Bryce Lahela,” she said overdramatically.

He rolled his eyes but decided to amuse her nonetheless, “what can I say, I’m just clearly superior.”

She scoffed but refused to dignify him with any further response. Instead, she closed her eyes and pretended she was back at home under her warm, soft covers. 

“I brought you food.”

That caught her attention. Cautiously opening an eye to see if he was telling the truth, she was met with the sight of him holding up a bag of fast food that he must have picked up on his way over. She couldn’t help the growing smile on her face as she sat upright. 

“For me?” She asked.

“Of course, Munchkin” he handed the bag over to her, “you skipped lunch to finish up the science project you were behind on and I’m certain you haven’t gotten around to eating anything yet,” he said confidently.

She happily pulled an order of large fries out of the bag, “have I ever told you how amazing you are, Bryce?”

He smiled, “not often enough.”

“Well, you are. So amazing.”

She had just finished the fries and was looking through the back to see what else he had gotten her when Danny called out to her.

“What are your thoughts on Rafael?” He asked.

“Aveiro?”

“Yep.”

She tilted her head, “he’s okay, pretty cute. Why?”

“He told me he likes you, even wanted me to ask if you were single?” Danny said nonchalantly.

Sienna immediately got invested and joined in on the conversation, “she is very single, and I for one think they would be a great couple!”

She could feel her cheeks begin to heat up, and suddenly she found the hardwood floors very interesting, “I don’t know…he actually likes me?”

“That’s what he told me,” Danny replied, “can I give him your number?”

She weighed her options before giving a careless shrug, “Yeah, why not?” 

“You and Rafael? I knew this day would come,” Aurora commented.

“Okay, we’ve talked about this long enough. We need to study,” she insisted, pulling out her textbook.

“I’d rather not fail this test,” Bryce agreed.

Everyone begrudgingly went back to their previous activities, and Bryce took that opportunity to fill up the space next to her on the couch. She flipped through pages of her textbook before coming to a stop. She passed the textbook to Bryce and pointed to a large picture on the page.

“This one’s my favourite,” she said. 

“Wanderer above the Sea of Fog,” he read,  “you’re a fan of Caspar David Friedrich?”

She shrugged, “I guess I’m just a fan of the Romantic moment in general. Everything was so creative and beautiful. I just think it’s crazy how this painting holds so much emotion.”

Bryce frowned, looked at the painting, then back at her, “it certainly is romantic.”

She gave the painting one last look before she began flipping through the pages of the textbook again. Bryce watched her curiously as she read over the vocabulary words for that week. After a while, he decided to say what was on his mind. 

“So,” he broke the silence, “you and Rafael, huh?”

“Yeah,” suddenly, the furry carpet on the floor looked beyond interesting, “I used to have a crush on him in middle school, remember?”

His mouth broke out into a smile, “Sienna and I used to tease you about it all the time! No wonder you’re so bad at chemistry,” he joked. 

“I happen to be pretty extraordinary at chemistry, thank you very much.”

“Hm, I think that botched experiment that nearly killed Mrs. Durnam tells a very different story,” he said, and she playfully punched his arm. 

“She’s still alive, isn’t he? Plus, you were the one who didn’t make me double-check!”

He had an amused look on his face, “keep telling that to yourself, babe.”

3.

He was tired, the sheets were too hot. It had been a long day, his body was exhausted. The air in his bedroom was too cold, his mind was tired, too. If he would just close his eyes and stop thinking, he’d be asleep in mere minutes. Now the sheets were hot again, so he kicked them off. Then the air was too cold, so he pulled the sheets over him again. Not thinking ironically proved to be harder than perceived. Go then if you must, but remember, no matter how fooli- damn it, Sophocles, damn your terribly beautiful words.

Bryce threw the covers onto the other side of the bed and sat up. He wasn’t going to get much sleep that night no matter how hard he tried, anyway, no need to lie to himself. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, if there even had been any sleep in the first place.

There was no doubt that he was tired both mentally and physically. But emotionally? His heart was eternally restless when it came that. He crossed his room and sat down at the expensive wooden desk, fully accepting that getting any rest that night was no longer a viable option.

The bright light from his computer was a harsh contrast to the darkness of the room, but his eyes adjusted soon enough. Bryce didn’t even know what he was doing on his computer in the middle of the night. 

But his subconscious knew. His fingers opened up the application and started scrolling. No, no, yes. God, no. yes, definitely, perfect. And that went on for an hour or so, though Bryce wasn’t exactly keeping track of time. He’d be near-dead at sunrise, but he wasn’t going to get any sleep until he finished. 

When he actually did finish, he smiled contentedly to himself. A wave of calmness washed over him, and before he knew it, he was face down and lost in his dreams asleep.

He looked terrible the next morning. Well, as terrible as Bryce Lahela could look. He still dressed as great as always, even styling his hair with a little more volume than usual. He was still sharp as ever in class, but anyone who really knew him could tell that he was a total mess. 

“Hey, you okay?” She asked during lunch in Mr. Jericho’s classroom (He had been kind enough to let a bunch of teenagers spend lunch in his class; the cafeteria just wasn't cool enough for them).

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine.”

She cocked her head to one side, “no you aren’t, spill.”

“Don’t worry about me. I actually have a little something for you,” Bryce fished his phone out of his pocket.

“You have something for me?”

“Sending it now. Aaaand…...check your phone!”

She raised an eyebrow and cautiously unlocked her phone to look at the text he had sent to her.

“Sophocles and Serotonin,” she read off her phone, “ what is this?” 

“I made you a playlist of songs that I thought you’d like.”

“Seriously?” A smile emerged on her lips, and Bryce couldn’t help himself but to reflect it, “When did you even have the time for this?”

He shrugged nonchalantly, “I happened to have free time last night.”

“With Mr. Anderson's early deadlines? I smell a steaming hot pile of bullshit, Lahela,” She looked up at him, a teasing lilt prominent in her tone, “I appreciate the playlist even more now that I know you took the time out of your night to make it. Thank you, Bryce.”

She leaned forward on the desk she was seated on and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He froze like a deer in headlights, and if she noticed, she definitely didn’t say anything. He compiled himself back together before she could notice that his usual smirk wasn’t as smug as it usually was, and leaned back against the desk behind him in an attempt to look cool. 

“So, what’re you doing after school?” He asked in his best casual voice. 

“Rafael and I are going to see a movie.”

“That’s actually still a thing?”

She shot him a look that made him raise his hands up in surrender, “Yes, it’s still a thing. He’s a good guy, I really like him.” 

“But is he good enough for you?” He crossed his arms, eyes not leaving hers. It wasn’t that Bryce didn’t like Rafael. Rafael was great, but no guy would ever be good enough for his best friend. 

“He is,” She said with an eye roll, “why do you care anyway?”

“Just looking out for you, Sweetheart.”

“I can take care of myself perfectly fine, Scout.”

His eyebrows shot up his forehead, an impressed look across his face, “trust me, I know.”

4. 

Summer felt like an eternity ago, when in reality, it had been less than two months ago The yellow-orange leaves and updated Starbucks menu was enough to convince anyone that it was already October. 

It took a lot of sweet-talking and a tiny bit of bribery to convince Bryce to attend the Homecoming football game, but with Sienna’s assistance, she eventually got him to cave. She wanted him there, but more importantly, she wanted him to give her a ride there. 

Of course, she could have taken her own car, but she would much rather not waste her own gas when she could take advantage of his instead. It wasn’t like it mattered to him, his parents paid for his car, insurance, and gas anyway. Plus, the seat warming function in his cushy Mercedes Benz was a huge incentive.

She spent most of the ride over to the stadium raving over the seat warmers, and he spent most of the ride making fun of how obsessed she was with said seat warmer. Eventually, they parked outside and paid for the entrance fees. 

“It’s kinda co-” before she could even finish her sentence remarking the cold weather, Bryce handed her a comfy looking (and feeling) sweatshirt. She looked down at the maroon sweatshirt, then back at him, her mouth slightly ajar, “You brought an extra sweatshirt for me? I didn’t even ask.”

“You didn’t need to,” he shrugged. 

She put on the sweatshirt and stared at him with wide eyes. Bryce glanced at her, bit the inside of his lip, then shook his head, “Don’t go thinking I care about you or anything now, Lovey. I couldn’t have you taking the sweatshirt I’m wearing, then I’d freeze up. 

She looked up at him with a smug grin on her face that made him regret bringing her the sweatshirt in the first place, “Yeah? Is that really all it was?”

“Yes, that’s all, Sunshine,” he did his best to act all annoyed by her questioning, but instead found it endearing in the end. 

It took him a moment, but eventually, he came up with a half-decent excuse, “besides, you know my grandma would kill me if she knew I let you freeze. I swear, sometimes it seems like she loves you more than she loves me.”

“That’s because she does,” she pointed it out like it was the only possibility, “can you blame her? I’m funny and adorable. You’re just a grumpy old man that I had to drag to this game.”

“That’s it. Take the sweatshirt off, I hope you freeze,” he said with the dirtiest look he could muster and she had the audacity to throw her head back and laugh.

She reached into her bag, and after digging around, she pulled a five-dollar bill out of her wallet. Thrusting the money into Bryce’s hand and pushing him in the direction of the concession stand, “here, go get some popcorn for us. Maybe then you won’t be so irritable once you get some food in you, I’ll find us some good seats.’

Bryce grumbled something about “you’re irritable” but nonetheless ventured off towards the concession stand. 

She climbed the steps up the stadium and immediately found Sienna and Danny sitting in the student section, all decked out in their school colours and face paint. Sienna greeted her with a warm hug. 

Pulling back, Sienna took note of what she was wearing, “is that Bryce’s?”

She looked down at the Stanford sweatshirt she had wrapped around herself, “Oh yes, it’s pretty comfortable, actually.”

Sienna pursed her lips and mulled over the new information, “What’s going on between the two of you?”

“What do you mean? We’re friends,” she shrugged.

“And Bryce knows that?” She paused, “Do you know that?”

She narrowed her eyes at Sienna, “Yes, of course I know that. I’m dating Rafael now, okay? Bryce and I have always just been friends, and that's all we’ll ever be.” Sienna nodded her head, “Okay, okay. If you say so, I believe you. I just don’t want anyone to get hurt, I care about both of you.”

“There aren’t any feelings between Bryce and I, don’t worry,” she said, but those words didn’t leave her mind for the rest of the night.

5. 

Bryce had spent a significant amount of the week dreaming about the coffee and cookie dough ice cream that was waiting for him in the freezer.

It was his favourite flavour, and there was just enough left in the carton for one last bowl of that sweet sweet goodness of a food. He had promised himself that he wouldn’t eat the last of it until he really deserved to. After spending his afternoon being productive and studying for the test he had tomorrow, he decided that he finally earned that delectable bowl of unhealthy but utterly delicious caramel-colored ice cream. 

He made his way down to the kitchen, humming an upbeat tune and sliding across the smooth marble floor in his most comfortable pair of socks. Bryce had made it all the way to the freezer, barely moments away from the compartment holding his currently most prized possession when a hasty knock at the front door stopped him in his tracks.

He paused. He was oh so close to getting to his ice cream; maybe it was just a delivery? He debated answering the door or ignoring it and getting the ice cream first. He was starting to lean towards just going for his bowl of ice cream when there was a knock at the door again. With a scowl on his face, he abandoned the freezer and any hope for happiness he had left and made his way to the front door.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” He said in surprise when he saw who was standing at her doorstep.

“I didn’t know who else to go to. Sienna’s out with Danny, and Aurora and Jackie aren’t good in situations like this,” she spoke quietly and sniffled in between sentences, trying not to let any more tears fall down her cheek, “sorry, I just-”

He interrupted her by pulling her into the darkening sky and into his house and arms. She melted into his touch and gripped his shirt tightly as she hugged him back. 

“What happened?” he asked softly, rubbing circles into her back with his thumbs.

“Rafael and I broke up.”

Bryce sighed softly and rested his chin on her head. He bit his lip and weighed the options in front of him, before he came to a reluctant conclusion. He pulled away just enough so that he could look her in her teary bloodshot eyes.

“I think this is the part where we break out the ice cream.”

She offered him a slightly trembling smile, “ice cream couldn’t hurt.”

He led her to the kitchen and began digging through the freezer while she hopped onto the counter beside him. He hid a frown from her while in the process of pulling the nearly empty carton of coffee and cookie dough ice cream out of the freezer.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” Bryce asked, retrieving a bowl from one of the cabinets.

“It wasn’t even a bad break up,” Despite her words, she still wiped at her tears using the sleeves of her shirt, “we mutually agreed that it was best for both of us.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded, “he’s just...not the one, I guess.”

Bryce felt something twist and turn in his stomach, and he knew it wasn’t right to be happy when his friend was so miserable, but he was anyway. He did his best to hide the smile that wanted to form at the corners of his mouth, “I’m sorry, Cupcake.”

She laughed, “Cupcake?”

He rolled his eyes, but the grin on his face remained, “I’m trying something new, okay? Running out of nicknames.”

She couldn’t help but match his infectious smile, “you’re not gonna have any ice cream?” she asked as he passed her the bowl.

“Nah, not in the mood for it,” he lied.

6. 

“Did you get enough sleep last night, Hon?” She was already in mid-yawn when he had asked the question.

She held a hand over her mouth and nodded, “yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

“You look terrible.”

She scowled at him, “wow, just what a girl wants to hear. Anyone ever tell you you’re one hell of a charmer, Lahela?”

“You’d be surprised, actually,” he gave her a teasing smile, “so who’s the cause for your sleepless night?”

“Napoleon Bonaparte.” She made an emphasis on the textbook in her hands, “Why’d I ever let you convince me to take an AP class with you?”

“Because you so desperately enjoy spending time with me?”

“Nah, that’s not it.”

“Ouch,” Bryce held a hand over his heart, “you really stayed up late studying for the quiz?”

“Some people have to study, okay? Not everyone is as gifted as Bryce flippin’ Lahela.”

“Flippin’? Really?” He stifled a laugh.

“We’re at school, gotta keep it PG,” she shrugged, “so yeah, I stay up and study sometimes. High schoolers aren’t supposed to get a normal amount of sleep, it’s not a big deal.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes I worry about you.”

She tilted her head to the side and gave him a small smile, “you don’t need to worry about me, Bry.” 

“Believe me, if I could just shut it off, I would. Look, I’ll make you a stack of flashcards next time so you can get more sleep.”

She was about to say something in response when her phone rang in her pocket, “I should get this.”

She went out into the hallway to answer the call, and Bryce turned back to his lunch, not even bothering to hide his growing smile. 

“Bryce.”

He jumped at the sound of a voice and turned to see Sienna sitting at the desk across from him. Had she been listening to them the whole time? He had completely forgotten she was there; a fact he certainly wasn’t about to share with her. 

“Yes, Sienna?”

“Do you have a crush on her?”

Bryce blinked a few times, certain that he hadn’t heard Sienna right, “Excuse me?

Sienna rolled her eyes, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “You heard me right. I’m not blind, Bryce. I see the way you look at her when you think no one is focusing. Do you have a crush on her?”

“That’s ridiculous, where’d you even get the idea from?”” He made a face like he was disgusted by the very thought of it. 

“Oh, I dunno, you just do whatever it takes to make her happy. Not to mention that you have a different pet name for her every time I see you two, seems pretty affectionate to me, Bryce.” She did always have a talent for laying out the facts.

“We’ve been friends since before I could remember, of course I care about her. And so what if I have a nickname for her? It doesn’t mean anything.”

“It’s not like you have a nickname for anyone else.”

“I call you...Si...all the time,” he paused to rethink what he just said, “I have a nickname for everyone.” 

“We both know that’s a load of B.S, are you really telling me that you don’t like her?”

“I don’t like her,” and it wasn’t an exact lie, because the feelings he had for her had progressed far beyond liking. 

7. 

“There’s nothing people appreciate more than a hand-made gift, right?” She said and pulled out a ball of azure coloured yarn.

Bryce crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against a wall, “Sure, except maybe a nice Rolex or a new car.”

She gave him a look, “I don’t know what it is about me that makes you think I can afford a Rolex or a new car. I’m an unemployed high school student, my only income comes in the form of birthday cards from my grandparents.”

“Well, I’m sure Sienna will love the scarf you make for her.”

“Yeah, how hard could it be?” She muttered and stared blankly at the mess of strings in her lap.

His eyes widened a little, “Wait, you’re telling me you’ve never crocheted before?”

“I'll get the hang of it soon enough,” she pulled up a beginners guide on YouTube, and five minutes later, she had a knotted pile of yarn in her hands. She huffed in frustration and began to aggressively pull at the yarn.

“Let me help you.”

“You? Know how to knit?” She raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. 

Bryce rolled his eyes, sitting next to her and taking the “scarf” out of her hands, “This is crocheting. You don’t even use knitting needles”

“Apologies. And how do you even know how to crochet?” 

“I may or may not have taken lessons a couple summers back to impress Alisson Rivers?” He admitted, quickly untangling her “progress” and began to expertly thread the loops of yarn together. He held up his work to her once a pattern had begun to form, “being incredibly sexy has its perks,” he jokingly winked at her. 

“I hate that you’re good at everything.”

He snorted and gently began to move the work into her hands for her to finish the rest, “Not everything, maybe just most things.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,”  She waved him off, now laser-focused on the project in front of her and determined to get it right that time. Bryce gave her tips and advice every once in a while, but for the most part, he let her work on it by herself. She was a fast learner. 

“Sweethea-” Bryce cut himself off, remembering the conversation he had with Sienna earlier. He cleared his throat, “you’re never gonna get it like that.”

She looked up at him with furrowed brows, “What?” He swallowed roughly and shook his head, “It’s nothing. Just...you’re going to wanna pull the yarn a little tighter or it’s all going to unravel before you’re even finished.”

“Oh,” She gave him a thankful smile, “thanks, Bryce.”

8.

It was almost 2 in the morning, and she knew that getting any more than four of sleep was out of the equation at that point. She wasn’t exactly trying very hard to sleep. She had tried to refresh her Instagram feed maybe two dozen times now, but it wasn’t as if anyone was going to post in the middle of the night. And even so, Instagram was doing a fairly poor job at keeping her mind distracted. 

Sighing out in frustration, she threw her body back onto her bed with a loud sigh. She wrinkled her nose and finally caved in to her temptations, navigating to the facetime app on her phone. Hesitating one last time, she tapped his contact with her thumb. The phone began to hum as she waited for him to pick up. 

“Hey, Bry. I know it’s late,” she said when he finally answered the phone. She frowned when he realised he was still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, “sorry, did I wake you up?”

“No, no. I couldn’t sleep anyway,” replied his groggy and raspy voice. 

“I know you’re lying, Bryce. Don’t worry about it, go back to sleep”

“I was already up.”

“No, you weren’t. It’s really fine, don’t let me bother you.

He stopped rubbing his eyes and looked at her firmly through the camera, “Maybe I was asleep, but I’m up now, aren’t I? Don’t worry about waking me up. Besides, I’d much rather be talking to you.’

She pursed her lips, giving him a doubtful look. He was too polite to ever tell her if she was bothering him. She couldn’t tell if he genuinely wanted to talk to her, or if he was too courteous to tell her otherwise.

He noticed the look she gave him, “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you don’t believe me. I would’ve stopped being friends with you years ago if I didn’t find all your annoying habits endearing as hell. I promise,” he shot her a smug smile that almost made her wish she hadn’t called him up. 

“How kind of you,” she said sarcastically.

“I try,” his grin widened, if that were even possible, “so what did you want to talk to me about?” 

She chewed on her bottom lip and shrugged, “I dunno.”

“You don’t?” Bryce narrowed his eyes and leaned closer to the camera. After he had examined her carefully, he leaned back and crossed his arms, “Yeah you do. What is it?”

She shifted uncomfortably by how easy it was for him to see right through her. Once more that night, she caved, “Earlier, when you told me to tighten the yarn. You stopped yourself from calling me ‘sweetheart’.”

He tensed, but she didn’t notice, “I mean, what’s so unusual about that? That's a perfectly normal thing for someone to do.”

“I know,” she nodded, “but you always call me some cheesy pet name. Always. So, did something happen? Are you mad at me?”

He raised an eyebrow and shook his head, “No, of course not. Everything’s fine,” he paused, “that really upset you?”

“It’s just that you’ve always had a nickname for me, I guess I got used to it.”

He laughed through his nose and couldn’t stop the amused smile from spreading across his lips, “Okay, Boo.”

9. 

“Am I finally going to get to see your mural?”

Bryce rolled his eyes, “It isn’t my mural, Love. It’s the senior mural, it’s not like I’m painting it.”

“Yeah, but it was your idea,” she gave him a playful nudge, “I don’t know why you haven’t told me what it is yet. I’m sure if the amazing Bryce Lahela designed it, it’ll be the best senior mural this school has ever seen. 

“Don’t get your hopes up, Babe. I’d hate to disappoint you.”

“You could never disappoint me,” she said matter-of-factly, “you’re Bryce Lahela.”

They turned the corner to see their fellow senior, Kyra Santana, working on the mural. The previously beige wall was now covered in black, gray, and light blue paint. In the middle of the painting was a figure made up of colourful handprints standing above the blue-gray ocean in front of them. 

She stared at the mural with an open mouth. She glanced from Kyra, to Bryce, then back to the artwork in front of her.

“It was my idea to make the figure all colourful with the handprints,” Bryce said, “I thought it would be nice to let our class literally leave a mark on this school.”

Kyra smiled at the mural and set her paintbrush down, “I was a great idea, the splash of colour is just what it needed,” she turned to her, “what do you think?”

“Like it? No, I...I love it, it’s perfect,” she turned to Bryce with wide eyes, “Wanderer above the Sea of Fog, this is my favourite painting.”

“I noticed--don’t give me that look. It’s not like I care that much, you just never shut up about this painting. It’s annoying, really,” he muttered, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck and looking down at his shoes.

She smiled and turned her attention back to the mural, “I can’t even begin to tell you how much I love this. I can’t believe you remembered.”

“Of course. It’s worth it, seeing how much you like it.”

There was a beat of silence.

“You’re the kind of person I could fall in love with, you know that?” She didn’t take her eyes off the wall that the mural proudly sat on, and Bryce was glad.

Maybe if she had looked at him, she would have seen his breath catch in his throat and his eyes widen just a little bit. If he was the kind of person she could fall in love with, then why didn’t she? Bryce was flustered, and if she had noticed his lack of response, she didn’t mention it.

10.

Their high school was filled with rich kids. Their high school also had a debate team with a minimal number of members. These factors resulted in Bryce and her having their own separate hotel rooms when they attended a debate function in Washington D.C.

After a long day of debating and watching other teams debate, she and Bryce walked side by side down the narrow corridor to their respective rooms. Every now and then, they sneaked looks at each other when they thought the other wouldn’t notice.

Bryce cleared his throat, “So that guy in the blue shirt asked me for your number.”

She glanced up at him, “He did? Did you give it to him?”

“No.”

“What? Why not?”

“Thought he was out of your league. I told him you snored like an ogre and gave him Jackie’s number instead,” he said with a careless shrug.

She gasped and shoved his shoulder, “Are you kidding me? You know I don’t snore, he was cute and interested in me!”

“Can’t imagine why.”

She scowled, “For your information, I’m adorable. I’m funny, enjoyable to be around, and have a high tolerance for assholes who shut down opportunities for their friends. And I’m extremely attractive, which is an added plus.”

“You don’t need to sell me on reasons why you’re dateable,” he chuckled softly.

“Oh yeah?”

At that very moment, they turned to face each other. Their teasing banter stopped when they realised that they were only inches apart, able to hear every inhale and exhale of the other. His gaze flickered down to her lips, and it was only for a second, but she hadn’t missed a single bit of it. 

Bryce took a step back and cleared his throat, standing rather uncomfortably, “It’s late, we should go to bed. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” she echoed before they both hurriedly turned around and stepped into their own rooms.

Had he almost kissed her? Did that really just happen? Her mind wandered as she leaned against her hotel room door. 

Maybe she had just imagined it. She shook the thought out of her head and grabbed a sweatshirt along with a pair of shorts out of her suitcase. Maybe she would stop thinking about it after a good night's rest. She changed, brushed her teeth, and was about to turn the lights off when she felt that nagging feeling bubble up in the pits of her stomach once more.

It was naive to think her mind would stop racing that night if she didn’t confront Bryce about it. She set the covers that were in her hands down and made her way out into the fluorescent-lit hallway. She had made it all the way to his door when she stopped herself. 

Was that really what she wanted to do? If she brought up their almost-kiss, would they ever be able to go back to being friends? Did she even want them to go back to being just friends? She bit her lip and glanced back at her own room door. She should’ve just gone to bed, it wasn’t worth putting their entire friendship on the line. But then again, she would always wonder what could have happened if she never followed her gut.

She raised her fist to knock on his door, but before she could make contact, the door swung open. They once more stood face to face, their wide-eyed expressions mirroring each other. For a moment in time, all that stood between them were the accelerated heartbeat and the flutters they felt for one another. 

Bryce’s arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer to him. Her hand had found its place on the back of his neck and guided his lips to hers. His eyes were half-open, sneaking glances at her to assure himself that he wasn’t dreaming. Her overwhelming scent and the feeling of his hands threaded through her hair were all too real.

He pulled her into his room, kicking the closed door behind him. Placing both hands on his broad chest, she pushed him back onto the bed and climbed on top of him, straddling his hips.

Thoughts were racing in her mind. She tried to put reason to the way he gripped her waist so tightly that there were sure to be bruises there the very next day. She tried to put reason to the way his pupils dilated as she went in for another kiss; she came up empty-handed. 

There was no way she felt the same, Bryce told himself. There was no way that she loved him the way he loved her. For as long as he could remember, he had been in love with her, and for as long as he could remember, she had only seen him as her friend.

He missed the warmth of her lips when she pulled away, but he couldn’t help but admire the way her lips were slightly swollen and her hair was a mess. Her eyes were mesmerising, and the way the light highlighted the softness of her skin made him fall even more. He took that moment to memorise every line and curve of her face, forever branding that memory into his head. 

She leaned in to kiss him again, but he pushed her away this time and sat up, “Stop. we...we can’t do this.  This can’t just be a one-time thing.”

“What?”

He felt his heart twist inside his chest and he clenched his jaw, “Because I love you.”

Her lips curled up in a smile, “I love you too.”

[nalgenewhore]

Too Late To Turn Back Now - Five

masterlist - ao3 - last chapter - next chapter 

an: everything will be fine! i promise, just to preface, that everything will be a-ok 😊

+*+*+*+*+*+*

The day was half over already as Lorcan lounged around in Sadirah’s garden with his sisters, him and Aneha doing their best to distract the youngest sister as she worked her garden, muttering in Ozuye about how they were both clod-footed brutes that would ruin all her hard work.

They just laughed and continued on with their shenanigans, sneaking the weeds she pulled from the soil into her hair and flicking dirt across her face. Sadirah had always been the calmest of the siblings, always there to soothe hurt feelings and calm worked-up emotions so no one was surprised that she didn’t react, merely stared at them with a patient look. 

As far as things go, they all got on well, hardly ever fighting. With everyone having their own interest, there was no need to clash or compete to be the best. Sadirah was inclined to gardening and painting – most of the paintings in the house had been done by her, while Aneha was exceptional at music, specifically piano, and had a voice that could make the gods themselves weep. 

Eventually, it became clear that Sadirah wouldn’t crack so Lorcan and Aneha gave up, choosing to lie on the soft grass beside the patch of sweetgrass and white sage, the fragrant air soothing all his worries for now.

The gate opened and Lorcan cracked an eye open, thinking it was his mother, but no. It was Maeve. His sisters remained oblivious as Aneha braided flowers into his hair and Sadirah harvested sage and sweetgrass to dry in bundles and braids. Lorcan sat up, already nudging Aneha behind him as Maeve curled her lip at her great-nieces and nephew. “Lorcan. I need to speak with you.”

Sadirah froze and glanced over her shoulder, wrapping an arm around Aneha as she moved over to her side. Lorcan sighed and stood, leaning down to kiss their heads before stalking out of the garden, leaving his sister’s handiwork alone even as Maeve gave it a disapproving look. She had never liked his hair, but Lorcan refused to cut it, it would go against his faith and people.

“What is it,” he asked once they were out of earshot from the garden.

His great-aunt sighed and picked at her nails, “How long will this continue?”

“What are you talking about.”

“You’ve been in Doranelle long enough. It’s time to come back home so I can show you how to run the business. You’re just a secretary.”

Lorcan curled his hands into fists and his nostrils flared in anger. “I have a law degree, Maeve. Articling is something every law graduate is required to do.”

“And you’ve had your fun. But the family needs you back home. There is no one for me to pass on my business—”

“I swear to the fucking Creator, don’t tell me that bullshit again. You were an investor, and your investment was paid in full a decade ago. Mom is the one who sacrificed everything for her empire and you have yet to release it. You know nothing about how to run the businesses, and I have no interest. Do you understand that I’m a lawyer? Like, I graduated law school. Like the way Elide is a lawyer.”

Maeve’s eyes flashed dangerously and Lorcan knew he would come to regret the words, but in the moment, he couldn’t seem to find it in himself to care. “That woman is no more fit to be a lawyer than you are. She—”

“Insult Elide to my face and we’ll see how that goes, Auntie.”

“She is handicapped—”

“The fuck did I just say? If you want me home, talk to me fairly and speak with your chest.  Elide has worked harder than anyone I know to get to where she is, not that you would understand that. I have half a mind to uninvite you to the wedding, but I won’t. Stay away from my family, Maeve,” he spat. Lorcan looked her  up and down with a disgusted expression and shook his head, scoffing as he stormed away, too angry to begin thinking of the consequences.

 +*+*+*+*+*+*

Elide had just come out of the house from the quiet greenhouse when she’d heard terse voices arguing around the corner. Not wanting to interrupt anything, Elide stayed still, close enough to hear everything Lorcan had said. Something in her chest had tightened to hear Maeve insult her like that and then to have Lorcan defend her like that.

She waited another minute before walking out, leveling Maeve with a cold stare as she moved to follow Lorcan.

Only, she couldn’t find him and settled on leaving him alone to cool off. Elide sat on a bench overlooking an ocean cove and opened her book again, wrapping her cardigan further around her without taking her eyes off the page.

Fifteen minutes later, someone cleared their throat and she looked up, seeing Vaughan standing a few metres away. “Oh. Hello, Vaughan.”

“Hi, Elide. I’m sorry that we weren’t more accommodating yesterday. I was wondering if you’d like to go on a quick hike – a forest walk, really.”

Elide internalized her hesitation and nodded, “Sure.”

Vaughan nodded once and they were off, strolling along the cliff’s edge until they reached the trees. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

The man shrugged, “I’d like to get to know you better. Lorcan and I grew up together.”

Elide nodded, “Aelin told me you were cousins. Did you two grow up here?”

He barked a laugh and shook his head, “Oh, lords above, no. No, um, my parents weren’t… the best of parents and Odette took me in as a toddler so I consider her to be my mom and she sees me as a son. We lived on the Ozuye reserve on the mainland. Did Lorcan not tell you?”

She shook her head, the sun flickering through the canopy of pine trees, “No, he doesn’t talk about his childhood often.”

“Ah, well. His father was abusive and hit us all regularly. Lorcan suffered the worst of it,” his voice hitched and he cleared his throat before continuing, “I was smaller than him, so he would take my beatings and he could never stay in place while watching our mother be hurt.”

Elide’s heart clenched and she found herself saying slowly: “My guardian beat me.”

“They did?”

She swallowed past her tight throat. She had never been more keenly aware of her ankle right now. “My uncle. My parents died when I was young and he was given full custody.” The words died on the tip of her tongue and she couldn’t share with him the story of her ankle, not now, not with Vaughan. “What happened to the father?”

“He left after Odette got pregnant with the girls. Never saw or heard from him again. Odette began her first business and then the next and soon enough we were moving.”

They fell quiet and walked in an eerie silence that Vaughan eventually broke. “I’ve never seen Lorcan with anyone other than Essar, so I’m sorry if any of us are being rude. How the two of you act is very different. We all thought he would marry her one day.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh. He even proposed.”

“He did?”

“Yeah, but she said no. They were young and they thought they were in love. Essar just knew she wasn’t ready and couldn’t stay with him. So, they broke up a week before they left for college and hardly ever spoke again.”

“Oh. That’s…” Elide trailed off as the path took them to yet another cliff, the water blue and sparkling ten metres below. “It’s beautiful here.”

“We used to come up here and cliff jump all the time.”

Elide’s eyes widened and she peered over the edge, a shiver running through her at the menacing rocks that appeared beneath the surface and the waves that slammed themselves against the rock face. “How did you not die?”

Vaughan laughed, “Run and shoot for distance. Maybe throw up a prayer beforehand.”

Elide chuckled and they sat on the edge, watching a pod of orcas circling a rock island, hunting for food. Eagles circled above in the sky and swooped in to clean off whatever the killer whales had left after the frenzy.

Vaughan stood and helped her up, “I should probably get you back. Wouldn’t want to worry your betrothed.” He winked and smirked as she attempted to smile, hating the guilt coiling in her gut.

When they got back, they found Lorcan at the woodpile, wearing a precariously cut tank top as he aggressively chopped wood, earbuds in. Vaughan made a face, “I’ll let you handle that.”

Elide laughed, “So gracious.” With a little salute, Vaughan sauntered off and Elide turned back to Lorcan who hadn’t even noticed anyone. His long hair was twisted in a loose braid and with every fall of the axe, a flower fell from it. Elide was transfixed by the sight, a filling warmth pooling low in her belly as she watched the cotton material of his top stick to his chest, enjoying the sight far too much.

She was a busy woman and hardly had time for that but when Lorcan looked like… a god, she couldn’t help but entertain the idea before she felt her cheeks flush and she quickly walked away from the scene.

Elide wasn’t blind or stupid either, obviously she’d seen how good he looked over the past two years. It’s not your fault, she told herself, he wears all those… fitted suits and likes to roll up the sleeves of his shirts and he has all those tattoos…  honestly, fuck him for having sexy forearms.

Her cheeks were still bright red as she slipped into their room, walking straight into the bathroom and turning on the shower. As she waited for the water to warm up, she walked to the window, opening them and pushing them as far out as they would go to cool her face.

There was a dull, repetitive chopping sound and she looked down to see that Lorcan was almost directly beneath her, the blade of the axe flashing in the sun as he raised it and brought it down again. She didn’t know that Maeve’s comments had angered him this much. The black ink on his arms that creeped under his top to cover his back seemed to capture the sunlight that made his copper skin glow.

Before she could get too distracted by the sight of him, again, Elide stood up straight and undressed to enter the shower, resting her forehead against the tiled wall as she cursed everything and everyone.

She was in such deep, unending shit.

 +*+*+*+*+*+*

Music set on the highest possible volume, Lorcan cut firewood until his shoulders burned and his chest heaved, his lungs greedily searching for air. He let the axe fall to the ground with a heavy thump and used the hem of his shirt to wipe his brow. The braid that Aneha had made was coming undone, flowers lying crushed on the ground around him and chunks of hair falling free from the constraints.

Lorcan didn’t bother to fix it as he stalked towards the house in need of a shower. Usually, he could exercise massive amounts of self restraint, but somehow Maeve pushed every button possible until he exploded. He didn’t see her as he moved through the house and figured she’d slinked back to the guesthouse she insisted on occupying every time she visited. 

His earbuds were still in and he nodded in passing to the boys who were in the living room, playing some video game. Maybe he’d join them later.

Tapping his fingers against his thigh to the Dead Kennedys’ Too Drunk To Fuck, he entered his room, closing the door behind him and shucking his shirt off to the floor.

He went out to the balcony, flinging himself down on one of the chairs and slinging an arm over his eyes. Lorcan basked in the sun’s rays until it became too hot and he stood up, his music still playing far too loudly as he walked inside and dropped his shorts, tossing them onto the dresser as he turned to the bathroom, completely oblivious to everything. He could’ve sworn he heard something so he turned around, seeing nothing and walking backwards.

Suddenly, something rammed into his back and he whirled, catching whatever it was as they went down.

They fell to the floor and he looked down just as Elide, a very naked and wet Elide, looked up.

They both yelled and jumped away from each other as Elide held her arm over her chest and crossed her legs, “Why are you naked?!”

“Why are you wet?!” Lorcan yelled back, holding his hands in front of his groin.

“Don’t look at me,” she hissed, not moving until he turned and she hastily grabbed a towel from the armoire. Lorcan’s phone had fallen during their abrupt greeting and he bent down to get while Elide yelled again, “Anneith below, can you not?! I can see everything.”

He quickly changed positions and tugged his shorts on, his face bright red as he turned and she demanded, "Explain yourself.”

“I didn’t see you! I was outside chopping wood,” he said, looking anywhere but his boss in a towel, skin gleaming.

“You didn’t hear me?”

“I was listening to music, princess. Why did you jump me?”

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, “I did not jump you. Well, I didn’t mean to. I forgot a towel after my shower and you were just there.”

Lorcan looked down at her suspiciously, “Were you trying to seduce me?”

She rolled her eyes, “Please. Don’t flatter yourself, it’s not cute.”

He smiled cockily, raising his hands, “It’s fine, you know. I get it, I’m sweaty, half-naked, you saw me chopping wood and it made you feel some type of way.”

“You stink. Go take a shower.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Elide just rolled her eyes again as he walked to the bathroom, stopping at the door and looking over his shoulder at her, “Don’t take this the wrong way…” her back was turned to him and he saw her tattoo, a delicate line of script written down her spine, with a mountain range on her right shoulder blade, a wyvern mid flight on her left. He fell silent, unable to form words.

“What?”

“You’re a very beautiful woman, Elide.”

“Shut up,” she said, though when she glanced back at him, her lips pulled into a small grin.

 +*+*+*+*+*+*

Aelin and Nehemia were near tears after Elide recounted an adjusted version of her and Lorcan’s sudden and wet incident. She got along really well with the both of them and once she remembered that this wasn’t supposed to last, her chest grew tight and she needed to have a drink.

Odette booted Rowan, Vaughan, Connall, and Fenrys from her living room to the patio. They all smiled at Aelin and Nehemia, the bright grins dampening as they saw Elide. “Oh. Hey, Elide.”

She pretended not to notice it and ignored the pang in her chest again. “Hey.”

Vaughan broke the awkward silence by sprawling on the couch next to her, practically crushing her into the cushion with his frame. “Gods, I rule at gaming. You guys wish you had my skills.” That seemed to do the trick and the boys were quick to argue, dissolving into petty bickering.

Nehemia helped Elide push Vaughan off and reassured her, “Don’t worry – they’re always like this.”

“The first few months were unbearable,” Aelin grumbled, scowling at her boyfriend who remained oblivious. “We were all in the same dorm and they fought constantly.”

“What changed?”

“Please, don’t tell the story,” came another voice, deep and rumbling, and Lorcan came strolling out, in a pair of shorts and a band tee. He shoved Vaughan from the couch and sat next to Elide, nodding to her drink as he stretched his arms around the back of the couch, “Whatcha got there, princess?”

Elide rolled her eyes at the nickname, “Gin and ice. What’s this story?”

He groaned, dropping his head back. “I hate this story.” The boys chorused their agreement as Aelin exclaimed, moving to seat herself in Rowan’s lap. Everyone exchanged looks and scooted away from the affectionate couple.

“But I love this story.” Aelin pouted at him and Lorcan caved, waving his hand.

“Let’s hear it then.”

The afternoon bled into evening and then night, the sun setting and bathing Lorcan in golden and orange light. His arm had fallen down around her shoulders and she was tucked up into his side, his arm a welcome weight around her.

They had talked about everything, exchanging stories about everyone in rounds. It was Lorcan’s turn and they turned to Elide, waiting for something. Lorcan nudged her when she didn’t say anything, staring up at him in a soft silence. “El. Your turn.”

“Oh,” she sat up straighter, her side prickling at the loss of contact. He laughed quietly and pressed a kiss to the side of her head, tugging her back down. “A couple months before we got together, I was on this case and I fell asleep in the middle of the night in my office. I don’t even know why Lorcan was still there, but he woke me up and carried me to my car and drove me home.” Elide tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, running her finger over the rim of her copper mug. “And then he carried me to my apartment and put me to bed. It was really sweet and… nice.”

Elide was sure her cheeks were flushed as she grew warm and hid her face in Lorcan’s side as they teased him for going ‘soft’.

 +*+*+*+*+*+*

When Elide yawned yet again, Lorcan stood up and picked her up, “Night, guys. Gotta get my girl to bed.” She smiled sleepily at ‘my girl’ and nuzzled closer to him, softly sighing into his neck as they said goodnight and he carried her through the house to their room, gently putting her on the bed. “Princess, where’s your pj’s?”

She didn’t open her eyes, pointing randomly, “Bag. Big one.”

Huffing a laugh, Lorcan opened her bag, pulling out a pair of sweats and crewneck with the logo from her university. As he moved back to her side, he commented, “Always thought you were a satin and lace nightie type of gal.”

Elide cracked open an eye. “You think about what I sleep in? That’s not very professional,” she teased him, a cheeky glint in her eyes as she sat up and took the clothes from him, her movements stuttering as his smile dropped and he took a too-large step back.

“There’s a lot of not professional things about this, Elide.”

Her face fell and she nodded, standing and moving to the bathroom without another word.

 +*+*+*+*+*+*

Walking out, she found him shirtless, sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. Elide padded over to him, hesitantly reaching out and resting her hand on his shoulder. “Are you ok?”

Lorcan laughed harshly and moved away from her hand, “Am I ok? What do you think, Elide? You’re blackmailing me and making me lie to my entire family.” He stood up and began pacing as she slowly sat, her hands in her lap. “And, the thing is, we aren’t even in the clear! I could go to fucking prison for you and ruin everything I’ve worked for.”

“I’m—”

“You don’t even seem to care,” he spat, glaring at her. “What, is this just another Monday for you? What is so bad in Terrasen that you can’t move back there?”

Her head was tilted down and she wiped her eyes, sniffling once. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand, Lorcan, but you’re not the only person who’s had a hard life.”

She felt so small sitting there, her vision blurring. So very small and alone.

The bed dipped as he sat down next to her and awkwardly wrapped an arm around her, nothing like when they were outside with his friends. Elide half-wondered what had changed and as reality crashed down around her, she stood like his touch burned her and moved without word to her side, crawling in and turning on her side away from him.

It had all been for show. 

Gods, she was an idiot.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

@mythicaitt @tinywolfofeyllwe @schmlip-scribble​ @the-regal-warrior​ @westofmoon @empire-of-wildfire @rhysands-highlady @city-of-fae @shyvioletcat @alifletcher2012 @tangledraysofsunshine @ttakeitbacknoww @tswaney17 @ourbooksuniverse @flora-and-fae @thesirenwashere e @queenofxhearts @maastrash @mynewdreamwasyou @superspiritfestival @yikesitsmaddie @flowerspringsea @queen-of-glass @sleeping-and-books s @b00kworm @bat-wing-rhys @poisonous00 @empress-ofbloodshed @feyrethedarklady @gorl-power @keshavomit @ifinallygavein let me know if you want to be added/removed from the tag list!

[thevoidscreams]

These trend are made for walking

Summary:You try out an internet trend with your bird boyfriend It ends up being so much more. 18+ Warnings: Oral sex, vaginal sex, some swearing and nudity Word count:3232

(Yo this got weirdly soft at the end. What even is this?)

You didn’t usually spend too much time on social media because overall places like Facebook and twitter and Instagram were simply breeding grounds for vile bitter behavior and you were just tired of it.

Of course not every social media platform was perfect but there were some that overall just seemed better than others.

So far your foray into the Vine knockoff, tik tok, hadn’t been as bad as you first thought it was going to be. The comedy pages had decent original content and the artist put a lot of passion into their works and that was genuinely nice. Call all them to the House of Vibes cause that what they were, at least to you they were. 

In all your endless scrolling and liking of every Hawks cosplayer you could possibly find, you took notice of certain trends. They never compelled you too much despite their popularity, but one trend finally did catch your eye and there was just no way you could stop yourself from giving it a whirl. 

Keigo had a rare opportunity today. Today he could stay home and do nothing, just nothing. Or so he thought, until he stared down at the caller ID on his phone.

It was his manager. With an exaggerated sigh he pressed talk and put on his best happy tone he could manage. “Hey man what’s up? Why you callin me  on my day off?” It was a rather aggressive question for the cheery tone but if they were gonna bother him with some business shit while he was supposed to be relaxing then it was going to be their problem.

The plan was perfect, you looked perfect, your phone was in hand and your clothes were on the floor. Hawks favorite pair of your underwear was in hand and you were ready to attack. 

You started the video and made your way towards the living room where you could hear your man complaining about how he was positive he’d filed those reports properly.  It was the best possible timing because he’d pick you over dumb work stuff any day and you knew it.

The fuck was so important about those reports that it couldn’t wait till he got back to work to take care of it. He scrubbed his hand over his face as he growled. “Look, I can take care of it when I get in on Monday. This is my first day off in weeks and it’s not like the world will end if I don’t come now.” His manager began on another spiel about taking responsibility but the hero was already checking out.

You peeked around the corner into the room. He wasn’t facing you, he was sitting on the couch wings draped over the low backrest, his feathers were unusually sharp looking which meant he was irritated. Understandable considering you could hear his manager on the other end of the phone lecturing him as you approached slowly. Well, you smiled, this ought to help. You balled up the panties and tossed them onto his head.

Hawks wasn’t really listening. He’d heard this all before and was pretty used to it. What he wasn’t used to was being assaulted by undergarments. He pulled the lacy cloth from atop his head and looked at it confused. Turning he found the source of his sudden bombardment and his jaw dropped in surprise. 

The voice on the other line was almost entirely forgotten as he stood up. “Uh hey man I gotta let you go. Something really important just came up.” 

“What? No, listen hawks,” but he didn’t have time to finish as Keigo’s thumb brushed over the end call button.

“Hey babe what’s all this?” His look of awe turned to a look of pure hunger as you began to back towards the bedroom. “Oh just thought you could use a little TLC.”

“Oh? Then why are you backing up?” He hadn’t come around the couch yet and was grinning at you like a mad man.

“Well if you really want it babe you’re gonna have to come and get it.” You laughed and began to jog backwards faster.

Never one to let his prey escape Keigo cleared the couch in one jump and made a beeline for you. A yelp then a giggle bubbled up out of you and you turned to full on run back to the room, your prey drive sufficiently activated.

You didn’t make it far. You were fast but Keigo was faster. He snatched the phone from your hand and tossed it aside as he picked you up and carried you to the bed.

His lips attacked your neck and chest as his hand massaged your hips. “Can I have some of that TLC now pretty bird?” He had a soft eager tone as he lavished you with affection.

“Of course, but we’re gonna have to get you out of those clothes first. “

With lighting like quickness he bounced off the bed and began to stripe like his clothes had caught flame. 

“You have no idea how much I love you right now.”

“Needed to escape from the evil phone call?”

“Yes, please remind me not to accept phone calls on my days off anymore.”

You gladly accepted him into your arms as he crawled back onto the bed.

“How would you like to receive your loving care first my love?”

Hawks kissed you and took your hand from his shoulder, pulling you up till you were both kneeling. 

“Well I think the first order of business would be to get a taste for each other don’t you think?” 

With a nod and a wink you pushed him back into a sitting position and licked your lips.

You didn’t enjoy putting your mouth on other people until you met Kiego. He was a rather clean dude despite his inherent laziness and he  kept a stellar level of hygiene. More than that though, he wasn’t as pushy as others before him and the best part was he didn’t hold back on any of his sounds. Hearing him moan in pleasure was better than any song and you could happily listen to it all day.

You were blessed with the first of his little groans as you ran your tongue along the underside of his length all the way to the tip, giving a little lick to the slit at the top. He was already so hard and it made you smile as you took the tip into your mouth and suckled it. 

He leaned back, resting his weight on an elbow as the other came to rest softly in your hair, guiding you gently down his length. Relaxing your jaw and throat you were able to take him most of the way right off the bat which wasn’t always the case, but today you were determined. Keigo was certainly enjoying your efforts as you pulled back to the tip, gave it another little suck and dipped back down till he was hitting the back of your throat.

“Fuck Dove, just like that.” His voice was thready and needy and made your body feel just that much warmer. Your tongue danced along his shaft as you sucked and slowly he began to sink back onto the bed, eyes shut, nothing but a blissful expression while you worked. It was nice knowing you did this to him, but you too were excited to get a turn. Giving your boyfriend a hum and a little pat on the thigh you watched him open an eye to look at you. Gently you laid your hand over the one he had resting on the back of your skull and pressed it down into your locks harder. 

Keigo’s blowjob addled brain finally seemed to get what you were suggesting and his smile widened by a mile.

He tightened his hand in your hair pulling slightly as he waited for you to give the go ahead. It took a moment of adjusting position but finally you locked eyes with him and of all the signals you could have given you went with a wink, he almost laughed at the sight of you with his cock in your mouth winking. He didn’t let it stop him though, after all it would be rude to laugh at you when you’d so generously offered your mouth and throat as his person fuck toy.

Dragging you back a few inches till your mouth was half way down his length and then began to shallowly thrust his cock into your mouth. As much as he wanted to go all out and face fuck you till you were gagging he knew he had to build up but it was steadily growling harder to hold back.

“Ah such a good girl sucking my cock like that. You want me to fuck your face?”

Oh how nice that sounded. The thought alone made you moan and your pussy drip. 

“Alright then I can see how bad you want it and you’re being good for me.” The force of his hips increased and the tip of his dick hit the back of your throat making you gag. Even still he held your head in his hands, fingers tangled in your soft locks as he rutted against your face. 

You were enjoying yourself, the feeling of his hot length in your mouth was just so strangely satisfying and each time you pushed his cock to the back of your throat you could nuzzle the little patch of flax color curls above his cock. It tickled the tip of your nose and made you want to giggle at the oddly fun sensation. Not that you could though, giggling was hard to do with penis in your throat, so instead you settled for what might have been a moan.

Hawks wasn’t going to last doing this, it was too good and he couldn’t even remember what the fuck fuck pacing even was. Your mouth was just so wet, warm and wonderful. 

“Ah fuck, fuck! Dove I’m. I’m gonna” It was all he could manage to mumble as you pulled back to the tip and let him feed you his cum. The slightly bitter taste is better than normal and you have to credit it to his better eating habits since you two started dating. 

His wings are jittery and little feathers come loose and flutter to the bedding below. 

“You look happy.” You comment innocently, as though you hadn’t just had his genitals in your mouth. “Well yeah, getting a blowjob from a hot person tends to do that.” You blush and have to laugh. Sexual acts with Keigo were nothing if not fun and you like that no matter what you were doing he always found a way to make you smile.

The two of you took a breather and you got a drink of water.

“Alright, I do believe it is my turn to get a taste of you pretty bird.” You flopped down onto the bed with a nearly comical amount of enthusiasm and huffed lightly when you bounced not once but twice. Your boyfriend was on you in a hot second as soon as you stopped bouncing, your thighs already up on his shoulders, his warm hands holding you firmly in place. A quick flash of pink darted over his beautiful licks and golden eyes surveyed your dripping sex. “Oh wow you’re already so wet. Does sucking me really get you that riled up?”

You shrugged and met his eyes. “Who can say? We might have to test that theory more in the future. You know, just go all in, research style and keep records, eat some snacks while we take notes.”

Keigo hummed and nodded. “Good idea, I like how you think. Oh and while we’re on the topic of snacks,” He paused and pointed one finger at your dripping sex, “are you going to eat that or can I?” You slapped a hand over your mouth as you broke down into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. “Oh my gosh Kei! What even?” You snorted once then twice as you shook from the force of the giggles. He found himself grinning like a fool, God did he love you.

Satisfied with your reaction Keigo immediately set to work as he ran his tongue up your slit, marveling at the taste of your juices. Your hips bucked at the sudden pleasure. He took advantage of your shock and kissed your clit before taking it into his mouth to reacquaint it with his tongue. Your finger snaked through his wheaten tresses, gripping them tightly as you held him against your lower lips. Of course just tasting your outer lips wasn’t enough and he slid his tongue past your labia to massage you quivering inner walls. His focus was set entirely on making you squirm and moan with just his warm generous mouth and boy did he.

The sensation of being eaten out by your boyfriend was akin being electrocuted; but in the best way possible. The man knew what he was doing with that mouth and made it abundantly clear he did by drawing delighted sounds of varying pitches from some place deep inside you. 

His name fell from your own mouth like a prayer as you begged him not to stop or to keep pressing his tongue right there.

You were so very close when pulled away leaving only one finale brief kiss on your woman hood.

“Kei NO! Don’t stop now.”

He chuckled and crawled up your body, trailing kisses along your form till he reached your mouth. The musky flavor of your own sex was pressed into your mouth as he kissed you.

“Sorry Dove. As much as I like watching you squirm from my mouth I get a much better view up here.” 

You grumbled as you gazed up at him. He was so handsome in the light that came in from the window. The sun illuminated him, making his hair look golden and his red wings look divine above you as he rested between your thighs, his hardened length mere inches away from being inside you. You just wanted him to make you cum and as grumpy as his edging made you, it was nowhere near as strong as your need to feel him plow you into the bed. Your arms snaked around his shoulders and your fingers found the base of his wings as you pulled him back in for another kiss. “Alright then bird brain. If you intend to fuck me then fuck me.” It was all he needed to hear and one hand slipped down to position himself at your entrance. 

Keigo didn’t have the biggest dick you’d ever seen but the way he felt inside you was enough proof that size wasn’t everything. You’d never been uncomfortable when Keigo was with you. It was however mind numbingly splendid and you let yourself fall into the pleasure he gave you both gladly and wholeheartedly.

He hissed as he pressed into you, wet as you were your inner walls were tight and warm. Keigo took his time pressing his full length inside you. He enjoyed your soft moans and even more the way you body felt against his. You were practically hugging him and the intimacy of the moment stole his breath. He enjoyed joking around with you during sex and making you laugh, he even liked making you scream profanities or his name in the heat of the moment. However these few quiet seconds before he began to rut into you were his favorite. The softness of your warm breath on his shoulder, the small expectant tug at his feathers, the gentleness of your embrace, he really felt that love was what he was creating with you. In this quiet you weren’t just his girlfriend or partner. You were his mate and he loved you. His cheek brushed against yours and you hugged him tighter, ready for his next move which he would give you,however not before he kissed you softly. Just the faintest brush of his lips, so chaste for an act like this. His cheek came back to your shoulder and he felt so whole as his eyes drifted shut and he pulled out and thrust back in. Pleasure shot through you both and lights exploded behind Keigo’s eyes as he heard you gasp his name. Keigo didn’t bother setting a regulated pace, he let his body work with yours and the result was magic. At some point his hands had come to rest on your lower back and shoulder, returning your embrace as he gasped and panted praise into the side of your neck intermittently broken by a kiss to your throat or jaw. He kept hugging you tighter at every possible opportunity, which was often as the gradually increasing strength of his thrusts shifted you in his hold.

You were fucking interplanetary right now. Sex was pretty good, and with Keigo it was great but this, whatever sudden emotional connection the two of you had going on was other worldly. You had no idea what had happened. Cause you assumed that Keigo was going to fuck you, which was what you usually got, but this? No this wasn’t fucking this was love making, and the difference was night and day. You pulled him closer as he loosened another moan with his thrusts. The coil in your stomach was wound so tight you felt like it could snap at any second now. “Keigo~” Your voice sounded so soft and sweet, full of need but not just for the physical release you desired but for him. 

Without saying anything in return your lover shifted his hips, thrusting harder as he brushed against a sweet spot deep inside you. Your body jolted and your vision danced with little stars. 

You think the sudden increase of noise in the room may have been you crying out for your lover not to stop, to cum with you, inside you, but you weren’t entirely sure. You were sure however of the I love you’s and your actual name as Keigo spilled his seed deep inside you.

Your high lasted what felt like hours as you held your winged boyfriend and kissed him. His hands wandered over you as he continued to tell you how much he loved you. You returned his affection in kind. He kissed tears from your cheeks, you hadn’t realized you’d begun to cry. His wings cocooned you away from the rest of the world as you basked in the world’s best afterglow.

Once you came back to your senses you were dumbfounded. Had all that really just happened? “What was that? I thought you said you were gonna fuck me, not make me experience sex pleasures from the nth dimension.” Keigo laughed tiredly. “I have no idea. I was just so in love with you and felt so connected to you.” You nodded. “Yeah me too. It was the best feeling I think I’ve ever experienced. It was just supposed to be a fun internet trend where I walked in front of you naked and then maybe sex but this was unexpected.”

Keigo listened but as he held you he felt so tired. “Mmm let's talk about it later. I’m tired.”

You yawned and agreed. It could wait till after you napped.

(Hope you enjoy) 

[bellattawrites]

darling dearest

pairing: hitoshi shinso x fem!reader - Y/n, L/n

rating: SFW, 16+, mentioned sex

cw: swearing, suggestive comments, implied sex,

fluff, enemies to lovers, college AU

word count: 1.6k

The sun began setting down on downtown Tokyo. Y/n made her way to the dorms after her final class of the day. She was exhausted and still had so much work she needed to finish.

College was really wearing Y/n out.

She took her keycard from her backpack and pressed it against the sensor. The door opened and she made her way to the shoe locker.

After changing out her shoes, Y/n walked towards the elevator. The door opened as she moved her hand to press the button.

“Yikes, you should’ve taken the stairs.” said a daunting voice.

Y/n turned to see the last person she wanted to ever see. Hitoshi Shinso, a student in the same year. They met in high school and constantly quarreled over things most might consider stupid. To be truthful, neither of them really knew if their arguments were even worth the trouble.

But one thing they both knew for sure was that they did not like each other.

“Right, because if I had taken the stairs I would’ve been able to avoid your ugly ass face. Move.” Y/n said harshly. 

Shinso rolled his eyes and scoffed at the woman standing in front of him. 

“You talk like you’re in charge of the elevator, L/n. Maybe I don’t want to move. Take the stairs, looks like you could use it.” Shinso said. 

Y/n sighed and pressed the button for the other elevator, choosing to completely ignore Shinso. He frowned and exited the elevator. Shinso wanted a reaction that she had decided not the give him.

“You gonna say something?” he asked. Y/n smirked and slipped by him into the elevator he had just left. 

She raised a hand and waved to him with a smirk.

“Goodbye.” she said as the doors began to close.

Once she left his view, Shinso scowled and turned on his heel. 

“That bitch.” he muttered under his breath before walking out of the building.

***

The next night, Y/n and her friends walked into the club by the campus. After a long week of classes and endless studying, she felt like she deserved a night off.

The inside of a nightclub in Tokyo was a seemingly surreal experience. The lights flashed and the bass drowned out the faint sounds of hoots and hollers. Y/n began thriving off of the disorientation and began dancing to the music. 

She turned her head to the right in search for her friend, but instead saw something she wasn’t ready to see. 

Y/n wasn’t even aware that she wasn’t prepared to see what was taking place.

A girl with luscious long legs, gorgeous honey-colored hair, and a body that many would consider irresistible danced on someone with a familiar face. His typically unruly purple hair hair  had fallen and clung to the sides of his face. The hands that Y/n had unknowingly noticed so many times tugged on the girl’s hips as she grinded into him.

Y/n felt sick. The undescribably wonderous feeling from before turned into panic. She rushed off of the dance floor and towards the door as fast as she could 

“Y/n! Wait!” her friend called after her.

Y/n didn’t stop at the sound of her friend’s voice. As soon as she reached the door, she kicked open the door and stumbled outside. She disregarded the people in line and the bouncer watching as she fell to her knees and gasped for air.

A tight feeling took over her chest and she closed her eyes to attempt to breathe properly again.

“God, you look pitiful on the ground like that.” 

Y/n’s eyes opened wide and she turned her head to see Shinso and the girl. One of his hands rested on her hip and the other laid by his side. 

“Your eyeliner is running, Sweetie.” the girl said in a mocking tone. Y/n looked down at their feet and sighed. 

“Are you just going to sit there mocking me, Shinso? Don’t you have something better to do?” Y/n said as she motioned to the girl. 

Shinso’s eyes changed from a malicious glare to a concerned gaze. Sure he had made fun of Y/n in the past, but she usually came back with a retort. It was unlike her to not fire an insult back. 

“She’s right, come on.” the girl said, now clinging to him. Y/n had stood up and straightened out her dress already, returning to her usual stance.

Shinso followed the girl away from the club, but couldn’t shake the thought of Y/n hopelessly kneeling on the ground. 

He hated this feeling. He felt like shit.

Guilt coursed through his veins for the rest of the night. 

Shinso kept thinking about Y/n.

***

The following week was an uneventful one. Y/n had gone about her week doing the usual things. Classes, studying, and extra work had consumed her schedule. 

But something unusual that she had noticed was that she hadn’t had a notable encounter with Shinso.

When they crossed paths outside of the dorm building, he didn’t respond to her insult. He simply rolled his eyes and walked away. Y/n knew this was because of what happened outside the club.

She knew that the encounter probably stuck with Shinso as much as it stuck with her.

Y/n had no intention to admit why she had reacted so severely to seeing Shinso grind with a random girl. She figured it was better to ignore and suppress whatever the hell she was feeling instead of going through the painstaking process of facing her her emotions.

But she seemed to completely disregard her plan to suppress her feelings when she saw Shinso exiting the elevator she was approaching.

“Hey!” she yelled. 

Shinso cursed under his breath and turned to face Y/n.

“What?” he asked in an annoyed tone.

“Why won’t you be an asshole to me? Ever since you saw me fucked up outside the club, you won’t hurl insults at me.” Y/n said.

“Do you want me to be an asshole to you?” Shinso asked. 

Y/n raised her shoulders frustrated. “I don’t know!” she slightly yelled.

Shinso scoffed. “Okay well what do you want?” he asked while slightly raising his voice.

“I don’t know what I want, Shinso. It’s just strange for you to not be an ass.” Y/n said. 

Shinso chuckled for a second before squinting at Y/n. 

“You must be out of your damn mind! I stop being rude to you after I see you upset and you get mad about it? You’re literally insane!” Shinso said.

“I don’t need you to pity me, I don’t need you to feel like you have to be nice to me. I’m not weak, Shinso!” she said. 

“So you want me to be a jerk as if I never saw you upset. I’ve never seen you like that, I don’t even know what made you that upset!” he said. 

Y/n stood there and just looked at him for a moment. She didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t like she could just explain it to him.

“Forget I said anything. I’m going upstairs.” she said. 

Y/n walked into the elevator and disappeared from Shinso’s sight. He sighed and looked at the door the the stairwell. 

It was honestly such a bad idea to do what he was thinking about doing. Facing the feelings he had been having since high school was a god awful idea. He wasn’t good enough to deserve someone like Y/n. That’s why he did what he could to make her dislike him.

But at this point, Shinso couldn’t help himself.

***

The elevator door opened and Y/n took a step forward. She was suddenly grabbed by the wrists and pulled forward before her body pressed into someone else’s/

She was met with purple eyes that stared deep into her own. Nerves began to course through her body and her breathing became irregular.

“You annoy the fuck out of me, you know that?” Shinso said both softly and aggressively at the same time. 

Y/n took a moment to process what he said.

“Yeah, I do it on purpose.” she said.

The fronts of their bodies were still pressed together and their faces were only inches apart. Both of them waited for the other to do something, do anything.

“You’re really gonna make me do it?” Shinso asked.

Y/n smirked and her eyes thinned.

“Yup.” she said.

Shinso rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Tch. Fuck you.” he said. 

He then violently smashed his lips onto hers, and she immediately returned the kiss back. Their lips continued to move in sync more and more aggressively. Y/n’s hands moved up to Shinso’s hair and his hands moved to hold onto her hips.

Y/n pulled away and the separation of their lips made a popping sound.

“Yeah, this is a hallway, follow me.” she said.

Y/n grabbed Shinso’s wrist and dragged him down the hall to a door. She unlocked it with a keycard and cracked the door open.

“Wait, are you sure?” Shinso asked.

Y/n turned around and devilishly smirked at him.

“Yes.”

***

Y/n’s eyes fluttered open the next morning only to be met with the sight of someone’s very bruised neck.

Extremely bruised neck.

She then realized what she had done.

Who was in the bed.

And that neither she, or Shinso were not wearing clothes.

“Good morning, Darling Dearest.” grumbled Shinso. His morning voice caught Y/n off guard. She then realized that she was curled into him and resting on his arm.

“We weren’t drunk?” she asked as many of last night’s memories came flooding back.

“Nope. We were angry though.” Shinso said.

Y/n did remember that part. The absolutely aggressive angry sex was basically unforgettable.

“I thought you hated me?” Y/n asked as she tilted Shinso’s head down.

Their eyes met once more.

“Things change.” he said with a grin.

“You’re cute when you don’t want to admit things out loud. Just say you love me already.” Y/n said as she buried her face into his chest. 

Shinso sighed and wrapped his arms tighter around Y/n.

“I love you.”

“Yeah yeah, I love you too.” 

[sue-bts]

Matcha Frappe, No Whip - Jikook (f/m)

Inspired by: JK’s workout vlog

→ Slow burn smut. Avid gym-goer Jungkook orders from the in-gym smoothie barista Jimin. Prolonged stares, unhealthy amounts of smoothie consumption and a lot of muscle squeezing are the results.

or: Jimin can't stop looking at the new gym regular, who makes a lot of noise while working out.

Pairing: Jungkook x Jimin

Words: 20k

/ AO3 Link /

“This dude won’t shut the fuck up."

When Jungkook got his membership, within just a few visits, everyone quickly developed a strong hatred for him. It seemed like gaining enemies would be hard to do so quickly… but Jungkook was good at everything, even when it came to being the most infamous gym goer. Having just moved to this city for college, Jungkook got himself a membership to the local gym. Isn’t college supposed to be a time to make friends? Despite this, Jungkook’s gym antics proved counterproductive. 

He wasn't planning on waisting that type of money on the gym only to not go. First, that would be a slap in the face to his dad—who was paying for the membership—but Jungkook as well just enjoyed working out. He was an avid chest press enthusiast, along with being an expert at most other machines and workout routines known to man. Despite this expertise, people’s focus on him were directed to something different about him—not in a positive way. Their irritated stares were not to admire his perfect form or the curves of his muscles as they tensed, their attention was rather focused on how he was really fucking loud. 

And this loudness wasn’t for brief little bursts when the workout became hard to endure. His noises would continue for long periods of time during his workouts, his noises were long, drawn-out and constant. They closely resembled moans, sometimes even turning into slight growls when the sets especially strained at his endurance. He’d let out these huge huffs and the gym attendees would roll their eyes and quickly try to turn up their own music. 

On the rarer occasions, other gym members would even go up to him mid-workout and start up a conversation, maybe to distract him from his current circuit—quieting the gym for just a few minutes of peace—or maybe to segue the conversation into asking why he makes so many noises while working out. Jungkook was unfazed by the inquiries and the unwanted attention, he continued on without quieting himself nor noticing the many glares in his direction from the other people on other machines. He was that kind of guy, it wasn’t that he was insensitive or didn’t care, he simply didn’t notice when people were upset with him. He didn’t even notice a certain boy in certain little smoothie shop who couldn’t keep his eyes off of him.

 ☕︎

 At first, Jimin didn’t notice when Jungkook joined the gym. He was always in a rush behind the little counter of the in-gym smoothie shop. Either he’d be taking orders, or in charge of making the drinks, or cleaning up. Whatever he was up to he was always trying his hardest to impress his manager; Namjoon always had a sternness to how he carried himself, his face usually stoic when he evaluated how Jimin worked. 

It was probably about a week into Jungkook’s membership that gym employees, and a few gym regulars, brought up the new kid to Jimin, describing how he was wreaking havoc upon everyone’s ears.

“I think that dude must be listening to death metal in those little earbuds to not realize how fucking loud he’s being,” one middle-aged lady said with a sneer, before ordering a fruit smoothie from Jimin. 

Jimin hadn’t thought much of the comment, there were always the odd complaints here and there from people who like to complain. The comments became more and more frequent though, Jimin presumed it was just an easy conversation filler while he took people’s orders, but their seriousness sometimes shocked Jimin.

“I’m surprised you haven’t gone mad yet listening to that one really loud guy,” one of gym’s personal trainers said to Jimin when he picked up his smoothie from the back counter. 

“I’m kept pretty busy in here,” Jimin smiled, remaining professional. He didn’t even have to pretend though, still being unaware of who this infamous boy could be. 

 ☕︎

 Two weeks into Jungkook’s membership Jimin finally meets him. Or if we were to refer to him using the other labels Jimin has heard: “that loud son of a bitch,” “the kid,” and the surprisingly crude: “buck-toothed whiney boy,” (that one made Jimin laugh despite being so rude). 

Jungkook’s typical schedule on Wednesdays is to come in early, around eight in the morning, before his summer class at eleven. And Jimin’s usual work schedule starts at one pm til the smoothie shop closes at nine (the gym staying open twenty-four hours). This particular Wednesday is different due to Jimin’s coworker’s dog deciding to get the flu, making him take on her shift. This puts Jimin behind the counter at the ungodly hour of nine in the morning. 

Jimin is only an hour into his shift when Jungkook rolls into the smoothie shop, fresh from his workout, one AirPod still lodged into his ear. 

Jimin is fucked. 

Jimin doesn't get a chance to grab a good look of the boy before he approaches the counter; Jimin is used to being speedy and going about his orders in a rush, so it is second nature for him to see the customers in a blur, without taking the time to evaluate each of them. 

When he stands with only the counter between him and the customer he does a double-take, that’s when he screws himself over. 

The first thing Jimin notices of the boy is that his shirt is so sweaty the outline of his chest and abs are prominent, the shirt is stuck to them by the moisture, rippling over the outlines of his body. Jimin is sure that it must have been a normal t-shirt before this boy’s workout, but now, the thing resembles a wet sheet of paper, nearing translucent—but Jimin doesn’t really mind that. 

Jimin quickly stops staring at the boy’s chest and instead finally looks up to the boy’s face. Jimin is blushing over how worked up he is at just the sight of this random gym-goer, hopefully the boy hadn’t noticed how Jimin had been so carefully evaluating his form. 

Of course, Jungkook wasn’t paying attention to Jimin’s frantic behavior. Jungkook’s attention is turned to the blackboard menu overhead, eyes gliding side to side reading the different drink and food options. Jimin watches as the taller boy’s taught jawline flexes in thought, his sweaty hair plastered to his skin in little ringlets, his mouth opens and shuts while he reads the items silently to himself. It’s a tantalizing sight, Jimin doesn’t make an effort to clear his throat to gain back the boy’s attention, nor does he mutter the passive-aggressive, “Take your time.” Instead, Jimin utilizes these moments to watch the other, appreciate the angles, how the other’s breathing isn’t quite back to normal yet, still in little puffs that heave past the boy’s sharp collarbones. 

For a few brief seconds the silence and wait is tolerable for Jimin, his fingers curling in on themselves as they press against the counter, his apron starting to itch at the nape of his neck. But then… the dark-haired boy’s tongue presses against the inside of his cheek while he thinks. This view of the boy in front of Jimin, with his tongue pressing to his cheek, protruding from within his mouth, has a distinct correlation to something a bit more inappropriate that pulses within Jimin’s perverted mind. God, Jimin swears he woke up in some alternate hell dimension today to have to deal with this shit only a foot or so from where he stands. 

It’s not really Jimin’s fault after all. This is his job, he can’t just run away from this angel man in front of him. But he still beats himself up for how horny he is already. Each time he meets a really attractive guy this kind of thing happens, he catches feelings so quickly—well, maybe not feelings, maybe just a lot of pent up sexual tension. And then later in the night he’ll go home and imagine all these made-up scenarios where he and this random hottie will have a meet-cute and end up fucking against his apartment’s little kitchen counter… or maybe on the rug so it makes Jimin’s skin bright red from friction… or or or perhaps they don’t even make it to Jimin’s apartment, they could just fuck in the elevator, he wouldn’t mind at all.

He tries his best to shake away this entire train of thought, it’s unrealistic, idealistic and a disappointing hobby to have as nothing much comes of it. Late night Jimin, when his lips are puffy and they become indented with his own teeth marks from how he bites into them during an orgasm, thatJimin has no regrets with the hobby.

“Oh shit,” the sweaty boy utters. 

Finally, Jimin is brought back to reality, having had his vision turn to a haze while steadily focused on the other boy’s well-structured face. The boy doesn’t pay notice to Jimin spacing out on him though, his eyes are turned to his hand. 

“Damn, I’m sorry I’m so gross right now, I didn’t even notice,” he says to Jimin, gesturing to how he had wiped his forehead of sweat, only to realize the degree of how sweaty he is.

Jimin, taken aback at how Jungkook hadn’t just blurted out his order (as most others would do), stutters to find words. 

“Oh, don’t worry! I thought it just must’ve started raining outside or something!” Jimin exclaims, trying to add a cute little smile. The boy just furrows his brow and takes a glance at the many windows to outside the gym.

“It’s June,” he says plainly. 

“…Oh.. yeah, you’re right.”

There’s a rush of heat that floods to Jimin’s cheeks, trying his hardest to ignore the awkward pause as the boy’s eyes are wide and blankly take in Jimin.

“Are you ready to order?”

The boy’s stoic expression finally breaks into a chuckle, “Right, yeah. I don’t know if I like any of these options.”

Oh?

Jimin pauses, dumbfounded. 

The boy notices the other’s pause, “Which one’s your favorite?”

Finally something Jimin can comprehend. “I like the matcha frappe,” he answers, his voice shifting into a softer and sweeter coo. 

“That sounds good to me, can I sub the milk for coconut milk?” He asks, "I’m trying to watch my dairy, one too many banana milks last week."

“Oh yeah, of course.” Jimin writes down the order to the cup’s label, match frap, sub co mk. “What size?”

“Is there a big price difference? I’m on a kind of tight budget.” 

“It’s a twenty-cent jump from a medium to a large.” Jimin is grateful that he can rely on his usual script while taking orders, not having to fumble for his words as he usually does when having conversations with pretty boys. This fumbling of words is why his different attempts at Tinder or Grindr haven’t eased much of his sexual tension. 

The dark-haired boy grabs the hem of his shirt and plucks it away from being attached to his damp skin, “I’ll go big and get the big.” 

“Ok you like it big- I… I mean, you want a.. a large.” 

Fuck.    Fuck.    FUCK.            F U C K.

Jimin tries his best to swallow his words but they’re already out, all he can do is stay focused on writing onto the label: large. He keeps talking as fast as he can so the other can’t focus on his mess up. 

“Would you like whip?”

“Nah I’m…still watching my dairy,” the boy says. Jimin wants to punch himself.

The boy starts to pump his shirt to get an airflow to his stomach, he seems to be much too focused on how sweaty he is to really care about Jimin’s mess up. Jimin thanks the Gods above for this boy’s lack of an attention span. However, Jimin’s needy eyes constantly want to sabotage Jimin’s normal train of thought; they’re trained on watching how the boy’s flicks of his shirt reveal little glimpses of his tanned skin. His skin is smooth and taught, the V line prominent, daring Jimin’s eyes to travel down to where the boy’s shorts cut off the path. 

Jimin gulps and manages a nod as he writes down,“no whip,” to the cup’s label. 

“Name?” 

Jimin finds it easiest to only stare intently at the cup’s white sticker label, no longer trusting himself to stand face to face with—

“Jungkook.” 

It’s just a name Jimin, a stupid little name of someone You. Don’t. Know. And yet, Jimin’s heart bursts, it flutters, it drops to the pit of his stomach, he’s nervous, excited, the syllables echo, the sound of the other’s voice saying his own name bounces all throughout Jimin’s mind. Jimin doesn’t know why. But oh my god, he’s obsessed. 

“Ok, I’ll get that going for you!” It’s hard to shift back to his customer service voice when it feels like a piano was dropped onto his head. But Jimin manages to get the words out, his fingers are a little shaky and his writing of “JK” is more squiggles than a coherent word. 

Fucking finally. Jimin’s body feels like it’s soaring through the air when he’s able to rush away from the counter to make the boy’s drink. In this little section of the shop he can hide behind the different assortments of protein powders and fruits, it’s not that he’s hiding from Jungkook watching him, it’s that these objects can block Jimin from trying to watch Jungkook.

Jimin’s extra adrenaline lets him speed through making the drink, hopefully to get Jungkook out of his atmosphere as soon as humanly possible. In his rush he almost adds whip when he’s done with the drink but quickly stops himself, instead just adding a lid and straw to the to-go cup. 

He goes up to the other end of the counter, “Jungkook…?”

Jungkook looks up from his phone to see Jimin waiting for him across the small shop and he smiles. That must not have been aimed towards Jimin, right? Jungkook must be happy his drink is done so he can leave… right?

“Thank you,” Jungkook says, still a small smile to his lips. He reaches out and takes the drink from Jimin’s grasp, but his fingers gently brush over Jimin’s as he pulls the drink away. Jimin looks down at the frappe, with Jungkook’s veiny fingers clasping to it, and a few glide over Jimin’s own fingers. Then there’s one little purposeful tap. Or maybe it isn’t purposeful. It might just be a tap. 

Jimin looks up at Jungkook to gage the other’s expression, but Jungkook is already on his way out, completely focused on sucking at the straw to get to the first bit of his matcha. There’s a moment that passes and then Jungkook sways his shoulder and he gives Jimin one last glance before he’s completely gone.

How the fuck is Jimin—Jimin of all fucking people—supposed to comprehend if that was purposeful or a random accidental finger tap, if that was a purposeful or random last glance. Jimin’s insides are in a knot and Jungkook has only been in his life for maybe the better half of ten minutes. 

Jimin watches as Jungkook leaves the gym, holding the door open for some men who walk in, giving some random high fives to other passer-byes in the parking lot until he fades out of view. Jimin feels a large tug of relief when Jungkook is no longer in vision. He doesn’t put two and two together, that this random hottie could as well be the loud nuisance everyone’s been arguing about. 

Jimin just thinks to himself, imagine if that guy was always around! How would I get anything done?! 

He quickly finds out just how fucked he really is. 

 ☕︎

 Even when Jungkook scurries out of the smoothie shop Jimin isn’t rid of the boy. His mind is filled with thoughts of the other, Jungkook’s glistening skin, the soft flesh of his cheeks that contrast to the sharpness to his brow and jaw. Jungkook stars in all of Jimin’s dreams. When Jimin wakes up from yet another one he instantly reaches for his phone to text his best friend Taehyung about it. 

jm: you know the guy who bought the smoothie yesterday?

tae: haha yea ?

jm: i just had a fucking wet dream about him

tae: god jimin you need to get a grip 

jm: how am i supposed to control dream me??? dream me is a bold little fucker 

tae: maybe real life you needs to do something about that 

Jimin leaves Taehyung on read, huffing to himself as he collapses back into his sheets. Jimin usually ignores Taehyung’s antics, the other always has these grandiose ideas of romance and what Jimin’s so-called-sex-life should entail. Jimin typically doesn’t live up to the standard—at least while he’s sober. 

And not even going to work can distract Jimin’s thoughts from finding their way to Jungkook. Because Jungkook could walk in at any second, and Jimin’s heart can’t prepare itself to handle that. Jimin is working his typical one to nine shift, however, it’s Thursday! This means a different gym schedule for Jungkook, one that consists of coming in around one thirty pm, not specifically to ruin Jimin’s entire day, but that is definitely achieved.

In walks Jungkook. Jimin wants to throw himself into his blender and swirl away to a different dimension. He might just have a heart attack.  

Jungkook is on the phone and laughing, strolling through the double doors, still unaware of how much hatred from the staff is directed towards him, and how much fucking lust is emanating from Park Jimin. Jungkook is clad in a new set of workout clothes, gray sweats replacing yesterday’s basketball shorts, and a tight fitting black tank top instead of a loose white t-shirt. The change is very accepted though, in how the tank is tight to Jungkook’s skin, accentuating the broadness of his exposed shoulders as they lead down to his small waist. Jimin doesn’t even notice that he’s licking his lips but he is and god he can’t bring himself to look away.

Jungkook chooses a random chest press machine, close enough to the smoothie shop that he’s within hearing distance of Jimin. Jimin presumes the other doesn’t pay notice to this proximity though, Jungkook seems to be only focused on starting his workout with a simple warm up beside the machine; stretching, and then progressing into a little burst of cardio. Already loud grunts escape him with each jump lunge, and then a whine—that might as well be labeled as a moan—when he finally takes to the machine. Each elongation of his arms with the weight generates an onslaught of sharp little noises that echo and sing their way from Jungkook’s mouth to Jimin’s pierced ear.

Oh. Oh. He’s the guy. Jungkook is the “guy.” The one everyone hates. Go figure. 

Jimin can’t decide if he wants to spontaneously combust at the realization right where he’s standing, or run over to Jungkook and position himself between those spread legs of the dark-haired boy, being the one eliciting those moans. 

Okay, Jimin thinks, I can handle this. This is fine! 

He is very much not fine. 

Luckily, Jimin is distracted from his thinking as a customer comes up to the counter. It’s a tall middle-aged man who massages the bridge of his nose with exhaustion. 

“I’ll have the Raspberry blend,” He says simply, adding a polite smile despite his noticeable irritation. 

Jimin nods with smile, he’s so relieved to be briefly distracted, “Ok! What size—”

“Man, it must be so annoying to work here, huh?”

Jimin is taken aback at the interruption of the order, guys who look like this don’t usually start a conversation with him. But no one else is in line behind him so Jimin isn’t too worried about exchanging some words before getting started on the order.

“What do you mean?”

The man shrugs with a laugh and quickly glances behind himself to the glass wall that showcases the people working out on the other side. “I’m only here sometimes, and at random times ‘cause my schedule is loose… anyway, I swear to God, every time I’m here that kid is also.”

Jimin at first doesn’t know which “kid” the guy is talking about, at first he thinks an annoying child is playing with the workout machines and disturbing the other adult’s workout routines or something. But the man looks behind himself yet again, this time he does a mild gesture to the particular boy he’s talking about, and Jimin’s eyes follow his stare to see Jungkook furiously doing a tricep workout through the glass. 

“Oh!” is all Jimin can say, his voice light as he stumbles over the word. 

The man turns back around to face Jimin, “It must be annoying to always be hearing that guy groan all day, must give you a headache.”

Jimin looks over the man’s shoulder to watch Jungkook for a split second, the muscles in the boy’s arms tensing and releasing as his noises are frequent. He can see how they’d be bothersome to the other gym-goers, especially other straight men. But gosh, the only thing Jimin can think of is: if he makes those kinds of noises while working out... the noises he’d make in other... scenarios... oh man. 

Jimin manages to pull his attention back to the man in front of him, “I guess I’ve just gotten used to it by now.” 

The man nods with a sympathetic little smile. He reaches for his wallet and drops a couple of one’s into Jimin’s tip jar with a wink. “Thanks for entertaining me.”

Jimin blushes and grabs an empty cup, “Ok, so, what size would you like?”

 ☕︎

 The place lulls during the odd hours of afternoon, Jimin can’t remember what he used to do during these lulls. Now he uses these slow hours to lean his elbows against the counter, his cheek resting in his palm as his eyes follow the dark-haired boy as he makes his rounds to the different machines. Jungkook’s breath is hitching, finally becoming erratic after nearly two hours of lifting and weight training. It’s taken him this long to become tired? That endurance… he must last a long time… during his workouts! He lasts a long time for workouts…

Within the haze of his thoughts, Jimin doesn’t notice that very boy his thoughts are revolving around approach the smoothie shop until the taller boy is peering down at Jimin, who’s perched on the counter. Jimin really can’t get away with anything. 

“Uh… hi?” Jungkook says, a light laugh with the words. 

Jimin shuffles to stand up fully, his back aching from leaning for so long. He’s once again staring into Jungkook’s eyes. 

“Is the chocolate protein shake good?” 

“It’s really good,” Jimin practically chokes out. 

Jungkook peers at Jimin with a slight raise of his brow, but doesn’t question Jimin’s words. “Ok cool, I’ll get that in a medium…” Jungkook pauses, looking to Jimin’s apron, “Jimin."

Jimin’s heart stutters with hearing his own name emerge from the dark-haired boy’s lips, he wasn’t prepared for that and his entire dialogue is interrupted. He’s back on that Jungkook bullshit again, desperately wanting to reach out and graze his hand over the boy’s skin, it’s emanating warmth; the sweat hasn’t cooled Jungkook’s skin yet, he’s flushed all over in bursts of pink across the skin that’s displayed. Jimin is whipped. That reminds him:

“Any whip?”

Jungkook chuckles, “I’m still recovering from my banana milk dairy overdose.”

“Right!” 

“Yeah.” 

That’s splendid. Jimin wants to make a cold protein shake, pour it on the floor and lay down in it until he turns into a little chocolate popsicle to no longer exist as part of the human race. It’s not too horrible he forget this specific request for no whip, but in front of Jungkook, he feels the pressure to be completely calm and collected—despite how opposite that is of himself. 

“I’ll get that going for you then…” he says in a rush before hurrying off to once again find salvation behind the assortment of industrial blenders. 

 ☕︎

 The next day it’s a banana shake with oat milk. 

“I had to go back to my fave,” Jungkook laughs, looking especially pleased as he takes a sip.

 ☕︎

 The day after that it’s a gross spinach combo, somehow ginger and orange juice end up together, Jimin’s nose scrunches with disgust as he pours it all into Jungkook’s to-go cup, the “JK” on the label starting to become clearer as Jimin’s nerves around the other boy subside. 

 ☕︎

 Finally it’s his day off. Though the nerves may have begun to subside, his thoughts of Jungkook only become more prominent. Day after day the boy’s face is further ingrained to Jimin’s mind. The different bits of skin that are exposed in his different exercise clothes, the different ways his wet hair can be parted, swept back or plastered to his forehead, cascading across his flushed cheeks or tucked behind his pierced ears. 

jm: i might be obsessed

tae: i knew jimin wasn’t impervious to boys!!!

jm: i can’t stop thinking about him tae 

it’s so bad

idk what to do

tae: kiss!kiss!kiss!kiss!

jm: and then we’ll ride off into the sunset on our unicorn ??

tae: i think you underestimate how much of a bad bitch you are jimin

jm: bad bitches don’t need no mans 

tae: … i think this one does ^

 ☕︎

 The next day Jungkook orders strawberry mango.

Jimin definitely isn’t much of a bad bitch when it comes to watching Jungkook’s lips mold around the straw and take in his first sip. 

His breath must taste of it; of that stupid strawberry mango smoothie. When kissed his lips probably give in, as easy as biting into soft fruit. Maybe they’d emit a soft whine from the roughness, but ultimately be swayed with a sweet breath escaping. His tongue might be citrus, maybe sharp in its sourness; but Jimin wouldn’t be able to pull away, sucked in by Jungkook in how one sucks from a smoothie straw.

 ☕︎

 It increases, Jungkook now gets a smoothie before and after his workout. Some kind of apple and oatmeal concoction going in and a peanut butter mocha after. Jimin begins to worry for this boy’s stomach but he still eats up the time he has with the other while he places order after order, and their fingers always brush when he retrieves his drink. 

 “God, my bank account is suffering,” Jungkook mumbles while sliding his card over to Jimin. 

Jimin flashes his bright smile, a smile that’s rarely seen in normal customer service. It slips across his face easily with Jungkook though. 

 ☕︎

 Another day. 

 ☕︎

 And another. A kid Jungkook’s age shouldn’t be allowed to have this kind of influence on Jimin’s mental sanity. 

 ☕︎

 Jungkook must not know how to chew or something, Jimin thinks during yet another shift at the smoothie shop, but I’m so god damn lucky this boy doesn’t know how to chew. He hardly hears Jungkook approaching him, but it’s now a familiar sight to the shorter boy, it doesn’t make him completely lose his mind. But he can’t stop himself from letting his eyes travel up and down Jungkook’s body to just make sure this is real life. 

 ☕︎

 “We need to make a punch card just for you, Kookie,” Jimin says, a solid month into Jungkook’s frequent smoothie orders. Jimin tests the waters with muttering Jungkook’s nickname under his breath in addition to the statement. Jungkook isn’t phased, per usual. 

“And a longer menu, I think I just ran out of new stuff to order,” he replies, his eyes desperately scouring the menu. 

“Do you still want something?” Jimin asks, his voice so sweet, curling at the end to accentuate the question.

Jungkook looks from the menu back to Jimin’s face. “Any suggestions?”

“I always go back to the matcha frappe, that’s what I told you to order on the first day,” he answers in a coo. The first day. Maybe he shouldn’t have said that, it implies he noticed when the first day was. But… he did. So maybe that isn’t so bad to notice. 

Jungkook’s eyes flash a little sparkle before he ducks his head down with a laugh, his hair falling in front of his face to block Jimin from reading his expression. When Jungkook’s head perks back up he’s regained his composure, only a little smirk still held at his lips. Though not much, this is still some of the most emoting Jimin has received from Jungkook yet. Either the boy is shy or just hard to please, either way, the sight makes Jimin’s insides warm, buzzing like a faulty car going up a steep hill.

“Sounds good, I’ll do that.” 

Jimin gulps with a nod.

Do it? He means have it right? 

Maybe he should just get a new job so all of his senses aren’t attacked every time Jungkook slips up with his words. 

 ☕︎

 “Jimin, hey, are you even paying attention?” Jimin’s dance instructor Hoseok snaps. Jimin shakes his head trying to rid himself of his random thoughts, his vision returning to him as the other student’s heads all turn to look at him. 

“Sorry sorry!” Jimin exclaims, realigning his feet to the proper position to continue. Hoseok’s face is still strained with disappointment but he turns back to the mirror to resume teaching the choreography. This is so unlike Jimin, he’s usually the star pupil, he usually is way ahead of everyone else, practicing any chance he gets after work or on his weekends, before and after practice. Now he’s reduced to a little floating orb of light that can only comprehend thinking Jungkook is hot, Jungkook is hot, Jungkook is hot, on repeat. 

“You’ve been out of it the last couple of classes,” Hoseok says after practice. Though Hoseok is a bit older, and bit more experienced than Jimin, they’ve been dance buddies for years. Hoseok gets fed up easily, snapping frequently, but the second class is over his face returns to the usual peppy expression that’s held to his features. 

Jimin sighs, swiping the few droplets of sweat away from above his lip. “Yeah I’m good, just boy troubles and stuff, y’know.” 

Hoseok laughs, sitting down on the floor and Jimin follows suit. 

“I can relate. Do I know this boy?” Hoseok says, his tone mirroring a parent. 

“Nah, I don’t think so. He’s just a regular at my gym and he’s obsessed with smoothies.” 

“Sounds cute,” Hoseok laughs again.

Jimin can’t even explain how cute it all is. “I think he’s ordered a smoothie from me every day I’ve worked for the last like… month.”

“I don’t know if anyone likes smoothies that much” Hoseok says, “He might just like you.”

Jimin is taken aback, his face contorted in concentrated thought, “Wait… what?”

Hoseok pauses for a moment, waiting for a comedic pause, but there is none, Jimin just stares back at him, dumbfounded. 

“Jimin, oh my god, dude, it’s obvious that he’s only buying that many smoothies to see you every day.” 

Jimin still can’t process what Hoseok is implying. His eyes are wide and mouth held slightly open in an “o” shape. Is he really that dense? Whenever he’s brought Jungkook up to Taehyung he’d thought it was a one-sided crush… something funny to talk and daydream about, but now…

“I know you can be hard on yourself and think no one likes you Jiminie…”

Jimin interrupts him with a scoff, “Aishhhh, Hoseok!”

Hoseok rolls his eyes with a smile, “Jimin, let me finish. I have to break it to you, I think a lot of guys probably really really like you. This smoothie guy is probably of that category. You just never pick up the signals!” 

“I—…” Jimin can’t help but laugh, “I can’t comprehend this entire conversation.” 

Hoseok nudges the other boy’s shoulder, “Maybe he’s just waiting for you to write down your number on his smoothie cup.” 

Jimin internally curses himself out. Despite how idealistic all of this sounds… Hoseok might be right. 

“Honestly, I think you’re giving him too much credit,” Jimin sighs, exasperated as he leans back until laying entirely on the hardwood floor. Hoseok follows suit, resting his head so their hair overlaps on the ground. 

“Who’s gonna be the dick to hit on someone at their job? Maybe he’s just being polite to make sure you actually like him back.” 

Like him back? Can this be real life? Here Jimin has been pining over Jungkook possibly acknowledging his existence, and Hoseok suggests Jungkook’s been the one trying not to overstep Jimin’s boundaries? 

Hoseok interrupts Jimin’s intense train of thought, “Can I at least see a pic of him?” he asks. 

Jimin is glad his thoughts are cut off and the conversation slightly switches subject. He reaches into his pocket to fish out his phone, pulling up Jungkook’s Instagram (which he’s been stalking ever since he found it, about two weeks ago). He hands his phone over to Hoseok, who grabs it eagerly. There’s a brief pause, Hoseok scrolling through the photos on Jungkook’s page until pulling up a specific one of Jungkook while working out. It’s not in the same gym where Jimin works though. 

“I think your smoothie boy needs to lay off the protein shakes,” he says while pinching the screen to zoom in on Jungkook’s bulging biceps and perked chest. Jimin watches, a little fear in his stomach while Hoseok’s fingers manhandle the screen. 

And then. 

“Oh fuck, ah god, I’m sorry Jiminie,” Hoseok exclaims. Jimin’s stomach drops, seeing that Hoseok accidentally liked Jungkook’s photo.

“How far back is it…” Jimin says quietly, his breath hitching. 

“… it’s from 2018.” 

“Fuck.”

Hoseok slowly passes Jimin’s phone back to him, Jimin’s face colorless and his body splayed out across the floor like a broken doll as he accepts his phone from Hoseok. He wants to fucking delete his entire Instagram account, and then the app, and then dump his phone into the ocean. But all he can manage to do is stuff his phone back into his pocket and push away the image of Jungkook receiving the notification from his mind. 

The boys lay there in an awkward silence for a few moments. 

“You definitely have to give him your number now,” Hoseok says. 

 ☕︎

 Jimin grants himself a few more days before trying to make any moves. He lets himself pay more notice to how Jungkook orders, how Jungkook’s eyes graze over his frame, how maybe the other’s breath doesn’t hitch from the workout, but rather in reaction to when Jimin will smile, or when his words are particularly soft. Jimin lets Jungkook continue to drain his bank account on smoothies, trying out every smoothie option on the menu, or combining new flavors to create cursed protein shakes. 

One day Jungkook says, “Just surprise me.” 

On another he almost spits out his drink when he first tastes it, “Is this really orange-pineapple?”

Jimin’s eyes dart around, “Well, yes, but you said to add the kale chips and get rid of the banana, and sub it with greek yogurt.” 

“I really said that?” Jungkook says, shaking his head with a laugh while trying not to purse his lips on the second sip. He’s hardly successful. 

“Ah, Jungkook, aren’t I your hyung?” Jimin presumes. 

Jungkook smiles despite still holding the sour liquid within his mouth, “I don’t know, maybe.”

“I’m twenty four,” Jimin says, smirking as Jungkook playfully shoots his eyes around the room. 

“I’m twenty two…” The younger mumbles. 

“Ah,” Jimin says, “Then as your hyung I’m pretty sure that’s what you said.” This is a new level of sass from Jimin, but he doesn’t doubt himself as Jungkook flushes and can’t meet his eye contact. 

“I think I’m delirious, Jiminie,” Jungkook laughs, Jimin’s nickname slips easily from the other’s lips, but Jungkook doesn’t pause to reconsider it, he’s almost out the door by the time it registers in Jimin’s brain. Jungkook’s voice, the little word, Jiminie. 

Before Jungkook is completely gone he turns back, halting his speed, “Please don’t let me create my own drink again tomorrow, I really can’t be trusted, hyung.”

“Tomorrow,” “Hyung.” 

Even if Jungkook hadn’t said, “Tomorrow,” Jimin would have still presumed that Jungkook would be back again tomorrow, as he is everyday; but to hear Jungkook actually acknowledge it, to reconfirm it, the word sinks into his skin and makes his body feel wobbly. Jungkook is gone before Jimin can respond. He’s always gone so fast, smoothie jostling with the speed, “hyung” left heavy in the air. 

Jimin’s phone dings and he fishes it from his apron discreetly, a text from Hoseok appears. 

jh: Jimin! I am going to intervene as your little guardian angel and declare you make your move with the smoothie boy tomorrow 

Hoseok’s timing is annoyingly on point. 

Jimin whispers to himself, “tomorrow.” It’s all becoming so real to him. The word lingering from Jungkook’s mouth to repeatedly echo in Jimin’s mind, the word on display across his bright phone screen. He doesn’t have much of a choice to avoid it any longer, with “guardian angel” Hoseok getting involved and all. Despite how all his limbs seem to tingle and his mind fogs up as if filled with tv static, tomorrow is better than never. 

 ☕︎

 The tomorrow in which Jungkook and Hoseok were referring comes too quickly for Jimin’s liking. It’s Jimin’s normal shift today of one to nine pm, and for a few hours he can busy himself with an onslaught of customers and Namjoon breathing down his neck on occasion. It’s not until seven pm rolls around that Jungkook marches through the gym’s double doors. Now that Jungkook is here and that means Jimin will actually have to follow through with making his move, all Jimin wants is to recoil into his skin and simply become invisible. He especially wants to be invisible due to how his eyes can’t stop staring at Jungkook. The dark-haired boy is wearing an all gray puma tracksuit, the top rolled up at the sleeves, the bottoms loose on his legs but tight at his hips. Jimin prays Jungkook doesn’t toss a glance over to him because he swears he’s melting where he’s standing. If it weren’t for his taught apron tugging at the small of his waist he believes he’d be a puddle by now. Luckily, Jungkook is lazily scrolling his phone like usual, his brow flexed and mouth in a pout until he laughs and double-taps the screen. He’s a simple boy and Jimin eats it up.

But Jimin does wonder why he was so late today, Jungkook is more of a morning workout person (well unless that’s not when Jimin is working), if not, then he’s an afternoon person at least. Jimin tries not to dwell on it, busying himself with scrubbing the blenders and pre-chopping some vegetables. Then the noises start to pick up. When they do, other gym-goers instantly make their way to the exit doors, making sure to send a stabbing glare to Jungkook’s direction before marching off. Jungkook is busying himself on the rowing machine, paying no attention. 

Jungkook’s two-hour workout feels especially long tonight, Jimin can’t find anything to do with himself while fewer and fewer customers come in every hour, the gym doesn’t even slow down but who’s buying a smoothie at eight pm? Well, certainly no one in this fucking gym. 

Jimin wants to run in little circles as his fear tingles up into his chest. With each passing minute he becomes more antsy and easily startled. He needs to focus on his breathing, controlling it and slowing it down. He stands still, with his eyes shut, and works on taking in a full deep breath, and then letting it out slowly. 

Of course this is when Jungkook decides he’s done for the night. He strolls in with his usual languid demeanor to find Jimin quietly huffing and puffing to himself in the far corner of the shop. 

Jungkook clears his throat.

Jimin nearly topples over at the interruption, definitely ruining all of his attempts at controlling his heart rate. It’s soaring through the roof as he slowly makes his way out of his corner and closer to Jungkook. 

“It’s not too late to order… right?” Jungkook says, his voice dripping. Maybe it is the night time that makes his voice sound deeper and more powerful, or maybe it’s Jimin’s mind being dosed in copious amounts of oxygen.

Jimin glances to the overhead clock, eight fifty-five. He’s off in five minutes. 

“No, you’re good,” Jimin says in a burst. 

“Cool. Can I have the matcha frappe please?”

“Isn’t this your third time?” Jimin exclaims with a laugh, regaining his composure. 

“Hey, third times a charm,” Jungkook says, raising up his hands with a shrug. “And I’m starting to be fond of the coconut milk.”

Jimin can’t muster a response, only nodding and gesturing for Jungkook’s card. Jungkook grabs it from his wallet and hands it over, but Jimin tries to grab it too early, his fingers cascading over Jungkook’s and jumping away at the touch. The card falls to the counter and they both stare at it, neither raising their gaze to the other. Jimin, in a tizzy, finally grabs for it and hastily slides it through the system. 

“I’ll have it out for you real soon,” Jimin says, his voice hushed as he hands Jungkook’s card back to him. 

“Thank you, Jimin,” Jungkook says. His voice is deep and he doesn’t hesitate a syllable, it’s all purposeful, but his expression shows otherwise, of a little boy trying to run away from his words. He grabs his card and scurries off to one of the stools to wait, his body slouching over and his loose clothing hiding most of his frame. 

This is Jimin’s chance, he quickly blends the tea and ice, but before he pours it into the cup he writes on the label. While Jungkook is relaxed and on his phone like any other day, Jimin feels like he’s spinning counter-clockwise on a foreign planet. A planet where his knees want to give way because gravity pulls at them too harshly. He double-checks the label, the scribbling is legible enough, and the drink’s condensation hasn’t completely soaked through the paper to have it curled and wrinkled on itself. It’ll do. It’s the best he can do. 

Jimin’s heart might not actually be beating as he sets the drink at the end of the counter, spinning it so the label is on full display to Jungkook. Either his heart isn’t beating at all, or it’s beating at the speed of a hummingbird, far faster than Jimin can even process. All he can do is stand there awkwardly, his fingers intertwined and his chest heaving in little bursts. 

Jungkook is nonchalant as he approaches the counter, his breathing far more controlled than Jimin’s despite being the one who just recently finished up an intense workout. For a second it seems Jungkook doesn’t pay notice to the label, Jimin backs away, preparing to not say a single word about it and let the other leave. But then Jungkook’s hand slides along the cup and he does a double-take, noticing all of the extra writing. Jimin is completely still, eyes trying to find anything else to focus on besides Jungkook, and yet they are plastered to him, unable to look away as the other reads the cup. 

“would u teach me how to lift? i’m free after 9” The label reads. 

Jungkook looks up from the label to look at Jimin, then his head turns to the clock: nine o’ one pm. Jimin’s heart is fluttering so much he thinks he might take flight. 

“You’re free?” is all Jungkook asks, a small smile growing across his face. 

“Mhm,” Jimin answers, his voice tiny. 

This whole “tomorrow” thing turns out to be really working in Jimin’s favor. 

 ☕︎

 Oh so Jungkook is actually set on teaching him how to lift…ok. 

“You can start with just the bar, it’s about forty pounds, so it’ll give you a good idea of where you’re at.”

Jimin’s wide eyes are trained on watching Jungkook explain this all to him, while he has his experience in dance he’s never been too fond of weightlifting or muscle building. Jungkook, on the other hand, is avidly displaying the angles at which hands and arms and feet should be when lifting. Jimin just likes to hear the other’s voice for such longer bursts than the usual smoothie order, so he lets the younger boy drawl on excitedly. 

“Ok, so, you got all that?” 

He definitely got none of it but he gives Jungkook an exuberant nod to please the other. He takes his turn under the bar, first positioning his feet for a wide squat and then his hands grab the textured part of the bar indicating where to hold. Jungkook’s eyes are all over him, maybe contemplating his form, or just to take him in. Under the gaze Jimin feels light and airy, his blinking erratic as he looks back at himself in the mirror. 

“Your form is really good,” Jungkook says quietly, “Are you ready to try it out?”

“M’yeah,” Jimin answers, swaying slightly in anticipation. He slowly bends slightly down to dislodge the bar from where it’s held, holding it on his shoulders. Forty pounds is a lot heavier than Jimin thought it would be, it presses into his skin and he shuffles under the weight, trying to remain in position to do the squat. 

“Woah, woah, is this good, are you ok?” Jungkook says, reaching out for Jimin, his hands curling around Jimin’s waist. Jimin freezes from the contact, the bar no longer wiggling in his hold, his legs no longer shaking. The touch of Jungkook both exhilarates him and stables him. Jimin’s head slowly turns to Jungkook, the bar pressing at an awkward angle but he ignores it.

“I’ll just help you with this first one,” Jungkook says, his voice resembling more of a whisper than a normal volume. His hands don’t leave Jimin’s waist, instead they curl tighter, urging the other to begin his descent. Jimin lets his body ease into the squat, focusing on the strain to his thighs, the weight at his shoulders, the tension to his back, his soft face contorted into seriousness. Jungkook moves with him, squatting behind him to showcase the movement to it. Jimin pauses, holding the squat, “This is the right form?”

Jungkook releases his hold on Jimin to walk around and view him from the side. Jungkook’s touch so quickly leaving makes Jimin realize just how desperate he’s been all this time to be held. He wants to whine with the loss of contact, but manages to control his face to remain neutral. Jungkook evaluates him for a moment, his eyes trailing down the other’s slightly arched back and thighs that threaten to quake. Jungkook reaches out to him and traces along Jimin’s flexed forearms, up to his rounded bicep and further until his fingers meet with the cold metal along Jimin’s neck. The slight graze alights Jimin’s skin, the subtleness to it, and yet so tender. Where Jungkook touched there are surges of heat. 

“You’re perfect—… I mean, your form is perfect,” Jungkook says quickly, his face losing some of its composure. Jimin smiles to himself, his face hidden behind his bangs as he raises himself back up to standing. Maybe Jungkook had been just waiting for an invitation from Jimin, a scrawled proclamation of what they both kept meaning to say. 

Jimin puts the bar back into place, stretching out his muscles with a sigh. “Well, that was a good first day of lifting, lots of hard work and many hours put in.”

Jungkook laughs, extending his arm for a fist bump. 

A fist bump. Really? Jimin wants to throw himself under all the dumbbells and be crushed to death. He returns the fist bump, begrudgingly though, and offers a pathetic little smile. 

“Do you work tomorrow?” Jungkook asks. 

Jimin steps away from the entire metal contraption and sits on the bench beside it, eyeing up Jungkook who stands before him. 

“I do,” he answers. 

“Do you want to try a different workout after your shift?” Jungkook has a hard time meeting Jimin’s gaze, his eyes focused on the floor, watching his feet scuff across the tile. 

“I’m not actually that interested in getting into weight lifting, it’s not really my forte…” Jimin mumbles. He’s scared Jungkook is truly thinking that his little smoothie cup label was a legitimate request for a personal trainer of sorts. Jimin feels like such the idiot and just wants to remove himself from the entire scenario and go to bed. 

“Ah, really Jimin? I was hoping I could stop spending money on smoothies to see you…”

The words cut into Jimin and he turns to Jungkook in alarm, Jungkook yet again hides from Jimin’s stare, shuffling his feet and pretending to pick at his fingernails. Jimin is at a loss for words, his tongue feeling dry and his lips opening and closing trying to find a noise to emerge from them. 

“To s-see me?” He finally manages to stutter out. 

Jungkook laughs sitting down on the bench, but still a good three feet between them. The distance feels thick and obvious, Jimin wishing he were bolder to scoot closer but remaining planted exactly where he’d sat down. 

“Didn’t you ask me to teach you how to lift so you could see me?” Jungkook retorts. 

“Well—” Jimin wants to continue but Jungkook’s hand slides across the bench and Jimin pays too much attention to it to finish his comeback. Jungkook’s hand sits between them, idle, the boy calculating Jimin’s response. Jimin’s face doesn’t convey too much, mostly shock, but then his eyes glaze over as they raise to look back at Jungkook. Jungkook closes the gap and his hand skates over Jimin’s. Jungkook’s palm is rougher than Jimin’s soft skin, probably worn out from all the weights constantly in his grasp. Jimin can’t do much of anything, just watching as Jungkook’s larger hand rests on his own, at ease. It’s a soft sensation, of mild touch, of minor contact, but it still creates a flare of heat within Jimin’s small frame, his cheeks flushing and eyes darting about. It’s hectic and strange and Jungkook’s touch is still so foreign… but so welcomed. 

“I don’t think my account or my stomach can handle many more smoothies Jiminie.”

Jimin bites his lip and his wrist twists so that his fingers intertwine around Jungkook. Their breathing is hushed and slow, Jungkook’s fingers react willingly to fully hold Jimin’s hand.  Jimin isn’t familiar with being so forward, so bold, it all feels sudden but he likes it. 

“I don’t think I can handle watching you drink any more godawful smoothies, Jungoo,” he finally replies, gaging Jungkook’s reaction. Jungkook hums, a smile forming that’s brighter than any of his previous smiles. 

“I’m glad we can agree on that.” 

 ☕︎

 Jimin isn’t mad when the next day comes about quickly. Though a tension is still in his stomach it is more promising. It’s his first day of work without one specific boy coming by to order a smoothie early into Jimin’s shift. Jimin misses the interaction, while before it had plagued him and sent shivers down his spine, now he craves the feeling. His demeanor perks up when Jungkook shows up two hours before his shift ends; the evening light is behind Jungkook, the slight semblance of golden hour surrounding his shoulders. It’s a heavenly image, the boy moves nearly in slow motion, the lighting displays the outline of all Jungkook’s fly away hairs in contrast to his dark silhouette. The gym’s speakers have some random pop song blaring on in the background, but Jungkook deserves a much cooler soundtrack to accompany his runway style walk. 

Usually, Jungkook doesn’t shift his attention over to Jimin when he first comes in, he usually seems focused on getting started with his workout, AirPods in and gaze trained to his phone or already focused to what machine he’s planning to use. Today, Jungkook’s head turns to Jimin standing behind his little counter. Jungkook smiles, it isn’t strained, it isn’t a second thought, it comes easily and doesn’t fade for a while. Jimin stands stiff and expressionless until he raises his hand up do give Jungkook a little wave. Jungkook laughs then, waving back before wandering off to the far wing of the gym, out of Jimin’s view.

 ☕︎

 Jimin cleans up the shop in a hurry as the clock ticks down to nine, he scrubs furiously at the strawberry stains and tries to control his hand as it writes the new specials down in cursive. Namjoon is hovering somewhere nearby, finally emerging from his little side office to as well prepare for closing. 

“That loud kid didn’t come by for a smoothie today,” Namjoon says, Jimin spins to face his boss. “I hope that doesn’t continue, he’s loud but he’s good for business.”

Jimin smiles, but he knows he can’t make any promises on Jungkook’s behalf—or Jungkook’s dad for that matter, thinking of how drained his income must be funding Jungkook’s devious endeavors. 

 ☕︎

 Jungkook is leaning against the open door frame of the smoothie shop when it finally reaches nine. Jimin rushes to him, giddy like a child approaching a large display of candy. Jungkook’s eyes do a once over across Jimin’s body, the loose shirt Jimin is wearing under his apron today, his black skinny jeans to abide by the dress code. Jungkook takes in the other’s appearance like he’s grammy awards ready, clad in a tailored designer suit. 

“Hi,” Jungkook says, the word dropping his mouth amidst a harsh exhale. Jimin presumes it to be due to his workout, unaware of how flustered the other really is. 

“Hi,” he answers. 

It shouldn’t feel this easy, to ignore the fear that coils within his stomach, to not mind his messed up breathing pattern, but it is easy. They walk beside each other like they’ve walked with each other for years. It’s never been like this for Jimin before, giving into his feelings, to follow through with them, maybe this is how his friends who’ve been in more serious relationships have felt this whole time. Like it should be easy. And all of a sudden, Jimin can understand. 

Jungkook leads them to a corner where a lot of elliptical machines are lined up. 

“To warm up,” Jungkook says. Jimin isn’t so fearful of this machine, he’s more familiar with cardio workouts and hops on without hesitation. 

“Wanna do a mile?” Jimin asks, and Jungkook looks at him with an excited smile. Jimin likes that the other is competitive, matching his pace, matching his form, their legs moving in unison. Jungkook is so… obliging, so friendly, it seems like a lot of the walls he originally put up have been broken, revealing an energetic twenty-something-year-old with a smile always waiting to form. 

They both come to a stop at the same time when they reach a mile, Jungkook’s beyond sweaty now, and Jimin feels a slight dampness at his forehead. They hurriedly get off the machines, and Jungkook notices Jimin’s slight glaze of sweat. He approaches Jimin, his gaze soft and eyes trained to the other’s flushed skin and little airy breaths. Jungkook hasn’t seen Jimin look like this before, he’s usually so composed within the smoothie shop, while Jungkook is the one to always look wrecked. He slowly brings up the back of his hand and it glides across Jimin’s forehead. 

“There you go,” Jungkook says, his hand withdrawing from Jimin’s skin. The graze doesn’t help cool off Jimin’s skin, it only flares a heat across his face. And Jungkook’s words snap something in Jimin, something switches. The subtleness to the gesture, the softness of his touch along Jimin’s skin. “There you go,” because Jungkook wants to make sure Jimin feels comfortable. Jimin feels his breathing surge, much like a swelling tide, he feels like his heartbeat is at the back of his throat. Without a second thought, without letting his mind overwhelm him or the sight of Jungkook intimidate him, he lets himself lean closer and fill the gap between them. His hands clasp to Jungkook’s face, pulling the other to meet his kiss. For a moment, Jungkook is still, his eyes wide and his body frozen. Jimin becomes alarmed and pulls away, their lips only a few inches apart and Jimin’s eyes glazed over. 

“Can I kiss you?” Jimin asks, regretting not asking before and hoping he didn’t ruin everything. At first, Jungkook only stares blankly, and then with a sheepish smile and his eyes slowly glossing over as well, he nods. 

“Yes… yes.”

Jungkook initiates it this time, with his head tilting closer so his soft mouth can take in Jimin’s bottom lip, sucking it in and swallowing the slight noise that escapes from Jimin. Jungkook really does taste sweet, and his tongue soon curls into the kiss, swirling within Jimin’s mouth like strawberries clashing with oranges. It’s enveloping and it finally quiets some part of Jimin’s mind he didn’t know existed. Their hands are scattered across each other, tugging to pull clothing closer, brushing over the soft flesh of shoulders or cheekbones. 

It’s nearly perfect, except for the setting could have been more idealistic. The ellipticals surrounding them, and whatever the gym is playing over the speakers, is a little out of place for their dramatic first kiss. But it makes Jimin feel more comfortable; it feels familiar, he knows this side of Jungkook, the side that will drain his account to kiss Jimin, and never wear anything besides workout clothes. 

 ☕︎ ☕︎ ☕︎

Chapter Management

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Chapter 2: banana milk

Notes:

So... here's all the smut I promised... along with the fluff I also promised

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The first time Jimin sees Jungkook in normal clothes is on their first date. He hops into Jungkook’s car and for a moment is slightly taken aback to see the boy in all black streetwear: black t-shirt, black pants and black sneakers. It’s almost intimidating, with Jungkook’s piercings catching the light and his hair actually somewhat styled to contrast how wet and disheveled it usually is. Jimin looks much softer in comparison, wearing a white button-down and blue jeans, his bangs brushing over his eyebrows. 

“Is it eating time?” Jimin asks sweetly, turning in his seat to look at Jungkook who’s relaxed behind the wheel. 

“Yes, finally some real food.”

“Noodles?”

Jungkook smiles, “Yes,” he murmurs past his grin. 

Jimin feels his stomach leap in hunger and anticipation as they drive, Jungkook’s car is intense, its air conditioning blasts at Jimin until his hair is messed up beyond salvation. He doesn’t mind though, he leans back and lets himself relax, Jungkook turns on some random music that drowns out the road and traffic noises. Jungkook looks almost more in his element behind the wheel than he does at the gym—if that’s possible. Maybe he just pulls off every atmosphere. Jimin watches as the other boy shifts gears, merges into traffic, slowly lets his leg press onto the gas when they reach the freeway. Though his legs are concealed in black pants, Jimin can see how Jungkook’s muscles tense when he breaks or applies speed through a turn. It’s a cautious movement, controlled and calculated, Jungkook has a certain control to himself that gives off a confidence Jimin admires. 

“You’re a good driver, Jungkook-ah,” Jimin says, eyeing the other tentatively. Jungkook flushes, his powerful demeanor shattering to expose how easily flustered he can become.

“Thank you hyung.”

Jimin’s words affect him in a specific way. Though they always come out light and sweet, he knows Jimin is careful with what he says. When he does speak it means something, and Jungkook can only shrug under the attention from the older boy. 

 ☕︎

 The noodles are gone quickly, with Jimin holding a pleased expression, licking his lips and pushing the empty bowl to the middle of the table. 

“Did you eat well?” Jungkook asks, as well finishing off his dinner of lamb and rice. 

Jimin nods, his smile not fading as he leans on his elbows to get closer to Jungkook’s side of the table. “And I’ll pay too, how does that sound?” He asks in a playful tone. 

It’s an entirely new side to Jimin that comes out after he’s eaten well. His face plastered with a smirk as sweet as a strawberry, his eyes nearly shut in the contortion. Jungkook indulges in it, in the sight, in the words that coo from Jimin’s glossy lips. He plays up his intrigue in response, matching Jimin’s posture by resting his chin on his fist with his elbows digging into the table. 

“My dad would certainly adore you for giving my bank account a rest.”

“Your dad?” Jimin laughs. 

“And me too,” Jungkook says while he looks away, flustered, his stomach rumbling with digestion. Jimin’s entire being distracted him, his thoughts staggering off, ruining all chances at trying to find a witty comeback.

Jimin startles when his phone buzzes suddenly. He quickly retrieves it, smiling at Jungkook to excuse the interruption. 

tae: how’s the date going stud 

Jimin rolls his eyes. 

Jungkook quirks a brow, “Who is it?”

“Just my friend Taehyung,” Jimin answers, shoving his phone away without responding. 

“What’s he up to?”

“Just… y’know…” Jimin laughs as he trails off, his face flushing, “Checking in on us.”

Jungkook’s nose scrunches with his shy smile, “Making sure you’re still alive and I’m not a serial killer?”

Jimin scoffs, “More like… congratulating me on not being a pussy and actually going on a date with you.” 

He can’t believe he actually says this. He tries to back away before the words escape him but they’re out before he can manage to shut his mouth. He doesn’t even mention the use of the word “stud” in Taehyung’s texts, the word just making Jimin want to laugh at his name even being compared to that of a stud. 

Jungkook’s ears perk hearing Jimin’s words, leaning forward until the table presses into his abdomen. “Don’t people….want to take you out like allthe time?” 

Jimin’s face turns perplexed, his eyes darting about like he’s on some hidden camera show getting pranked. 

“What? Definitely not.” 

Jungkook’s face turns from that of joking, to now more serious and questioning. 

“I swear, a thousand guys have probably tried to flirt with you at the smoothie shop.”

Jimin pouts, his mind trying to make sense of everything Jungkook is saying. “I would seriously doubt that.”

“Jimin… do you not realize how pretty you are? And sweet? I’m not some smoothie maniac, I came to your shop everyday to hopefully make an impression on you amongst all the other guys who must flirt with you all the time.”

Jimin goes completely silent, his mouth agape and he feels how his face slowly turns bright red, the heat pulsing under his skin. 

“I didn’t want to be just another guy who bombards you with gross flirting while you try to work, or push my number at you just to get blocked,” Jungkook’s eyes dart around the scenery of the restaurant, trying to find the right words, trying not to scare Jimin off, “I only bought so many smoothies ‘cause every time I’d go into that damned shop all my courage melted away when I saw your face.”

“Jungkook—” Jimin tries to find the right words to pull from his frazzled jumble of thoughts, he tries to reach his hands towards Jungkook’s but they feel like they’re made of lead. 

“I’m… I’m really glad you wrote that note to me on my cup, I don’t think I would have ever had the guts.” 

Jimin wants to melt, but finally in a good way. In a way not like a puddle to the ground, but instead, like thick honey, pouring over every surface as his body is enveloped in the warmth of Jungkook’s words, the other’s voice surrounding him and devouring until he only exists to be covered in the sound.

“I was really nervous,” Jimin finally says, sheepish, trying to hide his face from view—if only his bangs were longer. 

Jungkook’s hands reach out and find Jimin’s, his fingers coiling around the other’s, and squeezing as his response. 

“Tell Taehyung you’re the coolest, most bold and forward man I’ve ever met,” Jungkook jokes, but his eyes are warm with affection. 

Jimin just bats away the praise but knows he’ll rant about all of this to Taehyung later. 

 ☕︎

 With Jimin and Jungkook now “dating,” (or “talking,” or whatever they are), they interact less often at the gym. Jungkook doesn’t try to fit his workouts into Jimin’s work schedule, his workouts only sometimes accidentally overlapping with Jimin’s shifts. On those spontaneous occasions Jimin blows a kiss or Jungkook comes up to the counter to exchange a few words if there isn’t a line. Namjoon eyes up Jungkook, waiting for the boy to make an order but Jungkook doesn’t—his bank account exhausted enough after his long month of a nearly entirely smoothie diet—this results in Namjoon shaking his head with disappointment and returning back to his little side office. It’s nice for them to operate on separate schedules, it allows Jimin to not feel so distracted all the time, he can think of other things besides Jungkook. That doesn’t mean he’s successful though, his “boyfriend,” or whatever they’re going to call it, still plasters himself all over Jimin's mind. At least Jungkook’s loud noises aren’t constantly disrupting Jimin from working. 

After a movie one night Jungkook drops Jimin off at his apartment, the night’s warm summer air lingering in the space between them. It’s a Tuesday, but summer days don’t feel any different from each other, always warm and always holding promises for the night. 

“When can I see you next?” Jungkook drawls, his words slow and heavy, as if Jimin isn’t listening. 

“Ahh, I work late tomorrow… you don’t have to come by the gym a second time to pick me up since you like working out in the morning.”

“Day after tomorrow I have a really early morning test too aghhhh,” Jungkook sighs with an exasperated posture, “So I can’t stay out late tomorrow either…”

“So… maybe three days from now? Friday?” Jimin asks, his pitch dropping in his sadness. Jungkook quickly grabs the older’s chin, holding it tenderly to evaluate Jimin’s upset expression. 

“Hey, we can FaceTime and text, and you know I’ll be thinking of you,” Jungkook says. 

Jimin pouts, but Jungkook doesn’t tolerate it, to see Jimin sad. His fingers squish the soft skin of Jimin’s cheeks, bringing the other’s face closer to his. Jungkook’s breath hovers over Jimin’s lips. 

“Can I kiss you?”

Since their first kiss they both enjoy asking the other before they kiss. It’s not that neither of them are willing, they both desperately look forward to kissing each other, but it’s something about the wait, the pause before the touch. 

Jimin’s eyes flutter shut, and he doesn’t need to say anything, leaning in to reach Jungkook’s lips that engulf his. It’s breathy and slow, it tastes like movie popcorn, and it never lasts long enough for their fill. 

“Okay…” Jimin sighs. His fingers crave to reach out and pull Jungkook closer to him again, despite the heat in the air he craves the warmth of the other. He lets Jungkook leave though, waiting at his door to catch how Jungkook always turns back to give one last glance to Jimin before actually leaving. It’s a little thing, but in its simplicity, it satisfies Jimin’s heart. 

 ☕︎

 His fucking coworker’s dog gets the flu again. Maybe she just needs to get a different dog, Jimin thinks, begrudgingly, as he walks into the smoothie shop at six-in-the-fucking-am. He’s so sleep-deprived and angry he forgets entirely of Jungkook’s frequent morning workouts. So when Jungkook walks into the gym—three hours into Jimin’s shift— at a crisp nine o’clock, Jimin is quite taken aback. Jungkook doesn’t even notice Jimin behind the counter, not expecting Jimin to be working right now (Jimin wishes he wasn’t working). Jungkook is wearing a large hoodie that blocks most of his peripheral vision, his head bent down as he focuses on his rapid texting. While Jungkook walks right past Jimin’s shop, Jimin’s phone buzzes.

jk <3: missing u Minnie, wishing i could see ur face :(((

Jimin wants to audibly laugh, looking up from his screen to see Jungkook’s little hooded head give his phone a satisfied nod before walking off out of sight. Jimin smiles to himself, texting back. 

jm: can’t wait to see u <33333

If only Jungkook knew.

 ☕︎

 Two hours later Jimin can hear that Jungkook is almost done with his workout. From quite far into the gym Jungkook’s low noises increase in loudness and sound more and more strained. Jimin looks to the clock, it’s only a few minutes into eleven am, he’s due for his lunch break right now, having already passed his fifth hour. Namjoon doesn’t really care when Jimin takes his lunch, or if he even takes one at all, but corporate forces him to mandate that all his employees do. Jimin turns his attention from the clock to see Namjoon standing behind him. 

“Please go take your lunch,” the older says with a sigh, making sure to watch Jimin punch out before he takes his place at the counter.

Jimin smiles innocently at him as he walks out of the smoothie shop, “See you in forty-five minutes, hyung!” He coos, and Namjoon just rolls his eyes, but can’t help to smile in return. 

Jimin glides along the gym’s tiled flooring, making his way down the different paths of gym equipment, past the ellipticals where he’d first kissed Jungkook, and further until he sees the younger walking into the locker room. Jimin follows light on his feet, his apron still tight at the small of his waist. 

When Jimin enters the locker room behind the still unaware Jungkook, the place is quiet. It’s hard to make himself be quiet, though he’s usually delicate with his feet, his nerves get to him and he stumbles slightly. Jungkook’s head whips around and he rushes to Jimin with a look of pure surprise. His entire body is glazed with a sheen of sweat, the smell so intoxicatingly Jungkook. Jimin is overtaken by it and feels like he could swoon within the grasp of the other boy. 

“Jimin!” Jungkook exclaims, his fingers instantly enjoying the feeling of holding the bare skin of Jimin’s arm. Jimin smiles, his hands as well wrapping around any part of Jungkook he can hold, every part feeling taught and hard after having just worked out. 

“My schedule got changed,” is all Jimin can say before his patience wears thin. He doesn’t bother asking Jungkook if he can kiss him because as his head leans closer, Jungkook meets him in the middle without hesitation. Their kiss is heavier than any of the few they’ve shared before. It’s harsher, with their clash of teeth and frantic movements. 

It’s a time of day when the gym’s occupancy lulls yet again (its far past when people work out before work, and not yet the time for people working out after work) an in-between time when everything echos and it feels like the entire room was meant for only Jimin and Jungkook.

Jungkook walks them backward, bringing their connected bodies farther into the empty locker room. Jungkook’s hands are greedy to hold more and more of Jimin, the pads of his fingers grazing over any skin that’s exposed, his legs in between Jimin’s to close any distance that still remains. 

“The sauna,” Jimin says, his breathing uneven and a devious smile forming at the corners of his mouth. Jungkook’s own excitement escalates, Jimin’s boldness heightening the tension that rises between them. 

“The sauna,” Jungkook reaffirms, only to be tugged by Jimin in its’ direction. Jungkook’s heart is racing, following behind Jimin, his sore thighs threatening to give out while Jimin is just starting to wake up for the day. 

They enter the sauna carefully and quietly to make sure no old naked men are in it. It is empty, quiet except for the sound of the coals sizzling against water. The franticness is gone, Jimin is slow now, almost circling Jungkook in a predatory manner. Jungkook stands stiff and still, watching as Jimin unties his apron. And then his shirt is off too. Jungkook’s eyes feel low, maybe the heat is getting to him, or it could be Jimin. 

It’s definitely Jimin. 

Jimin approaches the younger in a manner unlike himself, his eyes grazing over every inch of Jungkook, swaying his hips and his fist tossing his t-shirt to one of the random wood benches. 

“Jungkook…” Jimin says, his pitch is lower than Jungkook has ever heard it. Jimin leans closer and leaves a light kiss to the curve of Jungkook’s neck. The wetness of Jimin’s mouth is cold against Jungkook’s hot skin, sending a shiver rippling down his spine at the contact. 

“Yes hyung…?” he manages to answer amidst the fog of lust that clouds his mind and chokes down the volume to his voice. It comes out as a whisper, and Jimin loves how much power he has over the younger. If the Jimin from a month ago could see him now…

“I want to make you feel good,” Jimin replies. Jungkook noticeably gulps, which only urges Jimin’s mouth to find its’ way to Jungkook’s throat. He nips at the supple flesh, then his tongue traces down the expanse, and back up again, to find its’ way to behind Jungkook’s ear, “I want to make you feel so good.”

Jungkook shudders, his frame pressed against the door, his body leaving an obvious silhouette against the foggy glass. He wants Jimin so bad, he wants Jimin to touch every part of him, he wants to feel his skin against his hyung’s, it’s all so much he can’t find the right words fast enough. 

Jimin takes in Jungkook’s earlobe, nibbling at it, tugging at the younger’s piercing he has between his teeth. 

“Do you want me to touch you Jungkook?” 

The question is easy for Jungkook to answer, finally, he’s capable of a response, giving a hurried nod. His eyes are almost entirely shut, but he forces them to stay open to take in the sight of Jimin, to see how Jimin’s body leans against his, how his fingers slide down Jungkook’s chest only to stop to tug at his sweatpants’ strings. 

“This is alright?” Jimin asks, holding onto Jungkook’s hips so the loose sweats don’t immediately slide off. A soft moan escapes Jungkook, his hands reaching out to brush through Jimin’s dampening hair. 

“God yes.”

That is all Jimin needs. He makes quick work to let Jungkook’s sweats fall to his ankles, his underwear tight across his thick and muscled thighs. Jimin takes off Jungkook’s hoodie next, the younger’s hair tousled, already looking like sex hair. All of Jungkook’s skin is burning up, Jimin finds it intoxicating, heat emanating off the other as Jimin trails little cold kisses across his lover’s collarbones and shoulders. His breath along Jungkook’s skin is refreshing, smelling of the smoothie shop to contrast the smell of cedar all around them.

The smoothie shop, the smell makes Jungkook’s heart flutter, somehow the cute boy from the smoothie shop is kissing down his skin, still smelling of mangos and banana. How did he manage to end up here? What good deed of his landed him this kind of karma? His fingers curl tighter in Jimin’s hair, tugging the other to kiss him, just to make sure this is all real and actually happening to him. Jimin meets the kiss, hard, it’s definitely real, with the slight pain of the older biting at Jungkook’s bottom lip. 

Jungkook’s low and broken moan echoes throughout the room. 

Finally, the noise isn’t from working out, Jimin made that moan, and his confidence only grows seeing how wrecked Jungkook has already become. He wants to ruin Jungkook, to pull out every noise the boy could possibly make, he feels hungry in his desire. 

“Come here,” Jimin says as he breaks the kiss, a string of saliva still connecting their lips. 

“Mhm…” Jungkook says in a delirium as Jimin leads him to sit on one of the warm wood benches, his back leaning to rest on the benches behind him. He’s relieved to not have to stand anymore, he honestly thought his legs would give out in only a matter of time. Now his limbs are relaxed, he watches how Jimin’s eyes turn dark, only slivers of light flashing across the other’s irises from the embers each time they spark and crackle. Jungkook’s breathing is flighty and hitches, even more, when he watches Jimin descend to his knees in front of Jungkook’s spread legs. 

It’s a sight, finally, Jimin’s hair isn’t well kept—to match that of Jungkook’s—it’s splayed across his face, hiding some of the sweetness that’s usually plastered to his face. He’s seductive now, inching towards Jungkook, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. And yet, even in this dark atmosphere, Jimin has a way about him, of being so sexy but still cute. In how his little shoulders wiggle as he crawls closer and closer, his cheeks are round and flushed. Jungkook is already too far gone to handle the scene in front of him, he lets his head lull back when he feels Jimin begin to scatter kisses up the inside of his thighs. 

It’s a sight, Jungkook in front of Jimin, his legs nearly quivering with each kiss that nears closer and closer to his bulge. Jimin loves that Jungkook can’t contain himself, how his legs keep trying to spread wider and wider to give Jimin better access, how his throat bobs with each whimper that escapes him, how he can see Jungkook’s cock twitch within the restraints of his underwear. Jimin finally reaches his destination, Jungkook already completely hard despite no contact. Jimin makes sure to look up at Jungkook, securing their eye contact as his mouth begins to suck at the fabric. Jungkook can’t help but buck his hips from Jimin’s mouth suckling at him, he mewls as his eyes threaten to flutter completely shut. 

“Eyes on me, Jungkook,” Jimin says. He’s set on watching how Jungkook reacts to his every touch. Jungkook bites at his lower lip, not able to do anything with himself as Jimin’s mouth slobbers over his concealed cock. 

“I can taste you already, Jungoo…” Jimin says, his mouth kissing and then sucking in the clothed head that is leaking pre-cum. Jungkook practically barks when the heat from Jimin’s mouth surrounds his cock, the underwear rubbing at his sensitive skin. 

“Please, Jiminie…” Jungkook says, voice already ruined, coming out low and gravely. 

Jimin doesn’t want to make Jungkook beg, that isn’t his intent, he only wants to please Jungkook, show how good it can feel. Though Jimin has been shy around other boys all his life that doesn’t mean he hasn’t given his fair share of blowjobs. Random High School boyfriends, or the occasional college flings, were perfect chances for Jimin to master the skill. This is just the first time Jimin’s really wanted to take advantage of his skill to use it to the best of his ability. It would be hard to not want to please Jungkook, the younger’s eyes grow so wide and sparkle when he’s pleased. Jimin wants to see his face like this as often as he can. 

Jimin slowly peels away the confining fabric from over Jungkook’s cock, Jungkook lets out a beautiful sigh when the air hits his hot flesh, watching as the underwear is dragged from his hips, down his thighs, until Jimin carefully slips Jungkook’s feet through the holes. He’s left in only his white t-shirt, that’s becoming see-through from his sweat and the wet, thick air. 

“Ah… Jungkook,” Jimin says, taking in the image, hopefully ingraining it into his mind forever. Jungkook’s flushed cock pressed to his abdomen, making his t-shirt ride up, his cock twitches, it’s slick with pre-cum that’s already dripped down his length, his chest takes in long breathes and his legs are open, patiently waiting for Jimin. Jimin can’t resist waiting any longer just to take in the sight. He nuzzles his cheek against the inside of Jungkook’s thigh, taking in the smell of the other as his palms travel up from Jungkook’s thighs to find purchase at his hips.

“Jimin, if you don’t touch me I think I’m going to pass out,” Jungkook moans. That’s reason enough for Jimin to bring his face back to Jungkook’s crotch, this time it’s skin to skin, only beautiful and flushed skin on display, no stupid cloth separating them. Jimin’s tongue pokes out, he makes sure to get Jungkook’s eye contact once again, before licking a strip up Jungkook’s length. 

This alone sends a spike of pleasure through Jungkook’s form, his stomach tensing as Jimin laps at his vein. Jimin’s mouth is sly, knowing how to subdue a man. His thick lips mumble against Jungkook’s cock, making sure every inch is wet and desperate. Jungkook wants to complain again, to beg Jimin for more more more. He doesn’t need to though, Jimin can see how flustered and needy he is, and he obliges without needing words. Jimin kisses the tip yet again, but this time he opens his mouth and lets it full descend down. Jungkook’s groan rumbles, a noise Jimin hasn’t heard from him before, much louder than the usual weight lifting groan he’s heard previously. It’s exciting, it’s empowering, it makes Jimin only want to please him further. His mouth reaches Jungkook’s base and sucks, Jungkook whimpers, his hips threatening to buck further into Jimin’s throat. Jimin let him do so—yet. He wiggles his throat back and forth at Jungkook’s base, creating a wet and lewd noise. 

“Hyung…” 

Jimin’s mouth slowly ascends Jungkook’s girth, trailing up slowly until he only suckles at the head once again. He can taste Jungkook’s pre-cum, it only urges him to continue his administrations. When he takes Jungkook’s length back in, his hands trail from their hold on Jungkook’s narrow hips to slide up his torso. Jimin watches as his fingers expose Jungkook’s tanned abs, they move up and down quickly with his sharp breathes and stuttered little gasps. 

How did Jimin pull this? This statue of a man, with chiseled features that so easily quake under Jimin’s touch. Jimin releases Jungkook’s cock from his mouth with another lewd pop to echo across the sauna. 

“You can fuck my mouth now,” Jimin says with a voice crack, his throat already weak. 

Jungkook nods, quickly winding his hands into Jimin’s hair to sway the older to take his cock back into his warm, wet mouth. Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to follow Jimin’s instructions, Jimin’s mouth takes in his entire length, relaxing his jaw in preparation for Jungkook’s thrusts. The younger’s thrusts are desperate, they don’t follow a rhythm or pattern, they are fast to seek the softness of the other’s throat, to eat up the noises of gurgling and Jimin’s little choked whines. 

“This is too good Jimin, I can’t take it,” Jungkook says, his voice almost singing the words amongst his little broken sobs of pleasure. 

Jimin’s hands travel along the skin of Jungkook’s chest, irritated with the t-shirt getting in his way. Jimin lets Jungkook completely wreck his throat, but in return, he brings up the hem of Jungkook’s t-shirt to the younger’s mouth. Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to bite down on the fabric, his teeth grinding into it as his moans are muffled. This gives Jimin full access to his exposed skin, his hands squeezing Jungkook’s pecs, tracing the defined lines of his six-pack. 

This might be heaven. 

Jungkook tries to speak through the fabric within his mouth, but his words come out as a jumble of syllables. Jimin can easily guess what he’s trying to say though, feeling how Jungkook’s cock bounces in his mouth, erratic and frantic for the friction. Jimin’s moan harmonizes with Jungkook’s when the younger finally cums, the heat shooting down Jimin’s throat as he sucks it down greedily. Jungkook finishes with little jolts of his hips before he fully relaxes with a low sigh. Jimin slowly raises his head from Jungkook’s length, lapping at the little bubble of white that still trickles from Jungkook’s slit. 

Jimin licks his lips. 

“Fuck,” Jungkook groans, releasing his shirt from his mouth, the fabric crumpled and wet. He sits up from his reclined position, evaluating just how wrecked Jimin is. “Did I go too hard?”

Jimin giggles, lightly coughing, but his smile not fading. “I’d sound a lot worse if you went too hard.” 

His voice is still light and sweet, despite a few voice cracks. Jungkook reaches for the older, his fingers needy to hold the soft skin of Jimin’s face.

“It’s way too hot in here,” Jimin laughs, as Jungkook’s contact only further heats up his skin. 

“I can take you back to your apartment and return the favor,” Jungkook mumbles, his eyes glazed in his post-orgasm bliss. 

“I wish, I have to go finish my shift though,” Jimin answers with a disgusted sigh. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever gotten a blowjob during someone’s lunch break.”

Jimin eats up how Jungkook’s face breaks into a shy smile, while still remaining naked and his cock still hard against his stomach. 

“I definitely have never given a blowjob in a sauna,” Jimin replies. 

They leave the room and Jungkook does his best to help Jimin look normal again, putting Jimin’s t-shirt back on and tying up Jimin’s cute apron. The last few minutes of Jimin’s break tick down quickly. Jimin’s hair dries easily but his lips are extra swollen. 

“Kiss me before I have to go back to work,” Jimin says, in his cute little way of whining out the words. Jungkook doesn’t have to hesitate though, loving the feeling of Jimin’s plump lips against his, still tasting of cedar and that fucking smoothie shop. 

“I guess I’ll see you day after tomorrow?”

Jimin makes an upset face, pouting and hunching his shoulders, “Yeah…”

“I’m glad I at least got to see you today,” Jungkook mumbles, kissing Jimin’s cheek repeatedly, taking full advantage of their last few minutes together. “Well, maybe we did a little more than just see each other.”

Jimin wants to smack the other, “Can’t wait till I can see you again,” he smirks, having to pull himself away from the other’s hold to get back to work. 

When he returns to the smoothie shop, Jungkook walking with him to give him one last kiss before leaving the gym, Namjoon eyes up Jimin. 

“You look different,” is all he says. 

Ok, Jimin thinks, next time definitely not in the gym. 

 ☕︎

 This "next time” doesn’t come fast enough for Jimin’s liking. It’s longer than the “day after tomorrow” they had agreed upon. 

jm: so ur not free til monday? :00

jk<3: an exponential amount of hw got assigned,,, so yea :’(

jm: didnt u guys just have a test ??

jk<3: summer school is,,, a bitch 

trust me i hate it too 

but u know,,,, dad pays for tuition and gym membership and refills my card soooo 

jm: yea :(((

i miss u tho

jk<3: i miss u too 

u have no idea minnie 

plus,,,, my last memory of u is….. ahhh

lets just say i can’t stop thinking abt it

Jimin smiles widely at his phone, turning it off and throwing it across his bed before he stares at the text for hours, knowing the longer he’d look, the more he’d completely melt on the inside. But his phone buzzes before he can leave it on his bed to get ready for the day. 

jk<3: so monday?

jm: yes yes yes

 ☕︎

 Usually, Mondays are a cursed day. But in the summer months, when the sky never really wants to fade into night, and the city pulses in a new way, and legs are always on display in mini skirts or revealing shorts, those months don’t let Mondays bother anyone. With Jimin’s always fluctuating work schedule, and the gym’s inflow not relying on school schedules, the only structure Jimin relies on is that of Jungkook’s. Jungkook’s stupid summer school classes, his relentless assignments he manages to put on the back burner to always text Jimin back quickly and finally make time to see Jimin in person. Jimin knows it’s a hard schedule to be fit into, so he’s grateful when he sees the younger’s face at the other side of his apartment’s door. 

Monday. Who would’ve thought?

“You made it,” Jimin coos, pulling the younger into a soft hug. He takes in Jungkook’s smell as his face is pressed to the crook of the other’s neck.  

“Of course,” Jungkook answers, taking a deep inhale, his nose in Jimin’s scruffy hair. It’s the same as always, smelling of summer and fruit, but Jungkook can never get over it. 

Jimin pulls them into the room and he shuts the door behind Jungkook’s back. The hug loosens only so Jungkook can take the shorter’s face into his palm. Jungkook stares down at Jimin, eyes looking over every centimeter of the other’s face, how his eyes are wide waiting for something to be said or done, how his mouth always looks so kissable. 

“You’re not sweaty,” Jimin points out, breaking the silence.

Jungkook’s mouth stretches into his familiar smile, one Jimin has been missing, “I wanted to see you the first chance I got,” he replies. “Honestly fuck school for not letting me see you earlier.”

Jimin’s face perks up into a giddy smile, “See?! That’s what I’ve been saying for days.” 

Jungkook cracks up, kissing Jimin’s forehead, wrapping his forearms over Jimin’s shoulders just because he can. Jimin is the perfect height for him to easily embrace and lean his weight into. 

“I’m hungry,” Jimin says with a whiny tone, mumbling into the warm fabric of Jungkook’s shirt as he’s buried under Jungkook’s arms.

“Yeah?”

“‘Jimin hyung,’” Jimin mocks, playing up his already high pitched voice, “Will you make me a smoothie? I want a matcha fraaaaaappe.” 

Jungkook nearly growls in his slight irritation with the shorter boy, just rolling his eyes as he still holds onto the other’s shoulders. 

“Jimin-ahhhhhh, I don’t want whipppp, I drank too much banana milllllllk,” Jimin continues to drawl, a little devious smile on his face. He knows he can easily work up Jungkook, and he indulges with the power. 

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate when he squats down and grabs Jimin by his thighs, slinging the shorter boy over his shoulder, and quickly slapping Jimin’s butt that is helplessly on display. Jimin is laughing from behind Jungkook’s shoulder, keeping up his high pitched voice practically speaking gibberish, his arms dangling as he’s marched around his own apartment. 

Jungkook finds Jimin’s room, the door cracked open and wafting with the older’s scent. Jungkook is already obsessed. Despite his infatuation, he keeps up his dominant behavior, tossing Jimin from his shoulder onto the other’s bed. Somehow, Jungkook still manages to be tender with the administrations, his eyes showing a different side though; one that darkens with growing lust. Jimin sees the change of character, huffing from the roughness of the other but not speaking up to complain further. 

“Jimin-ah,” Jungkook purrs, crawling onto the bed on his hands and knees, slowly approaching the other’s sprawled body. “Don’t make me toomad.”

Jimin smirks, giddy in hearing Jungkook’s pitch drop. But his body is too antsy to lay still, sitting up and switching over to being also on his knees. Jimin doesn’t play along with Jungkook’s dominant character he’s putting on, he likes to be competitive. 

“I’m your hyung, Jungkookie, I think we both know who’s really in control right now,” he replies with a devilish tone. Jungkook is taken aback, pausing in his tracks, only capable of watching how Jimin slowly pulls off his blouse. Jungkook can’t quite comprehend what it is about Jimin that is able to so fully transfix him, maybe the way his body so carefully sways in his movements, how he is so sweet but still holds his ground. 

Maybe it’s just in how Jimin is so Jimin. 

And it’s true, Jungkook really isn’t the one in control, but he loves how Jimin is. With that little sweet voice of his that knows what it wants, and how to always get it. Jungkook would easily buy out the entire smoothie shop’s stock over and over again if Jimin asked him to. 

Luckily, Jimin doesn’t want that, all Jimin wants is to close the space between him and Jungkook. He wants Jungkook’s fingers to touch him today, to find every mole of his, to kiss the skin that craves the other so dearly. He wants Jungkook to make love to him, for it to be hard and brutal and completely ruin him, but still have a tenderness remain in the movements, to still see how soft Jungkook’s eyes can become when they look at Jimin. Jimin wants it all, right now, as quickly as possible, as loud and rough and soft as possible. 

When Jimin beckons Jungkook, with a simple hum in the back of his throat, his knees craning to get closer, Jungkook is ready to give Jimin everything he requests. 

Their lips meet. It’s hardly a sensation at first, the light brush of breath, the hesitance of youth. But Jimin doesn’t allow it to remain so gentle for much longer. His tongue licks across Jungkook’s bottom lip, savoring how delicate it is before he fully envelopes the other in a deep kiss. Their tongues hardly know what to do, both so hungry and clouded in lust that it’s wet and uncontrolled. Jungkook’s mind races with thoughts, Jimin’s tongue, Jimin’s lips, Jimin’s hair, Jimin’s taste, Jimin’s skin. He wants more of it all. Jimin is willing and ready to satisfy. 

Jimin shoves Jungkook down, climbing atop the other’s thighs to straddle Jungkook’s hips. He quickly resumes their kiss, heavy breathing connecting and un-connecting their lips from each other. Jimin rocks on Jungkook’s hips, testing out how quickly Jungkook can become hard for his hyung—it’s quick. Jimin smirks to himself against Jungkook’s lips, embracing his power and using it to his full ability. He doesn’t just rock his hips, he sways them and moves them in circles, testing out how many noises he can elicit from the younger at the mere friction. 

“Jimin,” Jungkook whines, breaking their kiss but the older still grinds down on him, “Take off your pants I want to return the favor.”

Though Jimin appreciates the younger’s offer, he just wants to be fucked right now. 

“We can do that some other time,” Jimin says, leaving little breathy kisses along Jungkook’s neck until he’s cut off at the collar of the other’s shirt. Jimin makes quick work of taking off Jungkook’s shirt, admiring the exposed skin in a harsher lighting, taking in each detail he hadn’t been able to while mid blow job last time. 

“You don’t want me to eat you out?” Jungkook asks, almost sad, Jimin’s hair tickling down his chest as Jimin leaves kisses everywhere he can. “I bet you taste so good hyung.”

Jimin scoffs, nipping at Jungkook’s side, “I have very stretched patience right now, I’ve been waiting for this for too long.”

That’s enough reason for Jungkook, he reaches his hands down to his jeans and quickly unbuttons and unzips them. Jimin sits up and lets Jungkook wiggle out of his own pants. 

“Iron man underwear?” Jimin laughs.

Jungkook blushes, reaching out for Jimin and pulling him back to sitting on his lap. He sits up with Jimin’s thighs wrapping around his waist, “I was wearing a different pair of Iron man underwear in the sauna, you just didn’t notice.” 

Jimin throws his head back with a laugh, “Jungkookie-ah, you’re such a player!”

“I definitely am, you still sucked my dick even when I wore Iron man underwear.” 

Jimin smirks, leaning close once again to suck at Jungkook’s neck, he only breaks the contact to whisper against the other’s skin, “And now I’m gonna let a guy in Iron man underwear fuck me, look how desperate you make your hyung, Jungkook.”

The words stifle any chance Jungkook had at a come back, he’s much too far gone with lust to defend his underwear choices. If it works for Jimin then why argue?

Jimin’s hips regain their previous pace, working in dizzying circles over Jungkook’s confined cock. 

“Do you have lube?” Jungkook huskily asks, his neck rolling back with pleasure, giving Jimin a view of his sharp jawline and craning neck. 

“Yes, I’ll get it,” Jimin answers, pushing himself off of Jungkook’s lap, leaving the younger desperate for friction to return. Jimin saunters over to his bedside table. Knowing Jungkook’s eyes are stuck on his form, Jimin makes sure to put on a show as he strips from his pants. This leaves them both in only underwear, the air almost cackling with the sexual tension that sparks between them. Jimin sticks out his tongue with a wide smile and squinted eyes, his tongue flicks back and forth as he showcases his strawberry lube.

“Of course,” Jungkook laughs. Jimin nods, winding his way around the strewn clothes on the floor, back to Jungkook sitting ready on the bed. 

“Turn around,” Jungkook tries to command of Jimin once the older is on the bed, but Jimin doesn’t break eye contact, is body finding its way back onto Jungkook.

“I want to watch you while I finger myself,” Jimin says. 

Jungkook gulps. All he does is nod, even if he didn’t nod Jimin would still do what he pleases. Jimin pops the cap of the pink plastic container, drizzling the thick liquid onto his pointer and middle finger; the smell hits the room all at once, intoxicatingly sweet and it makes Jungkook’s eyes flutter. 

“Would you help me take these off?” Jimin asks, looking down to his annoying underwear that also strains against how hard he’s become. Jungkook adamantly nods, his hands reaching out to tug down the hem, pulling them until Jimin’s cute little cock pops out. He slides them down until they fall from the older’s thighs and sit at his knees against the bed. Jungkook uses this as his opportunity to finally touch Jimin, the warm skin of his narrow hips, how soft it is under Jungkook’s fingers. 

Jimin whines with the attention, trying to focus on fully lubing his fingers up as they bend behind him to rub at his hole. Jungkook watches in amazement, wetting his lips, the scene playing out like some kind of expensive porno and somehow he’s managed to sit in front the most beautiful bottom he’s ever seen. 

Jimin’s first finger teases at his entrance, he relaxes, and slowly pushes it in, his face breaking from it’s controlled expression to let out a long whine. 

“God Jiminie, do you need me to help?” Jungkook asks, his pitch low, watching as Jimin slowly thrusts the finger in and out of himself, his ministrations slow as he stretches himself out. 

Jimin is in a haze, peering at Jungkook from past his thick lashes, “Just watch baby, all I want you to do is watch me… don’t I look good right now? Just one finger fills me up… imagine how tight I’ll be around your cock.”

Jungkook’s throat feels dry, he doesn’t know how to process this level of dirty talk, he’s never had to before. But Jimin is all-new levels of sinful, his voice alone leaving Jungkook needy and pliant. 

Jimin makes a show of it when he finally inserts his second finger in, his eyes squeezing shut with a sharp moan that escapes him. He starts to bounce onto his own fingers, using his strong dancer thighs for leverage. Jungkook encourages the other, his fingers grazing light trails across every surface of Jimin available to him. He reaches around the older and traces down Jimin’s arching back, reaching the supple flesh of Jimin’s ass, taking in the soft skin and squeezing it tenderly. 

“Mmm, I don’t want to wait anymore,” Jimin whines, his back curling even farther. 

“Maybe you should do three fingers…” Jungkook says, smiling. 

Jimin’s movements stop for a moment to eye up Jungkook, “Cocky huh?”

Jungkook shrugs, a hand grabbing his clothed cock, giving it a few strokes as Jimin watches with pursed lips. 

“Better safe than sorry, hyung.” 

Jimin rolls his eyes, but he spreads lube across his ring finger, making sure to not break eye contact as he slowly inserts it past his ring of muscle. He can’t keep up the serious facade though, as the intrusion brings about a new wave of pleasure and slight pain. He can only manage a few thrusts of his three fingers before his thighs quake and give out on him. Jungkook is quick to scoop up his hyung, his fingers holding tightly to the other’s warm and glistening skin. 

“Hyung…” Jungkook mumbles into Jimin’s soft tummy. Jimin’s collapsed onto his back, his limbs splaying out carelessly across the duvet as Jungkook climbs over him. “You’re so…”

“Yeah?”

“You’re just—“ Jungkook can’t find the words, looking down at the boy below him, the sheets wrinkling under Jimin’s frame. He’s overtaken by Jimin’s ethereal appearance, of his hair falling every direction, of his face showcasing a level of pleasure Jungkook’s never seen anyone possess. 

Jimin doesn’t need Jungkook to try to finish his sentence. He wraps his fingers around the back of Jungkook’s neck and brings the younger to his lips. Their kiss isn’t hurried, it’s slow, and tender because it’s them. They’re shy and flushed and they can’t get enough of each other.

“I’m ready,” Jimin says into Jungkook’s mouth, his voice so hushed Jungkook has to pull away to fully comprehend it. Jimin gives him a nod to reaffirm his words, his legs spreading, his eyes hooded in their desire. Jungkook doesn’t need further encouragement, he slides off his underwear, finally letting his throbbing cock free. It’s flushed at the head and Jungkook gives it a few lazy tugs before reaching to Jimin’s strawberry lube. It’s a little cold as it drizzles down his length, but he doesn’t mind, making sure it’s evenly coated before lining up at Jimin’s hole.

“You’re cute,” Jungkook says against Jimin’s cheek. 

“Aishh, just fuck me already,” Jimin complains, but his voice is playful. Jungkook follows the older’s orders. He grabs his girth and circles Jimin’s rim before slowly sinking in, managing to continue pushing farther and farther—despite the overwhelming pleasure that swarms all his veins—until he bottoms out, pressing against Jimin’s skin. Jimin lets out a high pitched moan as Jungkook lets out a low one. It’s a beautiful melody, entirely their own. Their movements are halted for a moment so that Jimin can full adjust to Jungkook’s girth stretching him out. But Jimin, being a needy and antsy boy, quickly grows tired of waiting and bucks his hips up to urge Jungkook to begin moving. 

Jungkook tries to control his arms as they lean at either side of Jimin’s head. Despite all his working out, the muscles he’s put so much effort into growing, he’s still weak as his cock is buried in Jimin’s warmth. But he wants to do his best for his Jimin, he wants to make the smaller boy cry in pleasure. So he manages to control his limbs, finding leverage against the mattress to pull his hips back up, his length dragging inside of Jimin until he pushes it back with a rough thrust. Jimin gasps, a loud moan escaping him with the force. Jungkook is hooked on the noise, he begins to pick up his pace and thrust faster, gaging Jimin’s reaction. Jimin is a loud bottom, and Jungkook eats it up, his own moans falling from his lips as he nuzzles against Jimin’s neck. 

“’S so good, ah, ah, it’s so good,” Jimin manages to say in-between the rampant bucks of Jungkook’s hips into him. 

Jungkook coos at Jimin’s praise, his abs clenching with the effort of filling up Jimin to satisfy the older’s fill. Jungkook sits up, keeping his pace unchanged, and he grabs for Jimin’s thighs, bringing them up to press against Jimin’s torso. This new angle allows Jungkook to thrust faster and directly into Jimin, noticing instantly how he begins to hit Jimin’s prostate. 

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” Jimin lets out amongst his other gibberish mumbles and praises. Jungkook flashes an evil grin, taking pride in already finding Jimin’s angles. He pumps into the other, making sure to hit the same spot on repeat until Jimin is practically sobbing from pleasure. 

“If you keep this up I’m gonna cum already,” Jimin whines, his hands reaching out to hold onto Jungkook’s hips, halting the other’s motions. Jungkook lazily smiles, still within Jimin’s warmth but pausing for breath and leaning down to scatter kisses all over Jimin. 

“I wanna ride,” Jimin blurts out, his fingers curling in Jungkook’s fluffy hair, and beginning to pull at it so Jungkook leans away from him. Jungkook sighs, frustrated as he’s tugged away from Jimin’s skin littered with small hickeys and the wetness from Jungkook’s mouth. But Jungkook follows orders, albeit slowly and begrudgingly. When Jimin flips the younger over and hovers over the tip of Jungkook’s cock, Jungkook isn’t so begrudging. 

Jimin wiggles over it, teasing the other, his small hand wrapping around his cock and giving it a few pumps, Jungkook can only sit there obediently and watch. 

“You’re gonna make me act up,” Jungkook says in a grumble, his impatience wearing thin, though a smile cracks across his features. 

“Maybe I’d like that…” Jimin responds, yet again swaying his hips dramatically to urge Jungkook on. Jungkook, despite his usual reserves and somewhat timid nature when shy, grabs onto Jimin’s side while Jungkook’s other hand tightens around his own length. He positions Jimin’s hole over the head of his cock, his eyes looking over Jimin to take in the boy’s neutral but encouraging expression, before shoving the older down onto his cock. Jungkook feels more pleasure in seeing how Jimin’s face contorts with the sudden intrusion and euphoria that bursts within him than the pleasure that courses from his own length. Despite this, the pleasure of being inside of Jimin is also very overwhelming. Jungkook lets out a yelp when the other boy first sinks down, and then there’s a pause. Jungkook bites his lip, eyes not daring to look away from Jimin’s because he knows how the older boy hates when he looks away. Jimin feeds off of the attention, the praise that’s given within just a small gaze, it is what fuels him to begin moving. 

At first it is slow, a small raise of his hips with a twist of his angle. Jungkook already caves, his hands trying to find purchase on any part of Jimin he can hold on to. Jimin loves how reactive Jungkook is, his hands covering where Jungkook holds him, encouraging the younger to hold onto him tighter, to enjoy it even more. And Jungkook is easily swayed. He can hardly try to buck his hips up to meet Jimin’s administrations, he’s only capable of sitting back and let Jimin thoroughly ruin him. 

“Should I try out this challenge I saw online?” Jimin asks with a light giggle, his speed increasing, his thighs putting in the work to give him proper leverage as he bobs up and down. 

“W-what challenge?” Jungkook stutters. 

Jimin smiles and doesn’t answer, he begins to sway his hips to the left, and then in a circular motion, and then to the left again, a circle, and then forwards towards Jungkook, and then away in the opposite direction, finishing his pace with a forward and backward movement, and finally a left to right motion. Jungkook is out of breath and out of new noises to make when Jimin pauses in his actions. 

“Was that the challenge?”

“I spelled coconut,” Jimin laughs, regaining some speed as he rides Jungkook, “Coconut for my non-dairy boy.”

Jungkook slaps Jimin’s ass with the comment, drawing out a whimper from Jimin, and Jungkook can’t help but smile in satisfaction. 

“You need to say more stupid shit so I can make fun of you,” Jungkook grunts.

Jimin nods, his hands reaching out to plant themselves on Jungkook’s hard chest, “You can’t make fun of me while I’m riding you, that’s just not allowed.”

That’s fair, Jungkook thinks, as Jimin grinds against him, the breathing of the shorter on top of him becoming strained and letting out little noises with each exhale. Jimin’s small fingers twist at his bobbing cock, the skin flushed and wet with a mix of lube and pre-cum getting everywhere. 

“Do you want to cum Jiminie?” Jungkook asks, stabilizing Jimin’s movements with a harsh hold on the other’s hips. Jimin nods frantically, letting Jungkook control the scenario, no longer trying to bounce onto Jungkook’s cock with his labored and desperate movements. Jungkook makes sure Jimin stays still so he can thrust his hips up to completely thrash Jimin. Jimin is too far gone for this treatment, his body going loose as all he can do is take it, bending down to nuzzle into Jungkook’s chest as the younger continues his relentless movements. Jimin grinds his cock against Jungkook’s abdomen as he strokes it, letting the other completely control the pacing and roughness. He loves it though, he loves controlling Jungkook until he grows tired of it and lets the other have his way with his body. It’s pleasant to lay atop his tan boyfriend—if he is Jimin’s boyfriend…—and receive all the pleasure he’s been craving for months. The slight glaze of sweat over Jungkook’s skin, the breathy moans with the effort, the way Jungkook’s fingers keep brushing over Jimin’s naked back to soothe the other’s constant whines as he nears his orgasm. 

Jimin feels loved. Or at least adored. And it just adds to his high, the euphoria of Jungkook’s fingers gripping at his soft skin, the tangle of moans and whines amidst the hot air, it all builds. It brings Jimin to his climax as his body shudders with the release. Jungkook remains thrusting into him, not loosing his pace but enjoying the feeling of Jimin’s walls tightening around his length as he rocks the other through his orgasm. Jimin breathes heavily, panting against Jungkook’s honey skin, his fingers crawling over the younger boy’s chest and abs. 

“Cum for me Jungkook.” 

Jimin knows he won’t be able to handle much more, he wants Jungkook to cum quickly after him so he doesn’t become too sensitive. 

Jungkook, being the obedient boy he is, doesn’t need to be asked twice. He holds Jimin up, raising the older’s hips slightly off from sitting on his thighs. He thrusts erratically upwards into Jimin as Jimin can’t help but yelp with the overstimulation that already courses through his limbs. Jungkook comes quickly, his reserves letting go and for those brief moments leading up to his release he doesn’t worry about hurting Jimin. Jimin likes it though, to see Jungkook grit his teeth and anticipate his growing orgasm, how his moans turn to low growls. When Jungkook finally thrusts his last time and his body goes limp with his brief moment of pure bliss, Jimin takes it upon himself to roll his hips a few more times onto Jungkook’s cock, enjoying how Jungkook mutters, “Aishhh, Jimin…”

Jimin relents, despite his enjoyment in watching Jungkook’s face contort, it does hurt him to continue much longer. He slowly raises himself off of Jungkook’s cock that drips a few last drops of cum. It’s a sight, Jungkook’s abs covered in cum, his cock wet with lube and his breathing still trying to calm down. 

“Do you have anything to clean up with?” Jungkook finally asks when his eyes clear of their haze and he’s able to control his breathing. 

Jimin laughs, standing up only to quickly realize how sore he is. He stretches out his limbs, Jungkook watching how Jimin’s naked body bends to gracefully. I should really watch him during one of his dance classes, Jungkook thinks, remaining quiet as he takes it all in. 

“I have toilet paper?” Jimin says with a sheepish smile. 

Jungkook throws his back to the pillow under him, sighing as he feels cum drip down the sides of his stomach. “This is always the gross part,” Jungkook laughs. 

“Wanna shower?” Jimin asks. 

Jungkook’s expression perks, “Yes, unless it all drips off of me before I can get in.”

Jimin giggles, reaching down to smack Jungkook’s shoulder, “Don’t tease me!” “Don’t cum on my stomach next time!” Jungkook jokingly exclaims, “God, I look like a glazed donut.”

Jimin dies of laughter, throwing his head back as his eyes completely shut with his giggles. He finally calms down to grab Jungkook’s hand and tugs the younger boy off his bed. Jungkook follows Jimin as they find their way to Jimin’s shower, quickly, so Jungkook doesn’t have to deal with the dripping liquid much longer.

It’s all so natural. It all feels so right. It feels romantic, scenic, it’s too perfect for how much fucking cum is on Jungkook’s stomach right now. He just laughs to himself. 

 ☕︎

 “Ok, I’m gonna admit something to you,” Jimin says, maybe four months into them dating—yes, officially dating— “I’ve never had banana milk.”

Jungkook’s face turns to utter shock. They’re walking along some random street they’ve accidentally discovered, long into the night but it’s still warm out, it feels like the street beckons them further. It’s a street of random convenient stores with neon signs lighting up the humid air, vendors still behind their carts because so many other couples are out despite it being a late hour of the night.

“How did I accidentally start dating someone who’s never had banana milk? What kind of hell dimension am I living in?” Jungkook teases. Jimin nudges his body against Jungkook as he laughs. 

 ☕︎

 It’s actually a funny story how they managed to start dating. They’d had sex a couple times, each time Jimin being dominant until tiring out and letting Jungkook pound into him. Despite the many occasions their naked bodies intertwined, despite how many times Jimin would choke on Jungkook’s cock or Jungkook’s tongue would dart into Jimin’s hole, Jimin was still too shy to ask Jungkook what they were. 

One night they were cuddling on Jimin’s couch, random snacks littered across the older’s coffee table and their legs tangled around each other. Jimin, bold after eating well—not to mention the alcohol that also helped fuel his courage—finally turned to look at Jungkook. Jungkook had met the other’s stare, his expression innocent and eyes wide.

“Yes?” Jungkook asked amidst the silence. 

Jimin hesitated, floundering to find the remote and pause whatever they were watching. “We’ve been having a lot of fun together… right?” 

Jimin felt his nerves return, he wished he could have retracted his words but he already started to get the conversation going, he couldn’t have turned back. 

“Yeah…” Jungkook smiled, still not picking up on any of Jimin’s slight eyebrow raises or how his eyes darted around; always so oblivious. 

“Well… I guess I just wanted to make sure that… I don’t know… that you feel comfortable with me calling you my… my boyfriend.”

Jungkook had looked perplexed, his forehead tensing and his lips trying to form a word. 

“It’s okay if you’re not comfortable calling it that yet!” Jimin continued to blurt, “… I just wanted to check in—”

“Jimin, wait what?” Jungkook interrupted the other’s rambling, “Haven’t we been boyfriends this whole time…?” Jimin was still not convinced, not letting a smile form yet, his fingers picking at the blanket that had been strewn across their legs a few hours previous. 

“I don’t know, we’ve never talked about it and I didn’t want to rush you…”

Jungkook scoffed and grabbed the older’s round cheeks, squeezing them until Jimin’s lips formed a plump circle shape. 

“I’ve wanted to be your boyfriend since I first saw you in that smoothie shop. Jimin, half my stuff is already in your apartment right now,” Jungkook could hardly continue through his laughter, “You already met my dad and we had dinner together, Jimin, I’ve slept here for the last two days.” 

Jimin was quiet, just staring back at Jungkook with wide eyes and his cheeks still squished under Jungkook’s fingers. 

“Oh.” 

Jungkook laughed, “Yeah.”

“Uh…” Jimin slowly smiled, his cheeks turning a stronger pink and his eyes darting around the room, “Then that’s cool.” 

 ☕︎

 The streetlights emanate a soft glow across the city’s street. Jimin eyes the upcoming store they approach as they slowly continue their walk. 

“I could try it for the first time, like, right now.”

Jungkook turns to look at him with a pleased smile, “You definitely won’t regret it, I really miss it. I think I made myself literally lactose intolerant after drinking a few too many.”

Jimin laughs, his hand reaching out to rub Jungkook’s tummy with sympathy, “If I really like it I might have to become lactose intolerant too.”

Jungkook shrugs, “We’ll just have to see huh?”

Jimin nods, and they turn in unison to enter one of the markets. The fluorescents are at first hard for their eyes to adjust to, all the product’s labels bright and colorful. Jungkook knows immediately where to go, despite each market having a different layout, most have their drink freezers along the back wall. Jungkook confidently marches over, scouring his eyes over the numerous products until he lets out a pleased laugh.

“Here we go! Banana milk! This is my favorite brand!” He exclaims proudly, showcasing it to his boyfriend. Jimin nods, returning a smile, and lets Jungkook bring it to the cashier and check it out. They leave the store and find a street side little table with two chairs across from each other.

“Ooo, this is so exciting,” Jungkook giggles, undoing the cap and sliding the drink over to Jimin. Jimin eyes up the yellow label and then turns his focus to Jungkook who intently watches his every move. 

“Are you ready? Maybe you should record this, Jimin’s first sip of banana milk,” Jimin is slightly teasing, but he loves how happy Jungkook is, so he plays along. 

“Oh, good idea.” 

Jungkook quickly fishes out his phone and presses record, the iPhone beeping as the video begins. Jungkook talks into the phone, “Everyone, prepare yourselves, this might be the most important moment in Jimin’s life. Yes… he’s trying his first sip of the famous banana milk!”

Jungkook signals to Jimin for Jimin to take his first swig from the plastic bottle. Jimin follows orders, picking it up, evaluating it one last time before bringing his lips to its’ rim. The sweet milk hits his tongue and his eyes widen and then he swallows it down carefully. He takes one last sip before setting the drink back down. Jungkook raises a brow. 

“Hyung…” Jungkook’s voice drawls from behind the phone, “Are you even able to find words to describe it? Can you handle how good it is?”

Jimin giggles, playing up his pleasure with the drink. “Ah! Jungkookie! How have I never had this before! You weren’t lying!!!” 

Jungkook is pleased and turns off the recording, slipping his phone away. 

“See? I knew you’d love it.”

Jimin nods, taking another sip, adding a satisfied sound effect as it slips down his throat. After a few minutes of brief chatter they stand up and continue their walk, light noises of other conversations drifting in the heat around them. Jimin takes Jungkook’s hand in his, tenderly, carefully, softly. 

It’s so warm out, but Jimin always needs the heat of Jungkook’s hand in his to feel complete. 

  ☕︎☕︎☕︎

[oforamuse]

i had a dream (i got everything i wanted) 1/?

mickey milkovich hasn’t seen ian gallagher in over 9 years, not since the day he broke his heart and they shipped him off to prison for a crime he didn’t technically commit.

the last place he expects to bump into him is new york fucking city.

or, the one where two broken puzzle pieces find a way to fit themselves back together.

au from 5x12/6x01 onwards.

read and comment on ao3

They’re out of fucking milk. They’re out of eggs, butter and even bread.

There’s not even a bag of chips in sight - what the fuck is this?

‘Fuck.’ Mickey curses, he’s hungry and there’s nothing in his goddamn apartment to eat. He could’ve sworn Mandy went grocery shopping only a few days ago, how did they already manage to finish the lot off? He swears someone’s been sneaking into their fourth floor walk up to raid their fridge - it’s probably that bitch who’s always yelling at the ass crack of dawn on the floor below, Mickey’s constantly having to stomp on the floor at 5am to shut the bitch up. His stomach rumbles angrily, he got in late last night from work and couldn’t be bothered to throw something together before he passed out on the sofa. Mandy’s not even home right now so he can’t even be properly pissed at her for eating all their food as much as he would like to. He rubs his hands over his eyes, already exhausted by the day despite only waking up 10 minutes ago. He slept in late, later than usual, since work had been a bitch the night before. Too many drunken handsy people having to be thrown out of a club on a friday night - he definitely does not get paid enough to deal with that shit.

He opens the fridge door again hoping for some sort of fucking biblical level miracle but groans, it’s still as empty as before. There’s not even a 20c pack of ramen floating about, only a bag of flour, a few beers and a lonely can of soup sitting on the top shelf. There’s no chance he’ll be eating that can of shit. He begrudgingly resigns, it’s 2pm on his day off and he just wants some damn eggs.

To the overpriced bodega two blocks down he goes, he fucking hates that place.

He huffs and stomps grumpily into his room to quickly throw on some proper clothes, hastily picking out a clean t-shirt and pairing it with yesterday’s somewhat clean jeans. He shrugs at his reflection in the mirror - he ain’t got no one to impress, especially not on a run down the road. He goes into Mandy’s room and grabs the twenty bucks he’d seen sitting on top of the dresser - telling himself that he’ll pay her back somehow, despite the fact she’s the greedy culprit who ate everything. He throws a jacket over his shoulders, grabs his keys off the hook by the door and bounds down the narrow staircase. Their apartment sits on the top floor of an overpriced but barely used laundromat on a busy cross street in the high east nineties. New York is loud, people are rude and it stinks 99% of the time, but it works for them. Besides, it’s not Chicago, that’s the important part.

That’s the really important part.

Mandy had moved in here originally with an ex boyfriend she’d chased all the way out here from Chicago, and they’d actually managed to stick it out for a few years before he inevitably ran off with another girl. By that point, Mandy had already gotten a receptionist job at a gym downtown and somehow managed to score a relatively low rent with the landlord, so she decided to stick it out instead of moving home. Mickey isn’t 100% sure there wasn’t a blowjob involved or something, but he ain’t questioning it.

He got out of prison just over 3 years ago on good behaviour and pretty soon after found himself following Mandy out to the East Coast. He never thought he’d see himself leave Chicago’s city limits but as soon as he completed his 2 years of parole and he was free to leave the state, he hopped on a bus without looking back.

There sure as hell wasn’t anything left for him there.  

His few years of parole had been lonely and even though he’d never admit it if anyone asks, the last thing you want after being locked up for years is to live alone. He mainly kept to himself, picked up some shifts at a local mechanic that his PO had managed to organise for him. Stayed out of trouble and mostly kept his head down - which wasn’t the easiest thing for a Milkovich to do but his heavy ankle monitor constantly reminded him that he was barely even out of the clink, he knew he couldn’t chance it to toe the line. It surprised him how relatively easy it was to stay out of trouble and it made him wonder how different his life could’ve been had he not been brought up by a sadistic criminal of a father and a nonexistent mother. If he’d had a normal childhood without the scrounging and the hiding and the beatings.

He didn’t try and reconnect with anyone he knew from before. What was the point? Svetlana had skipped town for some rich guy, she’d mailed him the divorce papers and they’d finalised it all around the third year or so of his incarceration. He didn’t even get to say goodbye to the kid, not that Mickey particularly minded, but he had been growing somewhat fond of the fucker. His brothers’ still lived at home, but he’d heard from some fellow inmates that his dad was out so he steered clear of his childhood home and any of his dad’s old local haunts. He bounced around dingy motels for the majority of the year, which was a fucking hassle since he had to keep asking his PO to change the radius on his montior, but it out weighed having to go and ask anyone for any favours. He avoided his entire old neighbourhood, willing every single time he got on the L or walked down a busy street that he wouldn’t bump into someone he knew.

Even if he wanted to reconnect with people he didn’t even know where he’d start, it had been 6 full years. It took him for fucking ever to track Mandy down, let alone…

No.

No.

He’s halfway to the store when he stops. He can’t fucking breathe.

What the fuck.

He can’t move, he can’t physically move.

His bones feel like they’ve interlocked in place, sticking together and solidifying him into an ancient statue and he can’t. fucking. move.

Because it’s Ian fucking Gallagher.

Ian Gallagher standing right in front of him.

Ian fucking I don’t love you enough anymore Gallagher.

He’s standing right in front of him on the sidewalk in New York city, right outside a goddamn Duane Reade, hundreds of miles from the Chicago South Side.

What in the fucking fucking fuck?

Mickey could be dreaming, Mickey must be dreaming, because this can’t be fucking real. He’s often seen the ginger boy, man - he corrects himself, in his dreams over the last few years. He’s always appeared as a shadowy figure or even as a whimsical idea echoing in his subconsciousness but this is way too realistic.

He’s here, he’s here standing right in front of him in the living and breathing human bodied flesh.

Yet he’s still the exact same tall, red headed guy that a teenage Mickey fell for over a decade ago and it’s like being bitch slapped by a bus, full force and full of impact. Ian hasn’t seen him yet, he’s talking into his phone, laughing at something that’s been said and Mickey’s heart hurts. It’s been over nine years since he saw Ian laugh like that. His hands start to shake and his breath picks up in short, small uncontrollable bursts. There must be somewhere he can go and duck into. He checks the distance to the entrance to the Duane Reade, wondering if he could chance it before the other man notices.

He should turn around, groceries be damned, he should go right the fuck now before Ian see’s him and-

‘Mickey?’

Oh, fuck. Even his voice is exactly the same. God, Mickey has waited 9 years to hear that voice again but right now all he can hear is rushing wind in his ears, his entire world turned on its axis.

Is everyone around him moving in slow motion or is it just him?

He looks up and Ian is staring at him with a wide eyed, what the fuck is going on, expression on his face. Yeah, Mickey would like to know too, if only he could get his fucking breathing under control.

‘Mickey?’ He repeats without moving closer, the phone call hangs abandoned in his right hand. He wonders who from his past is on the other end of the line, Lip? Fiona? Perhaps a new boyfriend? Husband, even?

‘Hi.’ Mickey breathes out harshly, panic rising up slowly in his throat. He still can’t move.

This is a dream, this is a fucked up dream.

‘What, what are you- you’re out?’ Ian asks, finally breaking the barrier between them and moving a step closer. His face is practically the same as he looked the last time Mickey saw him, but it’s been clear the time that has passed. He’s lost even more of the baby face he once possessed, his jaw now sharp and precise. His eyes are bright and alive, worlds apart from the dead and sunken look Mickey recalls from their last interaction - the one where Ian had told him he’d wait and never fucking visited him again.

‘Fuck you doing here, Gallagher?’ He hears himself blurt out shakily and he barely even realises he said it, only noticing Ian’s eyebrows furrowing together in a response. He looks so confused and concerned but also somewhat hurt and Mickey wants to. fucking. bolt.

All he wanted was some god damn eggs but instead he gets sucker punched by history and the feeling he’s about to spew his guts out onto the sidewalk.

‘I could ask you the same thing.’ Ian replies, dumbfounded. Someone shoulders grumpily past Mickey and he’s suddenly pulled back to the fact they’re standing, staring at each other in the middle of a busy sidewalk.

‘Fuck you, watch yourself asshole!’ He calls after the guy in the classic New York fashion he’s managed to perfect in the last few months, he’s getting quite good at blending in. People continue to shove passive aggressively past them, though neither men move. ‘Been here almost a year.’ He says without bringing his gaze back to Ian, staring just over his shoulder at the busy traffic.

‘What? You’ve been out for a year?’ Ian’s ask incredulously, bringing Mickey back to the shocked expression on his face. It’s almost as if he never even considered the possibility that Mickey might’ve made parole early instead of sitting his full sentence. Behind the confusion there’s a small smile playing on his lips, it reminds Mickey too much of those days and it hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

How is it still hurting after 9 years?

‘Almost three.’ Mickey replies, his attempt at nonchalance hardened by the bitter taste flooding his mouth. He feels like he’s about to choke, he has to get out of here. ‘Listen, I gotta go-’

‘Mickey, I-’ Ian interrupts, stepping a foot closer to him. His arm is raised in front of him in a way that looks like he’s going to try and touch him or hug him or something-

Mickey spins on his heel and gets the fuck out of dodge.

Groceries forgotten, Mickey practically sprints back to his apartment, the streets a blur around him as he shoulders through. He takes the four sets of stairs two at a time, not letting himself register the sharp ragged tightness in his chest until he gets to his front door.

His hands fumble as he pulls the keys out from his pocket, but somehow he manages to steady himself enough to let himself into his apartment. He slams the door behind him and slumps immediately down to the floor, his back against the wood as he tries, unsuccessfully, to steady his breathing.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fucking, fuck.

What on fucking God’s green earth is Ian doing here?

Here.

Here in this world that Mickey has so painstakingly created for himself, for him and Mandy. A world that is hundreds of miles away from Chicago, from the South Side, from them. From the porch steps where Ian stood blankly, rejecting Mickey’s heart and crushing it in his hands. Hundreds of miles away from the Kash and Grab where they’d fuck in the back room but laugh out front, from his broken childhood home that was made just that little brighter by Ian’s laughter, from the prison he sat in for 6 fucking years doing time for Ian fucking Gallagher.

Mickey’s hands are shaking, the tattoos on his knuckles blur as he shoves them underneath his thighs in an attempt to get something under control and closes his eyes. He breathes slowly, his stomach nauseous, his rabid hunger from an hour earlier long forgotten. He doesn’t think he could eat anything for another week.

There’s a quiet, hesitant knock on his apartment door, a foot or so above Mickey’s resting head.

‘Mickey?’

It’s Ian again, Jesus, he must’ve followed him here. He curses the fact that the main door downstairs is broken so any random fucker can walk in. He’s told their landlord so many times to get it fixed, and God he should’ve done it himself because he really could’ve used a proper lock right about now.

‘What do you want?’ Mickey grunts out, pulling himself off the floor to grab the pack of smokes sitting on the small table by the door. His hands shake as he pulls out a cigarette and it falls to the floor, fuck.

‘Mickey.’ Ian’s voice persists, and Mickey rolls his eyes because the kid was never good at getting the message of go the fuck away. His stomach jolts at the thought of that persistent teenage ginger freckled freak that buried himself under Mickey’s skin and tattooed himself there when they were just kids. He remembers 16 year old Ian’s earnest way of looking at him like he held the world in his hands, following him around and slipping into Mickey’s life almost seamlessly. He remembers the feeling of agony he felt every single day, sitting in that cell and willing to turn back time and change things. Mickey registers something flowing through him, something fiery and hot, it’s anger. He feels it swarm from his fingertips all the way down to his toes, it pushes him forward. He swings around, unlocks the door and stares at the man standing in front of him.

‘What the fuck do you want?’ He spits, years and years of pent up disappointment and heartbreak coursing fiercely through his veins and he feels like he’s about to explode. This isn’t how he used to imagine seeing Ian again would be, he always imagined warmth and floating and butterflies in his fucking stomach. He imagined kisses and tears and I love yous.

He stopped imaging seeing Ian again around the 4 year mark. 6 years of sitting in a prison, waiting, changes people.  

And yet, everything feels the same. His heart still fucking pounds in the same way and his knees feel like they’re about to give out at the sight of those eyes and that ginger hair.

‘It’s you.’ Ian breathes, the surprised expression slipping away from his adult and aged features revealing the same kid he’s always been, ‘It’s you, here.’

‘Yeah no fuckin’ shit Sherlock Holmes.’ he snaps, patting his pockets to find a lighter in an attempt to give his hands something to do other than shake. Fuck, he must’ve left it inside.

‘I didn’t know you were out-’ Ian starts awkwardly, almost as if he doesn’t know what to do now that he actually has Mickey in front of him, like the bastard didn’t follow him up here and practically demand his audience.

‘Are we really going to do the fucking sentimentalities?’ It comes out way more breathy and defeated than Mickey would’ve liked but he’s tired, overwhelmed and really just wants a smoke. They stare at each other, it’s awkward and clunky and full of history. ‘Like, how's the fucking weather been? Really?’

‘No, I just- you look good.’ Ian offers quietly, his eyes flickering down, following Mickey’s entire body to the floor. It should feel good, getting checked out, but it doesn’t.

‘Not a lot to do in prison other than work out.’ Mickey says firmly, puffing his chest out slightly. He doesn’t miss the way Ian’s shoulders slump as a response at the mention of his incarceration.

Good.

Truthfully, other than his heart hurting every minute of everyday, the majority of prison feels like a blur to him now. It was hours of working out, fucking and volunteering in the canteen, the library, the yard. Anything to keep his mind off of things. He’s managed to keep up with the working out though, regularly running around the top end of central park and he sometimes gets one on one boxing lessons from a guy down the road. It feels good, he feels strong. Ian was always the strong one between the two of them - not any more.

‘How ya been?’ Ian asks casually as if it’s only been weeks and not years, the ease at which he says it slaps Mickey, it stings.

‘Oh real fuckin’ fine and dandy.’ Mickey replies harshly and Ian’s eyebrows drop, his forehead creased by the words that hang unspoken. Mickey can feel a heavy scowl form on his face, it hurts with the intensity he’s holding it.

‘We could, uh, go for a beer? and talk, maybe?’ Ian presses earnestly, somewhat testing the waters. Mickey can’t help but bark out a laugh. Nine years of fucking silence and the guy wants to go for a beer. His stomach churns and he feels like he’s going to vomit. He stares at him, his silent answer glaringly obvious. Ian’s eyes fall, they’re heavy and sad and they’re burning right into Mickey’s skin. He shakes his head, exhausted by it all and goes to close the door, but Ian steps forward sharply and grabs the handle.

‘Don’t- Mick, please.’

The nickname stabs Mickey in the gut. He can’t do this.

‘Really, Ian?’ Mickey asks in disbelief, ‘Nine fucking years of nothing and you want to go for a beer-’

‘I know that-’ Ian tries but Mickey keeps barrelling through.

‘Act like I never went to prison for your ass?’ Mickey fires back sharply, unable to hold it all back, ‘And you never fucking visited me? Not once after that first time- six years I sat there like a bitch and nothing.’

Mickey’s breathing is ragged, his chest heaving. He's angry, he's so fucking angry.  

Ian’s face crumbles. He resigns and releases his hand from where he’d been holding the door open and steps back cautiously, shame hangs in the air between them.

‘I just want to talk to you.’ Ian says softly, his eyes serious but desperate. There’s a glimmer of wetness in them that makes Mickey want to both scream and take him into his arms. They’re the same green eyes Mickey filled into the 'IAN GALLAGHER' filing cabinet and locked away in the back of his mind - he doesn’t think he’s even slept with someone with green eyes since Ian. He’s fucked a lot of gingers over the years, a lot more than he would ever probably admit, but those eyes? They’re something you can’t just replicate.

Fuck those sad eyes, he thinks, you don’t get to be sad.

You don’t get to be sad when you are the one that did this.

‘We had six years to talk.’ Mickey bites back venomously, he’s not sure where this surge of confidence came from but he’s grabbing it by the reins and riding it out.

‘I know, I-’ Ian steps forward, his hands raised up as a peace offering. Mickey wants to push them far away but also grab them by the wrist and never let him go. His head hurts, he’s confused. He wants to throw up.

‘Ian?’ A voice calls out from down the hall, slicing through the red hot tension between the two men. Mickey breathes out heavily and glances down the hall at his younger sister.

Fantastic, just what he needs. He braces himself.

‘Ian!’ Mandy all but squeals, throwing her arms around him happily, her skinny arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders. He lifts her off the ground easily for a moment before dropping her back on her feet. God, they're like a bunch of school kids. Mickey shifts his weight from foot to foot awkwardly, not knowing where to put himself between the two old friends, and ultimately, he just wants to leave.

‘It’s so good to see you, Mandy.’ Ian says quietly, the corners of his mouth turned up into a small smile, his eyes then shift plainly over to Mickey. He looks away sharply.

Mandy steps back, throwing a slow glance between the two of them, Mickey standing in the doorway, eyes down, and Ian a few feet back. The atmosphere shifts as her slow realisation sets in.

It’s an echo of a moment all those years ago, Mandy standing in the doorway just before Mickey’s disastrous marriage to Svetlana after Ian had begged him not to go through with it.

‘Am I interrupting something?’ She asks awkwardly, and Mickey wishes his sister could just read the fucking room for once.

‘Uhhh…’ Ian begins, clearly unsure where to start but Mickey rolls his eyes because fuck this.

‘No, you’re not.’ He grunts, turning around quickly and slamming the door on the two of them - despite knowing fully well that Mandy has her own key and Ian could walk right in there anyway.

He stomps into the kitchen and paces, the filing cabinet deep in the back of his brain marked ‘IAN GALLAGHER’ breaks open like Pandora's box and decade old memories he’s tried so hard the last few years to lock up come flooding out. They fall out onto the kitchen floor and Mickey feels like he’s drowning.

I love you. What the hell does that even mean?

Shut up.

Don’t. Don’t what? Just…

Shut up.

You love me and you’re gay.

Shut up.

Ian what you and I have, makes me free.

Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up. He slams his fist into the wall, pain coursing through his knuckles and up his arm. It does nothing to relieve his anxiety, only leaving him with an inch dent in the wall he’s going to have to fork out for at some point. He can’t bring himself to care.

He pulls the fridge door open and reaches to the back for a knocked over beer. He opens it deftly and chugs it in one. It’s bitter as it goes down and does nothing to suppress the swarming unwanted thoughts.

Chugging beer in the dugouts, covered in blood, breathless. Kissing. Fucking. The taste of beer and blood and sweat lingering on each other’s lips.

‘Fuck.’ He mutters, he can’t even have a fucking drink in peace without his brain reminding him and reminding him and reminding him.

Reminding him that if Ian walked in right now, heart and arms open, Mickey would probably fall into them willingly, years worth of heartbreak be damned.

Fuck, he thought he was done with this. He’s worked so fucking hard at being done with this, but apparently, Ian Gallagher is allowed to just walk back into his life - without notice - and set fire to years of his progress.

He reaches for the fridge door and has his hand wrapped around his next beer when Mandy comes storming in, knocking it from his grip. It clatters to the floor, spinning slowly to a stop below the sink.

‘You’re a fuckin’ rude asshole, you know that?’ She spits, her face twisted and ugly.

‘Fuck off.’ He fires back, once again going to open the fridge without bothering to pick up the fallen can off the linoleum. He just wants to get fucking drunk and forget, but of course, Mickey’s not one to usually get what he wants. Mandy’s hand slams the fridge shut before Mickey can even inch it open.

‘You haven’t seen the guy in years, you could at least be fuckin’ nice.’

‘Can’t a guy have a fuckin’ beer in his own home?’ Mickey snorts, feigning nonchalance but fooling neither of them. He steps out of her glare and bends down to collect the fallen can. It’s gonna be a bitch to open, but clearly access is denied to the fridge right now. He needs another drink.

‘No wonder he fucking dropped your ass as soon as you got locked up.’

He stops. Mickey feels like he’s been slapped.

One hand grips the can and the other balls instinctively into a fist. He stares down at the floor, he can’t move, panic and anger and sadness all flare up in his chest, like broken fireworks spitting out against a dark sky. He was brought up to never use violence against women, but fuck, this is the first time in his life he feels like punching, slapping, or doing something to his sister. Making her feel even an ounce of the agony he’s dealt with for the best part of a decade.  He won’t, but his hands are shaking, his breath is rising up his throat and he wants to scream.

He doesn’t. He stays there, halfway bent down to the floor, staring at his shaking white knuckles wrapped around the Bud light in his left hand.

‘Fuck you.’ He grunts without looking up. Mandy scoffs and turns away, padding slowly into her room. Her door slams shut and Mickey’s knees buckle to the floor.

He lies on the dirty kitchen floor and breathes.

[voemae582]

The Truth Changes

She couldn't see. What happened to the sun? She was soaked, was it the rain or her tears? She's imperfect but she tries. She is good but she lies. She is hard on herself. She is broke and wont ask for help. She is messy but she's kind. She is lonely most of the time. She is all of this mixed up and baked in a beautiful pie. She is poupée de porcelain.

Chapter one: The Rain

"What?" Marinette asking in a shocked tone hoping her best friend was joking.

"I know how you feel, but I'm not going to be rude." Alya tried to reason.

"Alya, you can't trust her."

"Based on what? Your jealousy?"

Marinette couldn't believe what she was hearing. Lila invited everyone in the class to a party, and even though she invited Marinette later that day Lila told her not to bother to come. Marinette was sitting on the end of the stair at school with Alya during lunch break.

Marinette tried to stay calm. "You're right, go. But I'm not, she doesn't want me there and I'd only make the evening worse." She stood up and walked to the classroom leaving her friend still on the stairs.

Alya obviously annoyed, "You can't just run away from your problems." She commented before Marinette was out of ear shot.

When lunch was over and everyone was going into the classroom Marinette saw Alya walk in. With Lila.

Alya grabbed her bag from next to Marinette and told her she was going to sit next to Lila so she could help plan the party. Marinette not wanting to blurt something out just stayed quiet and looked out the window across the room. Of all people she made eye contact with Chloe. Chloe didn't make a harsh expression like usual, she looked more concerned for Marinette but Marinette was too distracted to notice. They both looked to the front as class started.

The next few days leading up to the party Alya sat next to Lila and by then most of the class kind of gravitated towards her. Chloe and Sabrina were still in their spots and Adrien was in the front alone after Nino went to the back to support his girlfriend. Normally Marinette would be ecstatic to be close to Adrien without anyone else, but she was busy drowning her sorrows in homework. She didn't mind her friends having fun with other people, but Lila could go from zero to a hundred quick and possibly hurt all of them in the process.

Adrien could tell Marinette had a lot on her mind so he finally turned around and tried to say hi to her. Marinette had headphones in and couldn't hear anything. He tried again with no luck. He was going to tap her to get her attention when suddenly Chloe interrupted.

"Leave her alone." Without looking up from her phone Chloe spoke.

"I just wanted to see if she-"

She set down her phone and looked at her childhood friend. "I know you mean well Adrikins." It was break time and most of the class were being noisy in the back with the four up front being completely invisible. "Sabrina, go get me something to drink."

"Of course Chloe! Be right back." Sabrina being the attentive friend she is left the classroom.

Chloe stood up and sat in Nino's seat. "I'll be frank, I don't like Marinette."

"Chloe..." Adrien grunted.

"Listen, I may not be on great terms with her, but that doesn't mean I don't think she's a, g-good person...." She took a breath as if it was the hardest thing to say. She cleared her throat and continued. "But, I don't like Lila more. The difference is, Marinette is an honest good, annoying, but good. I of all people know Lila's character, she's fake. And I may not be the right person to say this but it must be taking a toll on Dupain-Cheng since no one will believe her."

Adrien felt a tug at his chest, it hurt. "I just want to help."

"I'm sure when she needs to talk she'll find someone. Everyone needs a friend." Sabrina walked in with a drink. "Finally. What took you so long." Chloe stood up and went back to her seat and glanced at Adrien smiling.

He understood. Chloe always had Sabrina. Marinette had Alya, but at the moment Alya wasn't there. Then he heard the angelic voice, "Adrien?"

Marinette's face was pink as they starred each other in the eyes, he hadn't realized he was starring at her and she noticed. "O-oh, sorry." He made up an excuse quickly. "Can you help me with this part of the homework, it looks like you've already done it."

Marinette smile, "H-help, sure I c-can homework, I mean help homework with your Adrien!"

He laughed. "Thanks."

School was finally over for the day and it was the eve of the party. It was raining and the skies were gloomy but waiting at the front of the building was a limo. Lila arranged it to transport her classmates. Everyone was cheering and thanking Lila as they made their way to the car. Chloe and Sabrina got in her daddy's limo taking them to the hotel. Before Adrien could get into his car with the Gorilla, Lila ran over to him and took shelter under his umbrella. Marinette witnessed the horrific sight.

Lila clung to his arm, "Adrien, you're coming to my party right?"

Adrien awkwardly shook his head. "Sorry Lila, I has chinese and piano lessons today. Maybe next time?"

Adrien tried to flee into the car but Lila latched to his arms more aggressively. "Come now Adrien, you should let loose once in a while. It'll be fun."

"Lila I-"

"Let go." Lila and Adrien turned to see Marinette standing in the rain without an umbrella, she forgot it like usual.

"Was I talking to you? This is a private conversation, beat it."

"He said he can't go. Just leave him alone."

Lila stepped into the rain in front of Marinette so only she could hear. "You'll regret ever opening your mouth."

"You're a liar Lila, and he knows it too. Stop while you're ahead."

Lila put a hand to her mouth and laughed. "Think about it dimwit, he knows my true character but he's still nice to me. Anyone would be at least angry and stay away right? He obviously sees something in me, and he'll come to like me after I convince him I've got a pure heart or some crap like that. You on the other hand? You're nothing. A boring little nobody. And you'll never be anything. No one wants that."

Marinette was seeping in anger. "You know nothing about me."

"I know enough."

"Just go. Leave to your party. I'm surprised you care about me enough to get drenched."

The class was waiting in the car laughing and excited until they heard a yell from through the rain. They rolled down the windows and a few even got out and saw Lila laying on the cold cement in a puddle. Marinette standing above her in just as much shock and Adrien standing by his car a few feet from them under his umbrella.

Alya got out running to Lila with an umbrella with Kim and Ivan close by. "Marinette, what did you do!?" She helped Lila up who was crying crocodile tears.

Marinette looked at everyone starring at her. "Huh!?" she shook her head. "I-I didn't touch her! A-Adrien! Tell them!"

Everyone turned to Adrien, unfortunately he was telling the Gorilla to wait when it happened so he didn't see. "I'm sorry, I didn't see what happened." Marinette's hope shattered, the one person she could trust with Lila didn't see. "B-But!" He continued. "Marinette would never hurt anyone."

"Then how do you explain Lila being on the ground?" Max asked.

Lila wiped her face, "Obviously she pushed me! I can't help if you don't like me, or even jealous of me, but to push me in the rain after I ask you to come to my party!? How could you?" The class was astonished.

"No! That's not what happened!"

"Marinette, you need to cool your head, I'll talk to you when you set your emotions straight." Alya said while everyone took Lila to the car. It soon left.

Adrien went up to Marinette holding the umbrella over her, offering it to her. Her head was hanging low and her eyes slowly glanced up to him. Warm liquid masked the cold all over her body. They were tears.

"Marinette... I'm sorry..."

The Gorilla grunted urging Adrien to get in the car now. Marinette refused the umbrella and started to walk home. Adrien wanted to go after her but he was forced into the car and it drove off. He watched out his window until he couldn't see her figure in the rain anymore.

Marinette entered her home through the back door so she wouldn't worry her parents. Tikki flew out. "Marinette, it'll be okay." The silence made it worse and the girl stood soaking wet next the door. "Talk to me, it'll help. Are you okay?"

Marinette held out a hand for Tikki to sit on and gave her a weak sad smile. "Yeah.. I'm just tired, but don't worry Tikki, I'll bounce back."

Tikki hugged Marinette's cheek. "You know I'll always be here for you."

"I forgot my bag at school. I'll go get it, and when I get back we'll have hot coco and watch some movies." Marinette smiled a bit more convincingly.

"I'll be going with too in case any akuma attacks."

"No, It's alright, I have a feeling it'll be a quiet night. You stay, there are cookies upstairs, I wont be longer than 20 minutes. Promise. I just need time to think."

Tikki sighed, very worryingly. "Please hurry. I'll keep the bed warm for you."

"Thanks." She grabbed an umbrella thanks to Tikki and left toward the school.

With Marinette's unfortunate luck half way there the wind took the umbrella from her hands and into the street where it was run over. She was back to walking in the rain. "I swear I'm as unlucky as Chat Noir." She got to the school and made her way to the classroom. 

She grabbed her bag and left her desk stopping in the middle of the classroom. Suddenly a flood of memories and emotions ran through her. She remembered Lila turning everyone on her with her lies. The looks on their faces. Accusing her. Anger. Sadness. Lost. Alone.

She couldn't tell the difference between the rain and her tears. What was dripping from her face? What made the puddle at her feet? What was cold and warm? What was she doing? Who was she? It was getting dark fast. Water blurred her vision and she couldn't see. Rain fall filled her ears and she couldn't hear. The moment was numb.

One thing she was certain of, she was drowning.

[elanska]

Miss Not So Sidekick - chapter 87

our chapter opened with the head librarian (his name kinda long, so we'll call him important reminder) said he's waiting for someone from the magic tower to do maintenance for the recently bought CCTV orb today. Arwin, smiling briliantly, speaks out that it will be him. Latte reconfirms, and important reminder - upon seeing that brilliant sparkles of beauty and grace, quickly prostrate himself while having nosebleed.

Latte, already used to her hubby's forbidden charms capturing the hearts of everyone (and their grandma, and probably their little dog too) just smile and comment the obvious "I think he's your fan' (no duh! detective!Latte). Arwin just, "ah, the usual" (we want to say he's arrogant, but damn he's pretty!)

(also, uh, I can't picture the jealousy!are you cheating on me-drama once they get married. Pretty girls will be like, take one glance at her hubby, prostrating themselves upon this unearthly beauty and Latte goes, 'yeah, familiar sight'; and Arwin goes 'indeed') ***ABSOLUTELY NOBODY DARES TO APPROACH LATTE TO FLIRT IF THEY STILL VALUE THEIR LIVES***)

important reminder dashed to get the CCTV orb but Arwin is not the Lord of magician's tower just for the pretty face, he directly summoned the orb and grin like, veereee sadistically about what awaits the true culprit. Apawn and inside jobs like 'oh god! we're screwed!!' (serve you right! you bitches! how dare you to try to entrap our cute latte! and you inside jobs! how dare you besmirch our image of librarian being the keeper of multiple dimension within books and being secretly master assassin, you know, like crossover between doctor strange and john wick....but this girl dared to sully that reputation just because threatened/bribed by some silly noble girl??? GRAAAAAA!!!). Latte, the good girl she is feeling bad for those two (wut? butbutbut Latte, girl...), so she try to appeal to her hubby....

hmm? it's not? eh, Latte pointing out that since Arwin is came to the library to CCTV's maintenance, shouldn't he, like, can skip the hassle and just pointed out the culprit? (eh, like, in original novel? so tower's finance going down isn't because Latte getting bishot for free?) (I would also pointed out that in original novel, Arwin is, like, flinging the culprit all over the library, while in Latte's route, he's pretty calm. Well, he's playing around with Latte....maybe he's like big dog who have much playing/exercising to be not aggressive? or maybe he'll just playing with Latte first and then proceed to wreck the culprit afterwards? I meant, Ibelin with her goody-goody girl act should goes 'oh noes, please spare the culprit live, my good sir' or something like that right?)

oops, getting distracted. anyway, Latte pointed out that Arwin can instantly known the culprit (thanks to the CCTV. Or probably in original Ibelin's route, Arwin probably just stalking her around from the start so he can tell immediately about the culprit. am still doesn't give up about relation about Latte and tower's finance, guys....though, if this fantasy setting, the magicians should just do a guild quest or something, seriously, are you magicians or shopkeeper?). Where was I? oh yeah, Arwin should know immediately how to recognize the culprit, yet he goes 'are you the culprit, dear customer?' and goofing around with the investigation. Arwin just laughed and admitted that he's just standby and enjoying the whole show because he thought it was 1. funny and 2. he's curious about Latte's reaction, and kinda surprised that Latte is like, very calm, and not getting flustered.

Latte is like, getting flustered? over a stupid, shoddy plot? (ooof burnt ya there Peridot). If there's recording, Latte's alibi will be quickly proven, and she can also have her household provide testimony for her. Apawn quickly crumbled and start to confess that she's threatened to do so (really? you seem having no conscience at all when framing Latte, what's with the finger pointing and smug face?! GRAAAA!!) and that she would be killed if she didn't complied.

People asked who ordering her, and Apawn said she didn't know, they're wearing cloak and the carriage is covered in black fabric........but! she can see Garnet emblem between the fabric gap! People are shocketh! and Kenneth (oh he's still here, hey don't be rude to mah friend Kenneth, okay, but he's so quiet that we tended to forget he's still here, also quite strange he didn't fussed over Ibelin and keep standing in front of Latte. that's because mah friend is still accused just like, 15 second ago, you know? Fine, fine). okay, so Kenneth said, are you trying to lie again? Apawn crying and swearing it's the truth. People are fussing over about this shocking revelation (meanwhile, I'm questioning myself why the hell you are hellbent on following instruction from someone you didn't even know . If it's the powerful Garnett family that threatened you, then sure, you might get afraid of crossing them and then just do the task. But someone you didn't know just strolled at you and then ordered you to do something and you just do it? I meant, if my boss asking me to lent him money to buy lunch because he forgot his wallet, sure, I'll do that. but if a stranger come to me in restaurant and say 'hey you, your boss and I just eating together and we forgot our wallet. foot our bill.' - I'll at least called my boss first to ensure this is not a scam. Or is the Garnet family reputation so tarnished that people just go 'oh yeah, totally a Garnet style' and just done it anyway? (but the mob on the library fussing on how 'are you sure?' 'need to investigate blahblah'). Wait, they don’t outrightly said IMPOSSIBRU! what's wrong with the Garnet? do they frequently do this kind of thing often?)

On the other side, Latte start monologuing how Peridot's true objective isn't framing Latte nor offing Ibelin-by-falling-bookshelves, but by open investigation for her involvement so Peridot can play victim and aggressively try to prove her innocence. AND I DON'T UNDERSTAND WHY SHE WOULD DO THAT???? I meant, why? why do you need to entrap yourself so you can be crying 'I've been framed! I've been framed!' (perhaps so if she trying to hurt Ibelin again in the future, she will use this case as reference? Like? 'ehhh, somebody trying to frame me /again/?' this is the scary girl that like, trying to get 3 birds with one stone (Latte getting framed and became her follower out of fear, Ibelin getting hurt, and Peridot getting suspicion immunity on the future). Her plot for ensnare Latte quickly unravels tho since it's so messy and Latte has quite an alibi (though it was because of CCTV orbs. Hmmmmm, the Ectrie household might be not much of alibi since they could accused of defending her impartially, but the /rumor/ will drag Latte down regardless (ooooh, so this is rumor attack from noble lady fights)

Arwin (again, asserting his closeness to Latte by whispering close to her. Ha! take take that ma friend Kenneth!) asking how does Latte feels to suddenly got revelation that her case is actually part of bigger conspiracy with ominous shadow looming *DUNDUNDUN* Latte plays it cool, bro. Arwin asks aren't you scared? she shrugged that she doesn't have reason to be scared because she's not the actual target anyway. HUH WHAT

oh yeah, forgot that in Peridot's eyes, Ibelin is still the female lead *snicker snicker* ****Wait, don't laugh, us, it's better for Peridot thinking that way**** so her trying to frame Latte maybe just as an afterthought. The most important thing is to make Ibelin having accident and then Peridot will play victim? (no, sorry, Latte, we're still confused, but we'll trust your word on this). Excited Arwin is cute tho.

Arwin listening to Latte's explanation about how Peridot will likely denying her involvement by making the trap (her crest) very obvious in the first place (she can making various excuse how somebody borrowing her carriage or some criminal plagiarized the crest to implicate her, Important thing is that she's being framed! framed! I tell you! - eh does she meant that she wanted the 'some criminal plagiarize my family crest so whatever vile doing done in the future by some criminal plagiarize my family crest is unrelated to me?' Ohhhh???? OHHHHHHHHH!!!! ss...so that's why she want to get 'caught' on this first offense! de....detective Latte! *worship*).

Arwin makes a comment how he's surprised that Latte is sharper than he thought. Latte is haha, how stupid have you been seeing me till now then?

and Arwin, responded. *we facepalmed*

[kariachi]

Okay, episode Heat of the Moment isn’t gonna happen because the audio was just, so bad y’all. So bad. I couldn’t make out words. Instead I’m skipping forward to Vin Diagram, since fuck it I’m already skipping shit for the sake of seeing Kevin when I can so why not.

As I stated last night, I’m gonna be watching the ‘season 4′ Kevin episodes before finishing season 3 for various reasons, one of which is I fucking want to.

Onward! Give me my boy!

~~

Hi Gwen. Nice dramatic suit-up intro.

Max... Max no.

Ben watches races for crashes (boy what is wrong with you). This race, meanwhile, is a charity event for a sanctuary for endangered animals. How nice.

Ben sees no point if there aren’t explosions. Boy go play Mario Kart or something.

Hi Kevin. What are you skulking about for?

Ben also is curious/concerned

So we at least know this episode definitely takes place directly after Heat of the Moment. Great. That makes my job much easier, I can throw them both up, kinda. Look I’ll figure it out.

Ben: Clearly he’s up to something, I must stop him! Gwen: ....o-kaaaay?

Also yes Ben, that is very suspicious the child going Quad Smack to carry tires. Slow deep breathes.

“Dweeby Dweebyson” You boys are as bad as each other, I swear to fuck.

I feel like this exchange would be more amusing had I seen the episode before this, but it’s amusing enough on it’s own that I’ll allow it.

Also Kevin calling Ben ‘a paranoid baby’ and Ben raring for a fight because like hell Kevin’s not up to something.

These children, everybody. Even Gwen’s just, ‘this is our normal now, one of them sees the other and suddenly tires are flying’

You did start it Ben, Kevin just ended it.

Also hi Vin.

And Vin just picks them up off the ground, treating it like they were just playing which... right now, no, but I do have an image of them five years from now where this is just, how their friendship is. 

Kevin is just having a good day so far. Ben, not so much.

Ben, shocked Vin knows Kevin.

...Vin and Kevin met when Vin caught Kevin trying to steal his car, became friends when Kevin straight up admitted it and Vin decided he could respect an honest answer.

Ben is put out. Very pout. Much Tennyson.

Vin “This child has so much raw talent, I must teach him, guide him into a future as an amazing engineer and mechanic” Ethanol.

Kevin is smug. Probably at least 50% because someone thinks he has talent and wants to nurture that talent.

Kevin and Vin fistbump, Ben dies inside out of pure jealous horror.

Ben, insisting that Kevin is so awful that he can turn a grown man back to a life of crime, and that clearly if Vin wants to be a good guy he should be mentoring him. Because he’s totally all about practicality and Vin’s good name here, not at all about being jealous that Kevin found a really cool mentor. Definitely not. Never.

Oh gods I just realized the Cadobit is a mascot now! And apparently an endangered species? Dudes there’s only one, and they’re not a natural species, it don’t count. Jurassic Park 2 all over again.

Max- certain Vin isn’t a good rolemodel because criminal. Gwen- “maybe we should give them a chance, they might be good influences on each other”. Ben- already running off to put a stop to this blasphemy.

“Look Kev, you get yourself a solid American muscle car and everything you do looks cooler.” I think he knows that, given he tried to steal yours.

Also Kevin is so small he can’t lean the engine bay and have his feet anywhere near the ground. My son.

Hi Ben.

Kevin about to beat Ben’s ass for interrupting his mentor time. If that look doesn’t scream ‘if you don’t have a place to be I can tell you where to go-’

Kevin ‘You have a whole family, let me have this’ Levin

Vin, trying to bring a base level of manners to the children’s interactions. It’s not likely to work, Vin, I’ve met them, they’re just like this. Kevin takes more work than that. Also he seems confused at your comment. There could be a million reasons for that.

Ben trying to pull the ‘Kevin doesn’t have a car and so is not involved’ card. Which is rude, I think.

And lo, Bootleg returns.

Possesses Vin’s car and Vin is impressed.

“I have an alien like that too! Or I used to.” “Bummer. If I were you I’d have kept it.”

Vin telling Ben to have fun in the race, together the three of them are gonna help save a lot of endangered animals, and Ben is most certain that is not the point of tonight anymore. From now on the point of tonight is to prove to Kevin’s only decent adult figure that he should drop Kevin for him.

Kevin doing a donut before heading to the starting line. Nobody who has seen this boy in any other series is shocked. He’d probably do a donut with a jet if given the opportunity.

And Ben kicks Gwen out of Glitch so he can race instead. Note he does this at the starting line. Max come control this child.

Mary Jo! It’s Mary Jo! This episode is officially better just for her being here! No lines but damnit she exists and she’s here, the queer icon of the franchise!

Ben is so very behind because Glitch just is not about that aggressive driving life.

Going Heatblast, Ben please. This is a charity event for fuck’s sake.

Vin being all mentory.

Ben, trying to impress. Just let Kevin have this, Ben.

Vin, calling Ben out on forgetting this is for charity.

Kevin, meanwhile, is just done with Ben existing in the same space as his mentor figure. How dare. Go away.

Congratulations Vin, you are now seeing the messed up child you are dealing with. He’s workable he’s just, got issues that need dealing with and no real way to manage them healthily I think. A good parental figure and a therapist would do this boy wonders. It’s just, nobody ever seems ready to give him either.

Damn, Kevin, fucking chill. He has a decent mentor now and he is not taking threats to that well.

Vin is not pleased.

Well Ben, you’re getting your explosions. Happy now? Also I like how Kevin is apparently throwing the race in favor of fucking up Ben for daring to try to steal Vin. My poor son.

Gwen, forcibly removing Ben’s head from his ass.

Kev vs Vin for the sake of ‘just how much damage is Kev allowed to do’. None. The answer is none.

Gwen calling for a pitstop so she can chew Ben out for fucking everything up for everybody in person.

There was almost an emotional moment there- not a breakthrough but a moment (realized he fucked up the race? check. realizing he ruined Gwen’s chance to participate in the race like she wanted? check. admittance that he did all this purely out of jealousy and that Kevin was doing literally nothing wrong for once in his life until Ben made it his business to provoke him? not even close)- and then Kevin and Vin literally fucking spun passed and suddenly it’s all Rath and back to the fray.

Gwen, grabbing Glitch and joining the fray in hopes of talking some sense into the complete mess that is these people

This entire night is a disaster.

And Kev vs Vin is still ongoing. Kevin’s issues with authority have returned for yet another round. Today on ‘Did somebody really just try to control Kevin? Fuck.’

Why is this episode taking me two hours? Because every time I unpause things get worse.

“Listen kid, when you time out, we are gonna have a long talk about good sportsmanship!” Oh Vin. I was concerned but this gives me hope. I doubt Kevin will stick around for it because, well, Kevin and Issues, but it’s the thought that counts.

Poor Vin’s car

“I don’t even car about the stupid race anymore, this is personal!” While becoming Bashmouth. Oh Kevin. And don’t think I haven’t noticed that the two times you’ve treated things as being personal were when Ben made that comment on your not having anyone to run back to and now, when Ben was actively trying to steal a positive adult figure from you.

Max swears he’s a better role model than Vin. I don’t think anyone really agrees Max.

Vin’s even being encouraging towards Gwen, he really needs to stop. He’s not winning me, I refuse.

Vin carries hunks of meat around. Has he experienced Bashmouth before? Or is he just like this?

He’s just like this.

Luring the boys with a steak.

Welp, Kevin has been distracted by an antenna ornament. Oh child. My son.

“Ben you have to save Kevin, he could get hurt!” “Good!” Benjamin Kirby Tennyson!

Kevin, not happy that Ben is being complimented. Ben? Pleased as punch.

The race is over and Vin is getting tired of fighting children.

Kevin trying to pull the ‘I don’t care anyway’ card with regards to fighting over Vin with Ben. Really these children are just... children.

These boys

Wide-eyed Kevin, a rare sight.

Vin called them 7-yos and the affront on these children’s faces. Also Ben’s talk about molding Vin in the ideal role model, like Kevin did none of that Ben, you are on your own.

Kevin storms off and Vin actively lets him now he can still come to him for help.

Money laundering, Vin, really.

At least the man’s honest about it, and just going along with being arrested.

10/11