#But it wasn’t announced in big flashy text | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

avatarmerida · 3 years

Text

Walking Home

This is inspired by @buggachat’s Bakery AU. I hope this is okay because I love this idea so much and I loved the winery arc. I wrote this assuming Adrien also lives at the bakery, though I don’t know.

——————————————————————————

“Okay no, no first of all they did NOT kick us out because I spilled. But IF did they did then that’s your fault!” Marinette exclaimed as the four of them left the restaurant.

“I didn’t mean that time,” clarified a bubbly Adrien as he ran ahead. “I meant when you kept turning the glasses into microphones and trying to get everyone to sing when they were still pretty full.”

“No! No! No!” she insisted, running up to him and giving him a gently tap on shoulder. “It was because you kept making chicken noises and they were awful!”

“They were amazing.”

“I don’t think you’ve ever heard a chicken,” she said smugly as she attempted to suppress her laughter at the memory. “It was so high pitched.”

“Bawk bawk bawk,” said Adrien quietly. Seeing Marinette suppress more laughter, he kept going and got louder. She couldn’t stand still, the laughter causing her to bend in half unable to catch her breath. Making her laugh was somehow so addicting and so he kept doing the awful chicken noise, getting higher and louder and faster. Passerbys gave them strange looks and rolled their eyes. Alya couldn’t help but smile at the thought that everyone who saw them must assume they were lifelong friends. Maybe even more than that.

“Oh wow I didn’t realize how late it was,” announced Alya, pretending to check her phone. She was fairly certain the two forgot her and Nino were there. “Ugh, I’ve got an interview scheduled for the blog at 8am.”

“Yeah and I’ve got to wake her up otherwise she’ll never get there on time,” added Nino with a laugh, catching on quickly. Adrien and Marinette snapped out of their bubble, seeing suddenly how ridiculous they must seem.

“We should do this again soon though,” said Alya. “All of us,” she added, looking at Adrien.

“Yeah, this was fun,” said Marinette, sneaking a glance at Adrien (though he didn’t notice) before turning back to Alya. “Are you okay to get home?”

“Yeah, we’re gonna grab a taxi,” said Alya. “What about you two? Are you okay? You didn’t switch to water when Nino and I did.”

“That was water? I thought you guys just switched to white wine,” asked Adrien. Nino chuckled and handed Adrien his phone so the two could make plans to hang out later in the week.

While the boys talked, Alya pullled Marinette into a hug to supposedly say goodbye.

“No girl, for real are you okay to get home? We can drop you off,” she whispered.

“No it’s okay you guys live the opposite way and you need to get up early,” whispered Marinette back. “The bakery isn’t that far and It’s not like I’m walking alone.”

“Exactly,” said Alya, pulling away but making sure the boys were too distracted by their conversation to hear theirs. “I know tonight was fun but you didn’t start the day being Adrien’s biggest fan. You’re okay walking home with him?”

“Yes Alya I’m fine,” she hiccuped. “I’m not even that drunk.”

“Marinette!” Adrien called suddenly, very excited. “Can we make pizza at the bakery?!”

“Oh my god pizzaaaaaa!” She exclaimed far too loudly, throwing her hands in the air. “Yes, yes let’s go! Bye Alya!”

She ran ahead and Adrien excitedly and instinctively followed her, the two a collection of giggle and hiccups stumbling between the street lights.

“Text me when you get home!” Alya called after the pair. They were quite a sight. She couldn’t help but smile at the fact that this morning Marinette couldn’t say his name without grimacing and now they were rushing off into the night. She wondered how Marinette would feel about the blonde boy tomorrow.

“Pizza, pizza, pizza!” The two exclaimed as they trudged down the sidewalk.

“Okay I know we have dough and cheese I don’t know if we have any pizza sauce,” said Marinette raking her brain. “Do we want toppings? Because I think we just have sprinkles, maybe we-ahhh!” Suddenly the ground came rushing at her, but before she had time to process what was happening she was stopped inches from the pavement. She looked up and saw Adrien had caught her in the knick of time. His hands were on her waist as if he was dipping her in a some eleaborate dance. The streetlight above him reflected on his golden hair like a halo.

He really was a good model, she couldn’t help but think as she found herself drawn to his light like an innocent moth.

“Sorry,” he said realizing the position they were in. “Force of habit, I guess. I didn’t mean, I mean I-.”

“Don’t apologize,” she breathed, not attempting to remove herself from his grip. “You’ve just got like catlike reflexes.”

“Yeah, I maybe??” He laughed. He couldn’t even explain her own pun to her as he pulled her to her feet. “Hehe, uh sorry if I distracted you again.”

“No, no it’s my own fault, I’m extra clumsy when I’m drunk,” she explained, bashful suddenly for some reason. “I’m a regular public menace. But thanks for not letting me fall on my face.”

He smiled. “Anytime,” he stood up straight and offered her his arm. “To ensure you don’t fall again,” he explained.

The logic of his reasoning negated any objections her former view of him held at the ready. He didn’t have to be kind to her when it was just them, and this must be why she held onto his arm so firmly and allowed herself to be so close as they walked. She suddenly felt guilty for her ulterior motives in inviting him out. The skeptic in her wanted to point out that maybe he was faking being drunk, or was so well versed at deception that alcohol had no affect on his ability to lie. But a larger part of her just wanted to rest her head on his shoulder as he led her home, contently listening to him ramble.

“Okay but why isn’t pizza a pastry?” he continued. “Like a lot of baked goods have cheese, they all have dough. Is it the sauce? But donuts have filling and the tomato is a fruit, I think-?”

“Maybe pizza can be your menu speciality,” she murmured, following the voice that told her to rest her head. “But you can give it a fun name and make it look different so they won’t know it’s pizza until they taste it. You’d think of a good name, you’re funny.”

“I’m funny?” he asked, genuinely surprised and flattered.

“I’m drunk, who knows what I’m saying,” she joked. “I’ll deny it but yes you are funny. I like when you write puns on the specials board.”

“Really?” He chuckled. “I didn’t think you’d be a fan of bad puns.”

“I’ve heard worse,” she murmured, her mouth moving faster than her mind. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“Like what?” he tried, trying to careful in this new territory, but fighting his catlike curiosity . “Are you a secret comedian?”

“No, no but I was in love with a boy who made puns a lot,” she said quietly, almost just to herself. “It seems so silly but now whenever I hear a good one I write it down so I don’t forget. So I can tell it to him. But I’m never gonna see him again. That’s so stupid isn’t it?”

He saw tears forming in her eyes. “I think it’s sweet,” he said. “Is he someone you meet in New York? On your internship?”

She stopped, her mind had brought up another similarly between him and Chat Noir and that was extra confusing right now. But she hadn’t had anyone to talk to about Chat and it felt nice to share something about him aloud. She had to tread carefully though.

“I’m sorry if you don’t wanna talk about it,” said Adrien before she could find the words. “It’s none of my business.”

“No, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” he continued, gently removing his arm from her. “You’ve already done so much for me, helping me at the bakery, letting me into your home, inviting me out tonight . You’re a very kind person Marinette and I’ve invaded so much of your space already, I shouldn’t be invading your privacy.”

“No, Adrien please it is okay,” she insisted. “I brought it up. And I... I’ve never brought it up to anyone before, to be honest. And it must be because... I like talking to you. Because-.”

“-of the wine?” He offered.

“-because we’re friends,” she finished, looking up at him with soft, truthful eyes.

“I think it is the wine,” he joked, only half certain.

“Here, I’ll prove it,” she said, keeping her purse and rummaging through its contents. Finally she found what she was searching for. “Here,” she said, placing something in his hand.

“What is this?”

“My lucky charm,” she said proudly, as he opened his hand to reveal a simple keychain composed of colorful beads. “I made it during my internship, it helped me when I had deadlines or a creativity block. I take it everywhere.”

“And you’re giving this to me?”

“Well I still plan on needing it and having it close by, so I wouldn’t just entrust it to someone I don’t want in my space would I? It’s probably not as flashy as the friendship bracelets Chloe made you but-.”

She was cut off as Adrien pulled her into a tight embrace. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

She hesitated, but returned the gesture. “You’re welcome,” she said as the two stood in the middle of the sidewalk, embracing for probably a little too long. “Adrien, since we’re friends, I think I should be honest with you.”

He pulled back to face her, his face still holding a smile despite her dismal tone. “What is it?”

“Today, when I invited you...” she began, her pride almost too big a pill to swallow. “Well, I had ulterior motives for inviting you.”

“Really?”

“I thought, oh god I’m so embarrassed,” she pushed through. “I though you had ... a secret.”

“A secret?”

“Yes,” she buried her face in her hands, utterly embarrassed. “Ugh, and I thought it you got drunk enough you would blurt it out. And that’s so awful of me and I know it’s dishonest, but I promise you it’s not like that anymore. I was paranoid, I guess. I don’t know. But I’m so sorry. really do enjoy spending time with you-.”

“What kind of secret?”

“Huh?” She said, surprised he wasn’t mad. “Oh, i-it doesn’t matter. It was still wrong of me.”

“Well why couldn’t you ask me about it before?”

“I didn’t have any sort of proof,” she admitted. “Only a hunch.”

“Why?” He asked. He wasn’t mad but she couldn’t place his tone. People must have accused him of this before. She knew now he wasn’t his father, he was more than whatever his past held, and he didn’t deserve another faker. She knew he’d ask what she suspected and it would ruin everything but maybe she could make it less awful if she kept apologizing?

“Nothing major, just because of how you acted around me-.”

“I see.”

“-but I know now I was completely wrong,” she quickly went on. “Getting to know you tonight and spending more time with you at the bakery, I know I was wrong.”

“Oh,” was that all he could say? Oh?!

“Because you’re just so nice!” She went on, her drunk brain turning to rambling. “You’re actually a really great guy, and you’re just quiet at first, you’re ... a friend...”

“Just a friend?” He asked, the word holding his attention tight.

“Yes,” she said, hoping he was considering accepting her apology. “And I- oh darn it.” Suddenly, a raindrop fell onto Marinette’s cheek. Then another. Without warning the sky began to pour, and the pair sought shelter. Adrien took off his jacket and placed it over Marinette’s head to attempt and shield her from the rain, a fruitless attempt as the jacket immediately became soaked and heavy and helpful to no one.

As they made their way through the waterfall that claimed the sidewalk, an abandoned umbrella leaning against a building caught Adrien’s eye. He swooped in to grab and quickly opened it over Marinette’s head. “Ugh, I can’t see,” she cried, the rain causing her eye makeup to run and sting her eyes. She wiped it away, only to smudge it and give cover her face with a charcoal color. Adrien laughed.

“Mademoiselle Hamster, you look more like a raccoon now,” he wheezed. Before Marinette could offer a clever response, she saw the rain continued to fall on him as she was safely covered.

“You’re going to catch pneumonia,” she stated angrily.

“It’s not a very big umbrella,” he said, still laughing.

“Nonsense,” she said, yanking the umbrella handle to spin him in. “I’m not about to let you get sick and stick me with all the work at the bakery.”

But the umbrella was very small. And in order for them both to be covered, they had to stand very close together.

“Fine by me,” breathed Adrien, looking down at Marinette. She stood in front of him, her hands landing instinctively on his chest as if they were slow dancing. She was aware of this, but did not remove them. Her eyes went to the ground, not being about to handle the closeness with eye contact. In one hand Adrien held the umbrella, the other one slowly went to removed a strand of wet hair from her face. A bolt of lighting graced the sky.

“You were right you know,” he said quietly, the rain almost drowning him out.

“About what?”

“About my secret,” he said with a chuckle. “I thought I hid it well, but I guess I made it really obvious.”

“What?” Said Marinette, looking up at him is disbelief, her hands trembled. “No, no you’re still drunk, you don’t know what you’re saying. No, no I know now... after everything that happened it can’t be true.”

“Do you... not want it to be true?”

“I guess it doesn’t really matter what I want,” she admitted, bowing her head again. “Either it’s true or it’s not.”

“I promise you, it’s very true,” said Adrien, his voice softer than she had ever heard but somehow insanely familiar. He placed his free hand under her chin and lead her to meet his gaze.

“Wait, what did you think I-.”

“Marinette, I’m sorry that I couldn’t be more direct with you,” he began. “But I didn’t think I’d ever feel this way again since... you’re so amazing and I- I’m done keeping secrets; I do have feelings for you.”

“W-what kind of feelings?” she asked, a tiny portion of her intoxicated little mind convinced he was angry with her.

Adrien closed his eyes and leaned in close to her and his lips stopped mere inches from her own. Hesitating. Waiting. Silence. She looked at him, no streetlight caught his hair now but the shine remained. The glow was just him. He wasn’t a spy, he wasn’t a traitor, he wasn’t a villain. Her mind ran with things he was not until suddenly she realized what he was. Kind. Handsome. Funny. Charming. She had taken these things for granted before and thought they were lost and locked away forever. It was like they were reincarnated, her heart fluttered in an nearly forgotten familiar way as if to say she had been here before. As if to say this is exactly where she was meant to be.

Lighting crashed in the distance.

She chased the feeling and eliminated the space between them, drawn to him like he was magnetic. She could could blame it on the wine. She could blame it on the rain. She could blame it on the way his eyes were so gentle and vibrant at the same time like a lush green forest she wanted to explore until she was hopelessly lost. But she crashed into him like a she was a tidal wave, her arms wrapping around his neck as she pulled herself up to kiss him. He stepped back, surprised but pleased and tossed aside the umbrella in favor of having both his arms around her as he eagerly kissed her back. He lifted her off the ground, perhaps a little too overzealous, and the pair found themselves on the ground in the middle of a puddle. Only then did they break apart, like a dream they were rudely awakened from, and Marinette found herself laying on top of him.

Adrien looked at her, eyes wide and curious, awaiting a sign of how she felt. Even now, with her eyeliner smudged and her hair soaking wet, his heart skipped a beat in way it hadn’t done in years. What was she thinking? Should he say something? His mind raced with what to say next, he had imagined this confession thousands of times since he realized his feelings, but none of his scenarios went quite like this. He didn’t want to risk ruining anything, if there was even something to ruin. He played the last minute over and over in his head like a romantic film scene. He smiled a wide smile and if Marintee didn’t know any better, she could have sworn he was purring.

Marinette took that as her signal to lean forward, slower and more graceful than the first attempt and kissed him again. It was less rushed and more gentle, but also more certain. The umbrella was carried away by the wind, the two seemed to have forgotten about the rain or any storms between them.

The next day, Marinette awoke feeling sicker than she had ever felt in her life. Not only did she have a massive hangover, but being stuck in the rain had given her a terrible cold as well. Her body couldn’t decide which unpleasant feeling to focus on so she remained in bed, cursing the world.

“Hey girl,” came Alya’s voice from the doorway. “Heard you weren’t feeling too good.”

“Alya I’m dying,” moaned Marinette.

“Were you so busy dying that you couldn’t text me that you go home safely?” laughed Alya, removing the pillow from her face. “Omigosh you didn’t even wash your face last night. You really were trashed.”

“Ugh I don’t even remember it raining last night, but I woke up soaked,” complained Marinette.

“Wait, you don’t remember it raining?”

“No, after we said goodbye to you and Nino the night it a total blur.”

“Oh, does Adrien remember the rain?”

“I don’t know, we don’t talk,” Marinette reminded her, covering her head with a blanket. “I don’t know what I said to him on the walk home, but my throat is killing me so it feels like I was yelling.

“Wait, you don’t remember anything from the walk home?”

“No,” repeated Marinette. “Why? Did I drunk dial you or something?”

“Uh, no,” said Alya with a mischievous smile. “But when it started to rain I told the cab driver to drive by your place to see if you guys got caught in the rain and I’m so glad I did because I saw something very interesting.”

“What?”

Alya simply handed Marinette her phone and braced herself for the reaction she knew was coming. Marinettte had to do a double take at first. But there was no mistaking this was a picture of her. And Adrien. Kissing.

“WHAT?!” She exclaimed, giving herself a worse headache. “Ouch. Ugh, Alya please tell me this is photoshopped, this is a joke right?”

“Not this time, I am an eyewitness,” assured her friend. “I saw everything.”

“Oh my god, I can’t believe he kissed me,”

“Well you shouldn’t because if you go back a little bit you see it’s clear as day who kissed whom,”

“What?” But it was true. She swiped back and forth and there was no arguing that she pulled him in, she reached up, she kissed him. Twice. “Oh no.”

“Oh, don’t be embarrassed,” said Alya taking back her phone. “If kissing a former model in the rain is the worst thing you’ve done after drinking, that’s nothing to be ashamed of. I don’t see why you don’t like him anyway, you two got along so well yesterday.”

“Oh no no no I just thought it was another dream!”panicked Marinette.

“Another?” Teased Alya. “So you often dream about kissing Adrien?”

Only when he’s working with his supervillain father “I’m never drinking again,” vowed Marinette, burying her head in her hands. “Please tell me no one else saw those photos.”

“Just me and Nino, but I’m keeping them for blackmail,” confirmed Alya as she headed for the door. “Or to show at your wedding.”

Marinette threw a pillow at the door, just missing her friend as she took her leave. What had gotten into her? Besides copious amounts of wine, that is. She prayed that Adrien’s memory of last night was even foggier than hers. She wished she had Tikki with her to talk her through this without any judgment but she just had her. And all she could do was panic.

“Hey, are you up?” Came a small voice accompanied by a knock on her door. “I just saw Alya leave and I wanted to check on you if that’s okay.”

It was Adrien. “Um yeah, I’m fine. Just tired, I guess,” she replied. He didn’t come in, she didn’t invite him. He was still wary of her. That must be as good sign, right?

“A headache?” He chuckled knowingly. “I had one too. I made a smoothie and that kind of helped. I can bring you one. Or leave it in the kitchen for you.”

“Thanks,” she said awkwardly. Silence stood between them for what felt like hours.

“Listen, about last night,” Adrien said at last. Marinette braced herself for the worst.

“Yeah?”

“I wanted to say thank you,” he said outside the door. “It meant a lot, you guys inviting me out. I had a lot of fun, well the parts I remember anyway.”

“Do you... remember walking home?”

“Hardly,” he admitted. “Apparently it rained?”

She laughed. “Go figure,” she said. She cousins sent he was right: she did enjoy the parts she remembered. “But um thank you too for helping me get home safely. You’re a good friend.”

The sound of the word made him blush, he was grateful she couldn’t see his face. “Anytime,” he said. “Feel better, I guess I’ll see you later?”

“See ya,” she said, as she heard him walk away from the door and flopped on her bed in relief. Crisis averted.

Adrien made his way down the stairs, Marinette’s keychain in hand. The moments of last night replayed in his head. It was blurry to him as well, but a few moments stood out to him. Mostly, the way she said ‘lucky charm’ and the way her smudged makeup resembled a mask.

#miraculous ladybug fanfiction #miraculous #bakery enemies au #miraculous ladybug #adrienette #ladynoir

146 notes · View notes

readyplayerhobi · 4 years

Text

Flower | 40 | End

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, angst

; Word Count: 6.9k

; Warnings: Slight anxiety attack, mentions of panic, slight body issues

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: So...this is it 😢 Flower is officially over! I started writing this on November 15th, 2019. Almost a year later, here we are with 40 chapters, 3 drabbles and 180k of words. Can you believe I actually finished it? I hope you’ve all enjoyed reading it and the journey of the MC finding herself and falling in love with Hoseok. It’s been so fun to write and it’s sad to let it go. If you’ve enjoyed reading this, please let me know with a comment or an ask! I’ve loved reading how much you’ve all felt seen or embraced by the MC with her struggles and I’d love to hear your thoughts on not only this chapter but the whole fic! Feedback is what keeps authors going and I came very close to leaving writing once Flower was finished but I’m still going to carry on. I’m not sure if this chapter is good or not, but I hope you enjoy it anyway and think it a fitting end to the story!

; Flower Masterpost

“Okay...okay. Let’s do this...you can do this. It’s easy. Just...walk down the aisle. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? Well, Hoseok could not be there or I could have a heart attack and drop down dead. That would suck. But it would resolve a lot of my issues, I wouldn’t have to worry about everyone watching me. On the other hand...I’m going to marry the love of my life. As long as he turns up” The soft sounds of your muttering are probably barely heard over the soft playing music through the speakers in the room, YouTube playing mindlessly to itself.

It was a good job, as it meant that no one else in the room could hear your panicked thoughts that were being verbalised. Hoseok and you had decided to get married at an exquisite mansion hotel with the ceremony itself being in the elegant gardens outside. There was a full-sized maze alongside a stunning fountain, the centrepiece being a marble depiction of Aphrodite rising from the shallows.

You’d taken a walk around the perfectly groomed gardens the night before, taking in all the decorations that you’d painstakingly picked out over the months that had been artfully arranged by the staff. The flowers in the gardens were beautiful, a smorgasbord of pinks, oranges, violets, reds and yellows that brought the whole area to life. Alongside it looking visually perfect, it also smelled amazing as well with the soft scent of different flowers mixing.

At night, the tiny fairy lights that had been strung up around the building front and the metal trellises that were organised in the garden gave off a soft, golden glow. It made the whole place look ethereal and you were excited for everyone else to get to see it during the reception tonight.

The actual wedding ceremony was scheduled to start at two in the afternoon, with only friends and family invited for that. It would be outside as well, with Hoseok and you standing at the end of a make-shift aisle on the lawn section of the hotel’s garden. Temporary chairs had been arranged on both sides for your guests, dark wood with ivory silk draped over everyone. At the end of the aisle, each chair had a silk bow in ivory and deep purple alongside a bouquet of specially arranged flowers.

It all looked perfect and you’d marvelled at it yesterday, amazed that they’d managed to bring your vision to life. Now all you had to do was walk down it and get married, which was where you were a little panicked.

The room that had been assigned to the bridal party was on the lower floor of the hotel, reducing the risk of you potentially killing yourself by tripping over your dress while walking down the stairs. It was technically two hotel rooms connected through a shared bathroom, which you found bizarre.

Your mom and Hoseok’s mom had taken the other room for their use to get changed, the hairdresser and makeup artist they’d hired working there to make them look their best for the ceremony. Even now, you could hear them chattering and laughing away with each other. Even through your anxiety, you can’t help but smile as you hear them get on so well.

Any fears you’d had about them not liking each other had quickly disappeared. Instead, they’d become good friends and liked to meet up now and then to have a talk over coffee or something. It pleased you to see your mom getting to have more friends.

Eden and Amelia had also chosen to get ready in that room, not wanting to crowd the one you were in too much. It was already full of dresses and a ridiculous amount of makeup and hair product with only four of you so you couldn’t even imagine the chaos with five of you.

In your room was Soyeon, Chungha and Dahyun alongside you. Dahyun was currently three months pregnant, having successfully been inseminated with Jungkook’s sperm. He’d agreed to their request and after a few months of getting prepared for the attempts, Dahyun had undergone the procedure. What it had been exactly, you didn’t know because you hadn’t felt it was your business to pry into something like that.

It was a privilege to even know they were trying before anyone else. Their announcement had come at your bachelorette party when Dahyun had refused alcohol, immediately leading Soyeon and you to be suspicious. You’d never seen Chungha’s beloved ever turn down a drink so it had been a clear sign of something at least.

Needless to say, your party had happily become a celebration of their impending baby. Thankfully, you weren’t one of those people who got overly annoyed at others announcing things at events. Or at least, not big events. Your bachelorette party had been a perfect time to find out, whereas you might not have been so amenable if they’d told everyone today instead.

That was normal though, right? Today was your day. Yours and Hoseok’s. People who felt the need to co-opt special days like that were a special type of self-absorbed in your opinion.

Given it was so early into her pregnancy, Dahyun isn't showing that much. Which meant her bridesmaid dress hadn’t needed to be altered too much. None of them has gotten into their dresses just yet, instead currently in the process of getting their face and hair done. Chungha’s hair has already been done, elegantly styled into a beautiful updo with a few tendrils curled around her face.

The makeup for the girls was a smokey eye with subtle blush and contour, alongside a neutral lip. It wasn’t anything flashy, but you’d loved the concept of it all. Particularly with the small and delicate crystals that dotted along their waterline, adding a little sparkle to match the tiny crystals on their deep violet dresses.

As a present to each of them, you’d bought them a gift set from Pandora. In each one was a pair of dainty stud earrings with a heart design alongside a matching heart-shaped pendant necklace. All the hearts were encrusted with brilliant-cut stones, making the perfect gift that could be used again in the future for casual use.

They’d all been in awe of it and surprised at being given presents as well. You hadn’t even known it was a thing until you’d looked up wedding preparation online, discovering that you should also buy something for Hoseok. Which had led to you buying him the fancy watch he’d been drooling over for months now. It had been eye-watering expensive, but it had been worth it for his excited text this morning.

Along with the watch, you’d also written him a letter. It was meant to be light-hearted and fun, but you’d ended up writing way too much as you’d poured out your love to him alongside everything you felt for him. To your eternal embarrassment, you’d ended up crying while writing it as you’d told him everything you’d never been able to vocalise, including writing possibly a million times that you love him.

He’d been instructed to not read that until just before the ceremony.

His present to you was a gaming table, which might not seem to be very sentimental to anyone else but you’d been ecstatic over it. For years now, you’d been saying that you wanted to buy a proper table that was designed for board games and that could then be used as a normal table when converted. They were super expensive so you’d resigned yourself to never getting one, but he’d printed out the receipt of what he’d ordered and put it into an envelope for you to open tonight.

Neither of you had ever been a traditional couple, and that certainly wasn’t about to change with marriage.

“Hey, you okay?” Amelia asks, interrupting your intense thought process as she sits down next to you. As usual, her aura is warm and reassuring as she reaches over to gently squeeze at your hand. You don’t spend a huge amount of time around her, but you knew both Eden and her enough to want them in your bridal party.

“Yes? No? Maybe? I don’t know. I’m just…” Trailing off, you struggle to find the right words and instead gesture towards the air. It makes no sense but you can’t quite figure out what you’re trying to say. Mainly because you can’t figure out what your mind is thinking.

“It’s okay to be worried, don’t feel like you shouldn’t be. If you’re anxious or nervous then that’s okay as well. Don’t let anyone tell you how you should be feeling, just feel what you are. Trust Hoseok, trust yourself and all your family and friends. We’re all here for you and we want you to have the best day possible. Tell us if anything is wrong, okay? I have no doubt that Chungha and Soyeon would strong-arm everyone into whatever was necessary to make you feel comfortable.” She says, smirking as she nods over to the two women who are chattering away in their respective chairs.

“I know, I know. I’m trying. It’s just...god, everyone is going to be staring at me and I hate being the centre of attention,” Looking down at your hands, you chew at your lips. “What if I mess up the vows? Or I freeze or drop the ring?”

“Hey, it’s normal to feel that. I doubt there’s anyone who’s gotten married who wasn’t at least a little bit anxious about messing something up. Yes, everyone is here to watch you, but they’re for Hoseok too. I’m sure he’s just as worried that he might make a mistake, and if you do then, so what? It’s not going to ruin anything, it just means your human. If anything, people will probably find it endearing. The only person you should concern yourself with is Hoseok, and I doubt there’s anything you could do today to ruin the day for him. Unless you don’t go.” Amelia laughs when you give a shocked gasp, jaw-dropping open and eyes wide.

“I would never do that! But what if he decides he doesn’t want to get married anymore?” Now the worry that had wiggled itself deep inside your mind comes to the fore and you find yourself almost whispering the words. It feels like a betrayal to Hoseok for even thinking he’d do that, but you can’t help the fear.

You must not have been quite enough though as Chungha speaks up, facing you in her chair with a stern expression on her face as she wags her finger. “Lady, do not think that. I don’t want that thought to even enter your head. As if Jung Hoseok is ever going to back out now. I think that man would’ve eloped with you if you’d asked instead. He’s going to be standing at the end of that aisle, probably bawling like a baby.”

“Maybe not that far.” This is from Eden, who’s laid out on the bed in the centre of the room, playing Zelda on her Switch. She’d had her makeup done earlier and is now waiting for the hairdresser to be free while Amelia is waiting for her makeup. All of you had decided that you’d be last to get ready to make sure that everything looked as fresh as possible.

“Want to bet? That man is gonna be sobbing.” This starts up a whole ten-minute discussion about whether or not Hoseok was going to cry at seeing you. Namjoon hadn’t cried but Jimin had during their weddings, surprising no one. But Namjoon had cried at the birth of his daughter.

You weren’t sure, to be honest. Hoseok didn’t cry all that often and you could probably count on one hand how many times you’d seen it over four years. On top of that, you weren’t entirely sure that you wanted to see him crying. It made your chest hurt when he did and you always ended up crying too.

Something about seeing strong and proud men cry was just heartbreaking to you.

For a while, you just sit back and let the conversation wash over you as they all debate and borderline argue, intensely amongst themselves. They’d all switched around now and they’ll soon start getting into their bridesmaid’s dresses, which meant you’d be finally getting ready.

Your nails had been done the night before with a beautiful design in the same colour scheme as the wedding. They looked so pretty and elegant, which was a surprise to you every time you looked at them as you never really bothered doing your nails. While you liked to do fancy makeup looks now and then to post onto social media, nails were not something you were interested in.

Maybe you should reassess that thought.

“Anyway, what we’re all trying, and failing, to say is that Hoseok loves you and if he doesn’t cry then he’s crying inside at how beautiful you are.” Soyeon states firmly, sitting next to you and admiring your nails as well. All the bridesmaids had the same style to keep the theme going and she wiggled her fingers with a bright smile.

“I’m not even ready yet, you don’t know if I’ll be beautiful.”

There’s dead silence in the room after the comment, with even the hairdresser and makeup artist turning to stare at you. Between the six other women in the room, you’re pretty sure that they’ve got every emotion from shock to annoyance to incredulity covered. Feeling yourself get warm at their attention, you look down to your lap in embarrassment.

Obviously, the wrong thing to say.

“Okay, we’re going to ignore that you just said that. You don’t need to be dolled up and in a wedding dress to be beautiful, it’s just going to enhance what you already have. And I don’t want any arguments on that.” Poking your side lightly, you playfully wince at Soyeon as she scolds you. Everyone else is nodding along solemnly before they carry on with whatever they’d been doing.

“Seriously though, I overheard your conversation with Amelia. She’s right. Embrace your feelings but don’t let them overwhelm you. Standing in front of a crowd is nerve-wracking for anyone, but you’ve got the love of your life standing there with you. Just focus on Hoseok, he’ll get you through it. He always has, right?” Soyeon said.

Giving her a half-smile, you nod and do a remarkably good job of looking like a scolded child or something. You know it’s just because she loves you that she doesn’t want you to berate yourself, along with the fact that she knows what you’re like. If someone doesn’t verbally acknowledge your problems then you’ll just obsess over them.

Your phone screen lights up in your lap before it begins to vibrate suddenly, Hoseok’s name visible on the screen. Frowning down at it, you wonder why he’s calling before a multitude of emotions and thoughts runs through your mind.

“Go take it in the bathroom.” Pulling you up, Soyeon practically pushes you into the bathroom before giving you a smile and a thumbs-up as she closes the door.

Seeing the other door is also open, you peek out and let everyone in that room know that you’d be using the bathroom for a few minutes and to not come in. Once you get the acknowledgement, you close and lock it as well before pushing up to sit on the counter.

“Hobi! Why are you calling?” Leaning back against the mirror, you frown deeply as you question him. The first response is just his familiar deep chuckle, the sound already helping to soothe some of your frayed nerves.

“Amelia texted Joon, who told me. I don’t want you to stress yourself out! Not today, today’s meant to be a happy day. No stress. Or anxiety.” Snorting, you roll your eyes as you trace an invisible design onto your thigh.

“Sure, like that’s gonna happen. You know me. And why are you calling? We’re not meant to see each other until the wedding, it’s bad luck!” There’s a brief pause and you can practically hear him rolling his eyes, the deep sigh he lets out telling you all you need to know.

“Meeps, I’m pretty sure that only counts for physically seeing each other. I can’t see you right now. I don’t recall anything about not being allowed to hear you, or talk to you. Besides, we make our luck.” He sounds so nonchalant and now it’s your turn to sigh at him.

“You’re going to get us hit by lightning or something.”

“Impossible, the weather schedule for today is meant to be sunny with a little bit of cloud later on. Nice warm temperatures that aren’t too hot but also not too cold. Perfect. No lightning.” His immediate rebuttal has you laughing, unable to stay mad at him for too long. Not when he’s trying so hard to take your mind off things.

“Seriously though, are you okay? What are you worried about? Talk to me.” Hoseok asks, his voice calm and steady as he stops joking around. There’s a brief moment of resistance, the thought that you don’t want to bother him with your silly thoughts or annoying emotions before you remember that you can trust him. No matter how ridiculous it sounds in your head, Hoseok will listen and he won’t make fun of you.

“I’m just...scared. Of all the people. Like, they’re going to be watching me or staring. What if I look fat or ugly? Or I fuck up saying the vows? Or I drop the ring or my dress splits or something? Or if I trip down the aisle?! Or if you decide you don’t want to marry me anymore?” As you begin to reel off the questions that have been plaguing your mind, you can feel your chest getting a little tighter and your breathing shallower.

With the practised ease of someone who’s dealt with your panic attacks over the years, Hoseok makes calming and reassuring noises over the phone until you’re silent. Just listening to him, you take in the comforting words as he lets you know that you’re okay and everything is fine. Finally, once he thinks you’re calm enough, he carries on.

“Meeps, that’s fine. Don’t be upset that you’re having those thoughts. I’ve had every one of those thoughts today as well. I mean...not the dress one. Substitute that for pants splitting or something, which is even more embarrassing because my underwear is not black today. But the point I’m trying to make here is that it’s normal to have those thoughts today. I’d probably be more worried if you weren’t having them.” He pauses to laugh before you hear shuffling noises.

There’s no doubt he’s probably not even getting into his tuxedo just yet and you curse the fact that men take far less time to get ready than women. He’ll probably only start like...an hour before the ceremony begins or something.

“But all I’ll say is, it doesn’t matter if anything goes wrong because we’ll fix it. You and me, just like always. You won’t look fat or ugly because you’re neither fat nor ugly anyway, instead, you’ll be the most beautiful woman here. Which you always are to me but don’t let my mom hear me tell you that. And I’m going to be standing at the end of the aisle, I promise you that. I’m the one who proposed to you and I will be there, waiting for you. That’s one thing I can assure you of completely.” Hoseok says this firmly, his voice perhaps more serious than you’ve ever heard it before.

You can practically feel his determination to make you understand that he’s going to be there. That he’s going to marry you today, no matter what happens. It makes your heart swell with love and emotion, causing you to press your hand against your mouth.

Hoseok takes your silence as a positive, choosing to let it carry on for a little longer before speaking once more.

“I love you, Meeps. And by the end of today, you’re going to be my wife. We’re going to have a great day with a beautiful ceremony and a fun reception before probably going to bed drunk. Or at least, I’m going to be drunk. Not entirely sure if I’ll be able to take you to Poundtown tonight-”

“Don’t ever say that again.”

“But if not tonight then definitely tomorrow. Unless you don’t want me to drink, in which case probably tonight if you’re up for it.” Shaking your head, you can’t help but smile at his stupid comments. He always knew how to cheer you up, even if it was with the most ridiculous thing you’d heard today.

“You can drink, I’m not going to make you sober throughout the entire reception. I want you to have fun with everyone, so if you end up drunk then that’s fine. Just don’t go overboard.”

“Choosing to ignore my Poundtown comments, I see.”

“Jung Hoseok, I am going to hang up now. I will see you later, okay?”

“Okay. Love you.” Feeling a little shy, you murmur your next words into the phone.

“Love you too.”

The ceremony is officially about to start and you stare at the open door, knowing that outside all your guests are waiting. Not only that, but Hoseok is at the end of the aisle. You’d been reassured by everyone there who had peeked out to make sure, quelling your fears and worries.

All the groomsmen had come inside upon finding out you were here, lining themselves up alongside their specified bridesmaid partners and chatting away happily. They all looked incredibly handsome in their suits, the colours matching the bridesmaids perfectly and you felt a little pride at having thought of a good colour scheme.

Your mom is fussing around you, making sure that your dress looks perfect and that your bouquet hasn’t fallen apart or anything. Sighing, you gently push her hands away as she tries once more to move your necklace.

All of them had given you something as part of the tradition for the bride. Dahyun had lent you a beautiful Cartier bracelet, glowing with diamonds, as part of the ‘something borrowed’ while Chungha had bought you diamond earrings for the ‘something new’. Your mom had given you the bracelet she’d worn for her wedding, now occupying your other wrist and Hoseok’s mom had provided the necklace adorning your neck.

It was a beautiful silver necklace with a dainty leaf design, leading to the main piece in the centre which was dotted with tiny diamonds. Each leaf spreading out had either amethyst or an aquamarine gem in alternating order. She’d ordered it specially made for your wedding, matching your engagement ring with the gems and fulfilling the ‘something blue’.

You’d been amazed at everything they’d given you, understanding now why they’d all told you now to buy any jewellery for the day. They’d all decided to make sure you had everything you needed anyway.

But you knew that your mom’s need to keep straightening out your dress or brushing away unseen dust was just to keep herself preoccupied. She’d already cried once when you’d come out in your wedding dress, makeup and hair all done. That had earned her an exasperated sigh from the makeup artist.

“Mom, mom, come on,” You coo to her, smiling before taking her hands and squeezing. “You gotta go out there, go get your place.”

She hesitates for a moment, unwilling to leave you before nodding. After a few words of reassurance from her to you, telling you that you’re going to do well and it’s all going to go fine, she turns and hugs your dad tightly before kissing him. You’d feel embarrassed at the sight of it, never quite being comfortable with your parents' displays of affection, but it just causes you to laugh softly.

Once she’s out the door, you hear the music begin from outside, the notes flowing through the door faintly. Everyone inside quietens and you can almost feel the excitement ramp up. It just makes you feel more nervous though, particularly when they start to head out in their pairs slowly.

“Are you ready?” Your dad asks, his eyes already going glassy with tears as his lip wobbles slightly. Giving him a concerned look, you immediately reach up to wipe the tears as they start to fall, feeling your heartbreak at the sight of your dad crying. He never cried.

“Dad! Don’t cry, oh my god. I’m sorry.” Cleaning up his face quickly, you’re stopped by the gentle way he grasps your wrists. For a moment, you think that he’s going to push you away but instead, he pulls you closer and carefully hugs you.

It’s a little awkward as you’re trying not to ruin the carefully done hair and makeup, but you can’t deny your dad a hug. Especially when you’d never really been much of a hugger growing up. You would be cruel to deny him one, especially on your wedding day. Your parents were feeling emotional that their little girl was getting married today.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s just your old dad getting sappy. You look so beautiful. Hoseok is so lucky, you better remind him of that every day.” He’s pulled back now, giving you the softest smile that is still a little watery. His hands move to your shoulders and he stands back to examine you fully, his eyes taking in everything.

Before you can respond to him, Yoongi is disappearing out of the door and heading towards the aisle. He’s alone, as you’d planned, but in one hand is the bouquet that Hoseok’s sister would’ve held had she still been alive. It had been his suggestion to hold it, symbolising the family member that Hoseok didn’t have anymore and you’d been more than willing to agree.

You wondered what Hoseok thought when he saw it as neither of you had told him that Yoongi would be holding it. Hopefully, he was happy with it, along with his parents.

Turning back to you, your dad squeezes your shoulders reassuringly before smiling at you. Ironically, all it does is make you more nervous as you realise that now you’re the one who’s going to have to walk down that aisle next.

“Come on, it’s time to make your fiancé cry.” His words in a teasing tone, your dad turns to face the door before offering you his arm. Standing there, you stare at him before looking at the door with trepidation. Nerves roil in your stomach as you hear the faint sound of music playing, knowing that everyone out there is waiting for you.

Which in turn means everyone will be staring at you.

Those nerves quickly turn to anxiety and your breath comes faster, chest feeling a little constricted by the tight bodice of the dress. Without even realising it, your hands start to shake and the bouquet in them shudders visibly.

Quickly, your dad takes the bouquet from you to make sure that you don’t accidentally deflower them or crush the stems. The last thing you needed was to ruin your perfect bouquet only minutes before you were supposed to walk down the aisle.

It frees up your hands and you find yourself flapping them as you stress, trying to shake out the negative emotions as you pant. Your dad’s eyes widen, obviously panicking himself at your obvious distress. He’s never had to deal with you struggling like this before and he doesn’t know what to do but his paternal instincts kick in quickly.

“Hey, come on, sweetheart. Breathe, breathe. Take a big breath in, come on, that’s it. Not let it out slowly. And again, that’s right.” Talking to you in his comforting voice, tone level and low, you follow his instructions and start to feel a little calmer as you force yourself to calm your breathing. It’s hard, and you still feel the anxiety but it feels a little more manageable now.

Closing your eyes, you run through all the tips your therapist had given you for how to cope with anxiety attacks. What worked for you was to sing in your head, the lyrics, whatever song you were loving lately. It probably takes longer than you’d have liked but finally you feel like you can cope with your emotions enough to carry on.

When you open your eyes again, your dad is giving you an expectant, yet worried, look. Shaking your hands once more, you reach out and take the bouquet from him before taking a deep breath. Linking your arm through his, you straighten your shoulders and lift your chin before smiling at him.

“Okay, okay. Let’s go.”

Walking down the aisle is surprisingly less stressful than you’d imagined. The famous wedding song plays through the air as you walk slowly and the whole atmosphere feels almost like a fairytale. The soft lights twinkle even in the daylight while the gentle, warm breeze makes the ribbons on the chairs flutter delicately.

Along the floor, the white and purple rose petals that Namjoon’s daughter had spread in her role as flower girl were strewn haphazardly. A few of them caught the breeze and rolled delicately to a new place, making it seem like the floor was consistently changing. You liked it, smiling at the sight of how beautiful everything looked.

Everyone was staring at you, as you’d expected, but surprisingly it wasn’t as intimidating as you’d thought. You didn’t exactly enjoy it but it wasn’t terrible. Probably because you were more focused on initially admiring how perfect everything looked. How months and months of thought and money had finally accumulated into the perfect wedding.

But mostly, you weren’t as bothered by the staring because you were focused on the end of the aisle. There was no real altar here, given that it was being held at a hotel and everything, but the metal garden arch at the end had been decorated in delicate flowers, ribbons and lights to make an even better end.

And beneath it stood Hoseok.

If you’d ever thought Hoseok looked handsome before then it paled in comparison to him today. His black tuxedo made him look tall and slim, every part of him looking perfectly put together and elegant. The deep purple waistcoat beneath his jacket contrasted with the white of his shirt perfectly; the colour combination making his skin almost glow with health and happiness.

There was only the slightest hint of tattoos at the edge of his collar, leaving to the imagination the artwork he had permanently on his body beneath his clothes but you didn’t need to imagine. You’d seen them all, traced them delicately into your memory over the years until you could point out where they were without even seeing them.

Finally reaching him, you paused to look at your dad and gave him a bright smile of gratitude before giving him a second hug. This one was a little tighter than before and when you let go of him, you saw that he was crying once more. He didn’t give your hand to Hoseok, instead just gave him a stern look while trying to surreptitiously wipe away his tears.

“You look after her, Jung Hoseok. You make sure she’s the happiest woman.” There’s iron in his voice, telling Hoseok that it wasn’t a question but more a command. But there’s also love and affection in it, something Hoseok can tell as well by the way he nods his head.

Handing your bouquet to Chungha, you take Hoseok’s proffered hand. Up close, you can take in the details of his face better and you take a moment to simply admire him and imprint him into your memory.

The sides of his head had been shaven, the undercut short and seen with the style he’d chosen to wear today. His hair had been styled back, pushed away from his forehead. It was a look that had made you weak in the knees many times over the years and you’d practically begged him to have it for the wedding, knowing that he’d blow everyone’s mind with how handsome he looked.

Hoseok had a face that looked like it had been hand-carved by the gods from the finest marble anyway and this hairstyle showed off all the highlights of his face. The high cheekbones that made his smiles so animated, his cutting jawline, the clean slope of his nose, the heart-shaped smile that lit his entire face and the dimples that made him seem so human.

His lip ring was still in, the silver shining in the sunlight. He’d been unsure whether to wear it but you’d told him to embrace himself and keep it. You’d fallen in love with him as he was, and you wanted him to show himself how you saw him. Which included his piercings and tattoos.

Your heart clenched though when you looked into his eyes finally. Hoseok’s eyes were one of your favourite things about him. The crescents they turned into when he smiled brightly, pushed into the shape by his cheeks and the way his eyes could practically dance with delight when he was happy.

Today though, those beautiful and expressive eyes were watery with tears. The wet streak on his cheek told you that he’d already had some of them fall and you frowned at the sight of them. Everyone had been right; Hoseok had cried upon seeing you down the aisle.

“Baby.” You whisper, unsure if you’re meant to talk to him. Deciding you don’t care, you reach up to wipe away the tears and smile when he kisses the palm of your hand before nuzzling into it, uncaring of everyone else.

“Meeps, you look perfect. I read your letter, I love you too.” Before you can stop him, he’s leaning forward and pressing a quick kiss to your lips. There’s a murmur in the crowd, alongside some laughter and he looks over at everyone with a raised brow.

No one says anything though and he gets a satisfied look, ignoring your shy expression as you turn away from everyone.

“You’re not supposed to do that.” Keeping your voice low, you give a hesitant smile to the official who will be taking you both through your ceremony. Hoseok lets out a snort of laughter as he squeezes your hand tight, letting his thumb run along the back of your hand lovingly.

“I don’t care. It’s our wedding, I’ll do what I want.” And before you can stop him, he turns you and gives you another kiss, this one lingering a little longer. Eyes widening, you can’t help but giggle as you hear yet more laughter.

You should be annoyed at him, but you know he’s a force of nature. Plus, you don’t care. It feels nice to know he can’t help himself.

“Okay, let’s get married, Meeps.” He grins at you before facing the officiant once more. Staring at him a moment longer, you smile at him and nod.

“Let’s get married.”

Hobi Hobi,

We’re getting married today! Are you excited? I hope you’re reading this when I told you to, if not then you’re cheating >:[ it feels weird to write a letter. I don’t even know if I’ve ever done this before, so I’m sorry if it sounds really cheesy and lame. What do people write in these normally? I’m just going to write what comes to mind so if it ends up sappy then you’re not allowed to tease me later about it.

Anyway, I want you to know that I’m sorry that I suck so much at telling you how I feel and my emotions. I wish I could be one of those people who’s telling you every moment how handsome you are and how much I love you but I can’t. I’m sorry :( I’m trying, I swear! Even if I don’t get to tell you as often as you deserve, I hope you know that I love you more than anything in the world.

Don’t ever forget that, okay? Even when we’re arguing over something silly or we go to bed mad at each other, don’t forget that. I know we’re pretty good at talking things out but there’s always that chance that we could have a big blowout. So I want you to remember that I love you.

I’m still not entirely sure what I did to deserve you, but I don’t regret sending you that message. If anything, I think I should send the Flower team a big bunch of flowers or something for creating the algorithm that brought you up as a match. Imagine if it hadn’t and I’d just deleted the app, we’d have never met and I’d still be lonely and sad.

But we did meet, and I took a chance on you by sending you that embarrassing message. And then you took a chance by actually meeting up with me and going on that date. I still remember it, and I don’t know if I ever told you but I still have the ticket for the escape room. I know you still have yours in your wallet :) Thank you for giving me your time, even if I wasn’t your type. I hope I’m your type now.

I’m not sure that I will ever be able to tell you how important you are to me. Not only myself but my life. You’ve helped me to embrace myself and learn to love myself over the years through kindness. I know my limits in terms of my mental health now and you’ve helped to support me with the medication and the therapist. Neither of those were things I’d been comfortable with doing before your encouragement. But you also gave me a safe space to break down in; somewhere that I knew I could be at my most vulnerable mentally without having to risk being hurt even more.

You held me when I cried, you comforted me when I panicked and you calmed my anxiety over the years. I can never thank you enough for helping me to understand that these aren’t deficiencies and I’m not broken. I just need a little help to get through things sometimes. At the same time, I hope that I’ve become that safe space for you as well. I know that you’re not as emotional as I am, but I feel that you’ve opened up to me about things that hurt you. I’ll keep your secrets safe and I’ll always be here for you!

I hope you’re happy with your life now. With me, and our home and our furbabies. I hope you stay happy, and if you don’t then talk to me. Please. I don’t want us to ever realise that we’re making each other unhappy and I don’t want to ever be the reason for negativity. I want to spend the rest of my life with you in our little home, growing old together as we play board games and dote on our animals while you increase your tattoo collection even more. I know that people like to say that they can’t imagine their lives with their significant other, but I really do feel like that.

My life without you would be hollow and monochrome, as you bring colour to my world and fill it with joy and happiness. I’ve never laughed as much as I have these last few years with you and I know we’ll keep that in our relationship if we try hard.

I don’t really know where this letter is going and I’m babbling now. But I guess the main thing is just that I can’t wait to marry you. It may not be very feminist of me but I can’t wait to take your name and be your wife. I can’t wait to call you my husband. I’m going to be terrified in the ceremony and so nervous but I’ll be happy too, I promise! I still can’t believe that you picked me, out of all the women you’ve seen, to be your girlfriend and then decided that you wanted to marry me.

Jung Hoseok, I solemnly swear to treasure you for the rest of your life and make sure you know how much I love you. I might not be able to tell you all that much, but I’ll show you. I’ll make you smile and laugh, I’ll buy you things that make me think of you, I’ll hug you tight and cuddle you until you’re complaining.

So in case it wasn’t obvious enough, I love you. I just want you to know because I know I suck at telling you, like I said. I’m also bad at writing letters but what’s new? I’ll finish this off quickly so you’re not spending too long reading this. Don’t want to make you late for our wedding after all.

I love you. I love you, Jung Hoseok. I love you, Hobi. I love you, I love you, I love you.

Lots and lots and lots of love, your soon to be wife <333333

427 notes · View notes

joheun-saram · 4 years

Text

To Make A Power Couple (knj) | 05

Chapter 5: 30 under 30

previous | masterlist | next

Summary- After a bout of long distance our couple reunites for a weekend where they are both invited to the Forbes 30 under 30 celebration.

word count- 13k 😅

pairing- idol!namjoon x ceo!reader

rating- R

genre- series, slow burn, fluff, smut, strangers2lovers, angst (😱)

warnings- alcohol consumption, softdom!Joon, oral sex (f. receiving), orgasm denial, explicit sex, hints towards depressive mindset, overworking

a.n- new chapter? NEW CHAPTER! AND THERE’S ANGST?! I would like to point out that the Namjoon’s struggles in this chapter are in no way meant to reflect the real Namjoon’s thoughts. This is a fictional character. I use writing as an outlet to work through my own issues so the only headspace they accurately reflect is my own at times. If you relate, or need someone to talk to you, my messages are open - I’m here for you!

Thank you so much for the love you all have given this series so far! I’m loving writing this! Also, I’m still simping for this couple and writing the last two scenes was heartbreaking.

s/o to @moccahobi for beta reading! ily!

Feedback much appreciated! 💕

taglist - @beach-bitch-bitch-beach, @sscheherazadee, @rjsmochii, @jinjccns, @joyful-jimin @sideblogger @agustdpeach @diamonddia-mond

“So how much do I have to bribe Sejin to let us be in the same room for the Forbes thing?” You settled in bed, wearing one of your boyfriend’s t-shirts, as you Facetimed him a few countries away, his scent making you feel closer to him. To say his comeback had him busy was an understatement. Since the night you two had agreed on labeling your relationship, you only had a few weeks together to cuddle, visit your favorite places, and argue philosophies of the books you were reading, before being thrown into a long-distance relationship. First, your investor meetings had you traveling from San Francisco to Seoul every few weeks and then he set out on the Asian leg of his promotions and mini-tour. The days that you were in the same city were spent staying in bed and ordering take-out (mostly jjajangmyeon to satisfy Namjoon’s cravings), alternating between his apartment and yours.

“Literally nothing? Obviously we’re in the same room! He’s not gonna stop me from staying with my girlfriend who I haven’t seen in like two months.” He looked tired, his brows creased as he massaged his shoulder. Your heart panged wishing you could be there to massage it for him.

“Oh. But what if we get caught?” This was not a new concern. Since day one, you had to ensure that all your dates were private, pretending you both were single at events you were obligated to attend. He had an image to portray and although it sometimes weighed on you that you always had a group of friends with you whenever you went out in public and that you couldn’t hold hands during your outings, you respected him too much to tarnish his career.

“By who? The room service guy?” He rolled his eyes as he now started to punch his shoulders.

“Yes, or fans who hack the security system. I remember some One Direction fans doing that.” You pretended as if some of those fans were not your old university friends. You don’t talk to them anymore, but you have to admit it was hilarious seeing a group of coders hunched over their computers to get access to grainy pictures of Harry Styles walking in the hallways.

“You are so paranoid. We’ll be fine, baby. Trust me.” He dismissed you with a huff as he finally let go of his shoulders and moved on to removing his makeup.

“Also, I didn’t know you told your company.” You both had decided to wait to tell BigHit about your relationship until you were done with this long-distance leg, opting to go in together to announce it. Neither of you wanted to go public so you assumed the meeting was going to be quick and painless.

“I told people who needed to know. Hyung included.” He shrugged.

“Aww, I was looking forward to sneaking around some more!” You joked as he carried his phone to the bathroom to wash his face.

“You’re annoying.” He whined as he put on copious amounts of skincare before dropping on his hotel bed like a brick. Looking at his bare face, his dark circles and tired eyes were much more evident. Tonight’s show must have been really hard on him.

“Aw, do you miss me, baby?” You cooed, hoping to make him laugh. You wanted to hug him, cuddle with him as the little spoon as you usually did when he had a hard day, but all you could do at the moment was make jokes and hope that was enough. Shit, you missed him.

“I always miss you. Phone sex sucks.” He sighed, making himself comfortable among the pillows.

“I knew it! You only like me for the sex.” Just give me one laugh Namjoon, come on. A chuckle, anything!

“Yes and your sexy brain, pretty girl.” He laughed lightly as he stared at you through the screen, the longing in his eyes mirroring yours.

“Hey! That’s my line!” You giggled, relieved to see the crease between his brows finally disappear.

“Fuck! Three more days!” He said excitedly, shaking the phone in his hand making him look more like a crazed anime character with his new pink hair and lopsided glasses than your boyfriend.

“Three more days!” you squealed.

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

Your body ached from the thirteen-hour flight as you walked through the lobby of the Metropolitan Detroit hotel with Siwon. Grateful for how organized Namjoon’s company was, you seamlessly checked in and made your way to your suite, dropping off your stuff before meeting Siwon at his to go over the weekend itinerary. Even though you knew he was still in the air since the boys and his flight wasn’t due to land for another five hours, you texted him your safe arrival.

Over the past four months since the gala, Jiyoung’s hard work had started to pay off. You were no longer an unknown entity controlling a company; you were now an “influencer entrepreneur”. Your personal social media, now closely tied to the company, showcasing not only usual photos of you at museums and galleries (courtesy of Namjoon’s camera) but photos of you in boardrooms and speaking at events (courtesy of Siwon’s camera). You had significantly surpassed your corporate accounts in followers over a month ago, with a steady stream coming in after your interview in a fashion magazine of all things (apparently your “street style” was deemed a breath of fresh air for businesswomen) and another stream coming in when you were invited to this year’s class of Forbes 30 under 30.

Although you usually didn’t care for flashy awards such as this, Jiyoung had worked overtime on your nomination and the fact that you were one of the ten people invited from Korea made you pretty happy. The coverage and clout that came with your invite had made you a role model for young female entrepreneurs and that was something you were actually proud of. When you started out there were barely any female mentors and you wanted to change that, give back to other young women running their own ventures. You were excited to meet women around your age who you could relate to this weekend. This was one of the first years that there were this many women invited, making up almost 40%, and your extroverted self was buzzing. Of course, an added bonus was that out of the ten winners from Korea, one was your boyfriend and six were his bandmates, who were slowly but surely becoming your close friends as well. You had been looking forward to this weekend since it was announced a month ago.

Arriving at Siwon’s room you ordered some lunch and planned out the weekend. Tonight was a free night where you could explore the city and the pre-festival activities, although to be honest after almost two months apart, the only thing you’d be exploring tonight was your boyfriend. Tomorrow would be a brunch meet for all the winners followed by a gala in the evening filled with dancing, dinner, and drinks. Then the next day was the festival, which you were still undecided about wanting to attend or not.

“Honestly, it’s up to you. It seems pretty useless to attend if you want to hang out with Namjoon instead.” Siwon offered as you both started on a pro-con list for reasons to attend.

“I don’t know. What if there are some big clients we could get?” Although you missed him dearly, there was no way you could forgive yourself if you let your heart cloud your judgment.

“Yes, we can definitely teach Detroit some English.” Siwon rolled his eyes. “Most of the companies here are tech companies, too small for our caliber. Take a break. This month’s been tough.”

As much as you wanted to disagree with Siwon, he wasn’t wrong. This past month has probably been the toughest month for you in terms of deadlines and stress in the past two years. With the added pressure of maintaining a public persona, your days at the office had stretched from the usual ten hours to sixteen. Most of the time you would be holed up at your desk going through proposals or stuck in meetings with your board as you planned strategies after strategies for expansion into Japan only to get shut down and asked to reassess by one or multiple of them. On top of that, your evenings were booked with conferences where you were invited to speak, given your new spotlight. Most times when you reached home you barely had the energy to change as you fell into bed, falling asleep under ten minutes, usually with Namjoon on the phone as he went through similar motions. You were stressed. Even this short trip was cutting into your time and although you had made good use of the plane’s wifi to work, there was still one proposal that you would have to finish sometime this weekend. Suddenly, the idea of not going to the festival was looking better, so you relent to Siwon as you bid him goodbye and make your way back to your room.

After a quick shower, you decided to work on the proposal before Namjoon arrived but soon as you sat on the desk typing away, the exhaustion of the day caught up with you, and with your head on the table, you drifted to a dreamless sleep.

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

Namjoon hadn’t been this excited in a long while. He could barely focus on the conversation in the car as he followed the little blue dot on his phone that was showing the way to the hotel. He had texted you as soon as he landed but you hadn’t responded and he was getting a bit antsy.

“Namjoon! Are you paying attention? Hey! I’m talking to you!” He begrudgingly looked up from his phone to see Jin pouting at him annoyed that he missed his comment. He rolled his eyes at him as he launched into a rant about him never listening to his stories. How Jin had this much energy after a twelve-hour flight was lost on him.

“Let him be. He’s just excited to see Y/N.” Yoongi spoke, not even bothering to open his eyes. Although Namjoon was glad that Yoongi had his back, he wished he hadn’t said anything because suddenly everyone forgot about their long flight and started cooing. He felt himself get annoyed as their teasing increased but he couldn’t help the goofy grin that made its way to his face. He couldn’t be mad at them, they all had people at home they were missing, and he was lucky that unlike them he could get a break from missing you and actually hold you in his arms. He wouldn’t tell you but initially, his company had decided to send in their regrets for this event but he may or may not have convinced them to move the shoot for their new music video that was taking place in Los Angeles to next week so they could be here this weekend. If he had to just see you through his screen for another month he was going to go crazy. If it was up to him he would not leave your side at all the next three days.

Namjoon had to restrain himself from sprinting to his room as soon as he was handed the key card. He barely noticed a few of his members following him as he opened the door to spy you hunched over the desk in the corner of the large room, your laptop displaying multiple pictures of your friends and the both of you together. He figured you were asleep but he couldn’t wait to gently wake you up as he usually did, instead opting for screaming a loud “baby” and running to hug your sleeping form.

What he didn’t expect was for you to wake up so startled that you scream and elbow him in the ribs making him stumble backward till his butt met the floor, much to the entertainment of Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook who were cackling in the background.

“Oh my god! Joon?” He could see your face go from confusion to recognition and then into one of the most beautiful smiles he had seen as your puffy eyes go wide. “Joonie!”

You launched yourself from your chair into his arms as you collapsed on top of him in something between a hug and a cuddle as both of you fell to the floor erupting in giggles. Your scent enveloped him and he could feel himself getting delirious. He didn’t know whether it was the long flight or the long-distance but his heart felt like it was going to explode in his chest. He hadn’t been this happy in a long while.

“I missed you!” He exclaimed as he peppered aggressive pecks on top of your head, his arms around your shoulders tightening, making you squirm and laugh. Above you the maknaes squealed a chorus of “cute!”, cooing loudly.

“I missed you more!” You countered, grinning into his chest, before attempting to get up only to be pulled in tighter after Namjoon’s whine. “Babe, we have the whole weekend!”

“Hey! We missed her too! I want a hug!” Jimin mock yelled at Namjoon, who was now sitting up with you on his lap, still not letting you go.

“No. Get your own Y/N.” He pouts, placing a kiss to your shoulder as you giggle. You hadn’t seen this cute clingy side before and you were sure you had heart eyes. Ignoring his whining you managed to wriggle yourself out of his grip and stood up, greeting the boys. You barely talked for five minutes before Namjoon got impatient again and suggested “as their leader” they go rest after the long flight. You all made plans to meet up for dinner and drinks later that night to properly catch up.

You waved bye to the boys as Namjoon pushed them out the door, ignoring their groans. As soon as the door was closed, he grabbed you by the waist, his lips crashing into yours. The kiss was hungry, all tongues, teeth, and desperation. Your arms went around his neck, fingers pulling at his hair as his hands moved lower, groping your ass in an attempt to pull you even closer, grinding against you and making you moan into the kiss. Soon Namjoon was pinning you against the wall, his hands roaming all over your body as yours do on his.

“Missed my pretty girl,” Namjoon says after a few minutes, beaming and panting, his forehead against yours, his hand caressing your sides. Hearing your favorite nickname makes you melt. Even though his heart is beating a mile a minute, heat encasing his body, he hasn’t felt this relaxed in months. Just being in your presence puts him at ease.

“I really missed you.” You reach up to kiss him again, slower this time allowing yourself to relish him after being deprived for so long. He returns the kiss just as tenderly, making your heart melt in your chest as he cups your face, thumbs running over your cheeks. Even though things had started heated, this is what you truly missed, just being in each other's presence.

When you break the kiss, he lifts you up bridal style as you squeal, your arms automatically going around his neck. He grins at you, making you feel the same butterflies you had when you first met him as you poke his dimples, and he carries you to the bed, gently placing you among the pillows before kissing you again.

He was on top of you as you kissed, and you had almost forgotten what it felt to have him there with you as your tongues wrestled, his weight cushioning you to the mattress. Your hands reached the hem of his shirt, pulling it upwards till he sat on his knees to remove it, looking at you with his signature smirk as you ran your hands up his body, feeling the contours of his muscles, enjoying the way his chest flexed under them. That is until his smirk turned into one of the biggest yawns you had ever witnessed.

“Am I boring you, Joonie?” You saw his face flush as he looked at you sheepishly before leaning back over you and kissing your lips before moving on to your jaw.

“I read somewhere that yawns are just your brain's way of getting more oxygen” He whispered while gently kissing your neck, making you moan, as his hands moved under your shirt, roaming over your chest. “And all my blood’s somewhere else now so it makes sense” He kissed your ear, making you giggle.

“Wow your dirty talk sure has gotten scientific.” You couldn’t hold back your laughter as you processed what he had just said, your moans turning into cackles. He nipped at your ear as he leaned up to look at you, a goofy grin on his face.

“I’m out of practice!” He shrugged and pretended to glare at you but it only lasted a few seconds before he started laughing again because this time it was you who was yawning. Somehow the earlier sexual tension fades into comfort as you both get caught into a yawn loop.

“Maybe we should just nap first” you suggest pulling him back to you as you peck his lips.

“I do feel like I do better when I’m well-rested.” He lays on his side pulling you into him, one arm under your head and one around your waist. You hum in approval as you cozy up into him. You kiss as you slowly doze off, the adrenaline of your reunion wearing off into a soft glow of contentment.

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

“Y/N! You have to call me oppa. We’re close enough! Stop calling me Mr. Seokjin!” You rolled your eyes as Jin yelled from the couch across from you. You had hung out with him quite a few times and every time he got drunk he insisted on making you call him by the term of endearment. You didn’t mind the term, in fact you called all your older male friends by it since moving to Korea, but riling up Jin till he started rapping was too funny an opportunity to pass up.

“I can just call you Jin instead if you hate Mr Seokjin?” you smirked as the room around you burst into giggles. You were sitting on the couch in Hoseok’s room, leaning into Namjoon, his arm around your shoulders as he sipped his beer, shaking his head at your antics. After you and Namjoon had become official, you had made it a goal of yours to get to know most of his friends, as he had with yours. Before being separated, you would go out for dinners with your combined friends, and hearing them say they missed you warmed your heart.

The first time you had had drinks together you had introduced them to King’s cup, one of your favorite drinking games from university, and their penchant for petty competitiveness and gross punishments made the game and you a regular occurrence whenever a few of you had free time together. In fact, Jungkook was so into it that he brought a deck of cards on tour to carry on the tradition, even though you had shown him multiple apps that could do the same. The same deck of cards was the one sprawled around the cup filled with Taehyung’s strawberry daiquiri, Siwon’s IPA, and Yoongi’s whiskey on the coffee table. No one was looking forward to pulling the next king card.

The room was a bit crowded, filled with people. Although dinner was just you and the boys catching up, everyone had decided to invite the boys’ stylists and managers, as well as Siwon, for drinks. Hoseok had lost the game of rock, paper, scissors so he was made the begrudging host.

“I’m older than you. You can’t call me just Jin!” he pouted, red cheeks puffed and arms crossed across his chest.

“Yeah by five months!” This is how this argument always went. It was pretty much scripted at this point, as evident by Taehyung who was gleefully mouthing the words before they even came out of your mouths. He’ll argue that Yoongi still called him hyung, you’d retort that’s because Jin forced him and that he was dumb for following through, Yoongi would then interrupt saying that he was still one month older than you and you’d rile up Jin more by calling Yoongi oppa the rest of the night while he would complain about you disrespecting Korean culture and you’d annoy him by telling him that he was disrespecting Canadian culture by not letting you use just his first name. You’d finally relent after seeing him stew only to pick up the same argument the next time you all drank together.

“Stop arguing and pick a card!” Hoseok whined, his sweet demeanor slowly phasing into his zombie persona with each sip of his drink. You loved hanging out with him but the man could not handle his alcohol. Namjoon kind of felt bad that Hobi was the host. He would normally offer him his bed once he inevitably passed out but Namjoon had other plans for his bed once this party was over.

Jin obliged as he picked up a card, careful not to break the circle lest he was forced to down his concoction of mini bar liquor and fruit punch. He picks up a jack, requiring him to start a game of Never Have I Ever.

“Alright, never have I ever disrespected Kim Seokjin.” He said smugly, looking straight at you egging you on to drink. You oblige by raising your glass to him before sipping your drink. To Jin’s annoyance, almost everyone else did that same thing, causing him to grumble.

“Okay that was a boring waste of a question,” Jimin states, rolling his eyes, already drunk sitting on the couch’s arm next to Namjoon. “Let’s make the couples here uncomfortable. Never have I ever had sex in public.”

Surprisingly, Namjoon, you and a stylist are the only ones that drink, making Jimin scream a loud “Kinky!” and prompting Sejin to start his lecture on being careful in the public eye since you were pretty known now and the press would have a field day. Before he can get into the full swing of his chiding, you decide to save you and Namjoon by protesting that you didn’t even hold his hand in public, let alone do anything else, and suddenly the whole atmosphere in the room changed. All eyes went from Namjoon to the stylist, with him glaring at Jimin and her awkwardly downing her drink before leaving. Confused and drunk, you don’t hesitate to ask what’s wrong in the silence that ensues, till it finally dawns on you. That’s the ex he worked with. Oh.

Namjoon could see the gears turning in your head as you put two and two together. He was going to kill Jimin and then himself. Why didn’t he think before taking a sip? He wanted tonight to end with you in his arms, not with you mad at him over something that happened two years ago. However, before he could think of how to make it up to you - maybe he could get you flowers or that whiskey you really like - you laugh, breaking the tension in the room.

“It’s okay guys, everyone has exes!” Still giggling you sip your drink while Jimin apologizes, waving him off. “Why would I get mad at this?”

That caused the room to return back to normal, people resuming the game and enjoying their drinks, but Namjoon was still confused. He knew you were a pretty rational person, but he had just told the whole room of your friends that he fucked his ex in public when you confirmed that he wouldn’t even hold your hand. Surely, he wasn’t wrong to assume that you would be at least a little peeved, but here you were laughing along at Jungkook’s stupid jokes without batting an eyelid. Before he could dwell too long on it, it was your turn to pull a card - pulling a king and effectively ending the game.

“Ewwww. I hate this. Ugh. Is this punishment for introducing you all to this game?” You scrunch your nose sniffing the liquid in the cup as the whole group chants “chug!”. Before you can put it to your lips, Namjoon grabs the cup from you.

“Allow me.” He says as he chugs the drink, almost in one shot, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and barely concealing the shiver that runs through him at the disgusting taste. Half the crowd boos as the other half coos at the chivalrous gesture. You can’t help smiling sweetly at him as he grimaces, and putting your arms around his waist pulling him in an embrace, exclaiming an overly exaggerated “My hero!”.

“Anything for my girl!” He says as he returns your hug and cups your face. “But you gotta suffer the taste with me!”

You’re not one for public displays of affection but you let him pull you into a sloppy kiss, almost forgetting your surroundings as he deepens it, his hand gripping your waist, his tongue tasting mostly of fake strawberry flavoring. Before you can get too carried away, you are interrupted by Yoongi, poking you both and wedging himself between you when you separate.

“Stop being gross! Some of us are single!” He says, making himself comfortable with an annoyed look on his face.

“Awww hyung! They are so cute! Let them be gross!” A drunk Taehyung exclaims, clapping gleefully from the floor where he’s laying in Jungkook’s lap.

“Yeah! Rapmon hyung and Y/N noona are OTP!” Jungkook says as he sips his wine, almost dribbling it down his chin.

“Nobody says OTP anymore, kid.” Yoongi drawls but refuses to move from his position. “Plus I’m the one responsible for this okay? Your OTP would be nothing without me.” He looks smug as he finishes his sentence, sipping his drink and shrugging his shoulders. Namjoon and you exchange a smirk at his remark and proceed to hug your grumpy friend tightly from both sides much to his over the top protests. Namjoon was truly grateful Yoongi had given him the courage to speak to you that night. He can’t even begin to explain the impact you have made on his life. As he looked at you tipsy and giggling, now arguing with Yoongi over which Kanye album was the best, he felt his heart blossom. You were beautiful and he was in love with you. He was sure you weren’t there yet but he promised himself that before this trip was over he was going to tell you without chickening out at the last moment like the last four times.

The party comes to an end soon after. Hoseok almost passes out after his third nursed drink and Sejin has the right mind to kick everyone out while Namjoon and Jimin help Hoseok to his bed, your heart warming as your equally drunk boyfriend forces him to brush his teeth and get into bed. Once Hoseok is firmly tucked in, Namjoon turns to you and squats.

“Get on!” He smiles looking at your direction.

“Joon we’re like two doors down. Get up!” You giggle tipsily at his offer to piggyback you.

“I wanna carry you!” He pouts against your protests, finally giving up on the piggyback after asking three times and instead draping you over his shoulder as you squeal.

“You’re gonna hurt your shoulder!” You scream but your protests go unheard, even as you take the opportunity to smack his butt from your position, a smack that he returns with a warning to behave, but you’re feeling drunk and cheeky as you continue to smack him, even going so far to rap to the beat that you’re making as he unlocks the door to your room.

He tosses you on the bed, pinning your arms above your head before you can wrap them around him and smirks at you, his eyes full of mischief.

“See, I was going to apologize for my ex but you had to go and be a brat.” He kisses you breathless as he takes both your hands in one of his while the other moves under your shirt, raising goosebumps where it caresses your stomach.

“Apologize for what?” You pant as he breaks the kiss, and he can see the confusion on your face.

“You’re not mad?” Now it’s his turn to be confused. He was sure you were mad. He would’ve been mad. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t still thinking about it since the awkward incident.

“That you had sex with your ex-girlfriend while you were dating her?” You do a dramatic gasp as you giggle at his dumbfounded expression.

“Yeah… and told our friends about it.” He looks at you sheepishly, his earlier dominant persona fading into your soft boyfriend. His hand loosens its grip on yours as he searches your eyes for any signs of hurt, his eyebrows scrunched.

“Joon you fuck too good to have been a virgin when we met.” You lift one hand to poke at the crease between his brows as you laugh and he holds your wrist, still gauging your expression.

“You’re not mad? Or… jealous?”

“Pfft. I know I fucking rock your world better than she ever did.” You try your best to do a hair flip from where you lay under him, failing miserably and making him laugh, his head coming to rest on your shoulder.

“That you do, baby. That you do.” He pecks your shoulder as he moves to your neck, kissing up to your jaw before crashing his lips onto yours. As your hands go to his hair, he brings them back over your head, breaking your kiss but not before pulling your lower lip with his teeth, coaxing a moan from you. “But you’re still getting spanked for being a brat.”

You feel his deep voice reverberate through to your core as you look at the lust in his eyes and feel yourself getting wetter. He kisses you again, his arm hooking under your waist as he sits up pulling you with him, making you gasp at the sudden movement, your arms going around his neck. Your heart’s beating a mile a minute as you make out in his lap, grinding slowly. Even after months of being together you still can’t get used to how easily his switch to this persona turns you to putty. You whimper as his hands find your ass, his fingers groping the muscle hard enough to bruise.

“Get naked.” If you were wet before, you’re dripping now as he moves you off his lap, sitting on the edge of the bed, his legs spread and leaning on his elbows. You decide to make a show of it, jumping off the bed and slowly peeling off the layers. You smile over your shoulder as you rid yourself of your bra, watching him smile, eyes hooded, from where he watches relaxed. Your hands find the waistband of your jeans, slowly unbuttoning them and shimmying out of them, swaying your hips as you do. You’re sure you would find this strip tease embarrassing if it weren’t for how his hungry eyes drink in every expanse of new skin exposed. You bend down to give him a view of your ass as you pull your panties off, a thread of your slick following them as they reach the floor, making him groan loudly. “Fuck. I love your ass.”

You drape yourself on his lap, the material of his jeans on your bare skin making you shiver in excitement as he gently caresses your behind. “Since you love rapping so much, how about you rap that song from earlier, hmm?” he says as he lands a loud smack without warning making you jump at the contact. The sharp pain quickly ebbs into pleasure as he soothes the heated skin under his big palm. “What’s your safeword?”

“Rap monster.” That is not your safeword, but your drunk self thinks it’s the funniest joke as you giggle looking up at him to see his face crack into the smallest of smiles before reverting back to a stern look as he glares at you.

“Seems like someone doesn’t want to cum tonight.” He smacks you again, harder this time making you gasp before you’re apologizing at his threat. Namjoon watches your skin bloom red as he tries to maintain his composure. Trust you to make jokes even when he’s spanking you, and trust him for finding it funny.

“Sunflower! It’s sunflower!” you yell as his hand lands yet again on your ass.

“Good girl. Let’s hear that rap then.” You’re not even sure what song you’re mumbling as his hand rains on your behind, each spank making you wetter till you’re dripping down your thighs and whimpering in his hold.

“Fuck so wet for me.” He hisses as his fingers trace your swollen folds making you jump and mewl as he lightly caresses your throbbing clit. He leans down to kiss your red cheeks as he guides you off his lap and on to the bed and lies on top of you, smiling brightly as he cups your face to kiss you, slow and deep. “You did so well, baby. You’re really into ASAP nowadays aren’t you?”

“You really need some variation in the playlists you send me.” You quip, chuckling as you gently guide his face back to yours, kissing him again, his tongue intertwining with yours. As he leans on one elbow, his other hand makes its way down your body, stopping briefly to tweak each nipple and making you moan before he reaches the apex of your thighs. His fingers dip in you slightly gathering your arousal before starting to circle your clit as he starts kissing your neck, suckling the spot he knows makes you go crazy. It’s like your whole body’s on fire as he finds a rhythm, driving you quickly towards the edge, your mind turning blank as eyes squeeze shut and your lips moan his name. You’re so close and he can feel it by how your nails dig into his shoulders, making him hiss, but before you can cum he moves his hand away, bringing his fingers to his lips to clean them as he watches you glare at him with a whine.

“You really think I’ll forget your little joke earlier?” He whispers in your ear, his voice deeper than usual, as he nips on it before sitting up between your legs and unceremoniously stripping himself of his shirt and jeans. The sight of the bulge in his boxers makes your walls clench around nothing as you stare at him open-mouthed. Enjoying your reaction, he places one of your legs on his shoulders, the back of your knee fitting perfectly next to his neck as he moves back towards you, his clothed length pressing against your core as he kisses you again roughly, making you whimper as his hands dig into your sides. Your leg burns as he licks and kisses down your jaw towards your chest, his lips taking a nipple and rolling it around with his tongue. You’re sure he can feel your wetness seep through his boxers as he grinds into you agonizingly slow. He nips at your chest and you moan as your back arches off the bed into him.

He continues his slow kisses down your body turning you into a writhing mess under him. You think you’re going to lose your mind by the time he gets past your hip bone and places a chaste kiss on the top of your mound before moving on to your thigh, nibbling at the sensitive skin and paying no attention to your dripping core making a mess of the sheets.

“Joon please…” you beg, rolling your hips to entice him as he pays you no mind, placing an arm over your hips to halt your motion and continues to mark your other thigh. When he’s fully satisfied by his work, he places his forearms under your thighs and pulls to close to his face, licking a stripe from your entrance to your clit, and it’s like you’ve been electrocuted; your earlier orgasm picking back up as your back arches off the bed, the moan emitting from you barely sounding like yourself. You clasp a hand over your mouth in shock as he continues licking you, his tongue expertly flicking at your clit before he adds two fingers inside you, the digits slipping in easily, making your walls clench around them. He hooks his fingers and you try to grind against him to no success as his arm pushes your hips into the bed. He relishes your moans as your hand moves from your mouth to grasp at the sheets, the sensation too overwhelming as your eyes close shut.

“Are you close baby? You’re not allowed to cum till I tell you.” He feels your walls tighten around his fingers as he thrusts faster and a chant of please rolls off your tongue, your hand twisting in your hair. It’s like every cell in your body is alight from your toes to your scalp, tingling as you get closer, your eyes welling up with pleasure. But once again before you can come undone, his fingers slow down to a snail’s pace, his mouth moving away. The frustration builds in you as a few tears escape and your fists punch the mattress.

He chuckles lightly as he sees you pout under him as, your hair a mess, your lips swollen and red from where you’ve bitten them. God, even glaring at him like you’re gonna kill him, you look adorable. Deciding he’s taught you a lesson, he pulls his dick out of his boxers, his tip swollen and weeping with precum, and lines it towards your entrance, teasing you further and gathering your juices.

Your eyes roll back with pleasure as he replaces his fingers with his cock, filling you to the hilt in one swift motion. The stretch combined with his teasing makes your head hazy and you can hear him groan above you as he puts both your legs in the air together, holding them against his chest with one arm as he thrusts into you slow and hard. You feel so much tighter in this position and he has to bite his lip to ensure he doesn’t cum immediately. You can feel every vein and ridge as he moves slowly and deliberately and even at this pace you are getting close.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck Joonie… please can I cum? Please I’m so close!” You don’t care that you’re yelling, you’re desperate for release, the earlier tension returning tenfold. You vow to break up with him if he denies you one more time. Fortunately for your relationship, he increases his pace, making you see stars.

“Hold it just a little bit longer baby.” His pace doesn’t falter and you’re writhing against him, a babble of incoherent pleas escaping your lips as your hands try to grab on to his forearm. Your legs are shaking and he can feel your walls tighten harder around him. He increases his speed as your pleas get louder.

“Okay baby. Cum for me.” At his command, your vision goes black and it’s like your body is one big nerve ending, pleasure zipping through you making you cry out his name as you spasm in his hold. He fucks you through your orgasm, pace not faltering, till you go limp, your breath coming out in loud pants as he praises you. “That’s my girl. Good job, baby.”

Without changing his speed, he releases your legs, pushing them to your chest as he leans down and kisses you. The new angle hitting your g-spot as you whine in his mouth at the oversensitivity, but instead of slowing down, he picks up his pace yet again, his fingers coming to trace your sensitive clit, making your head buzz with the overwhelming sensation.

“I can’t… Joon,” you whine as he fucks you hard, panting above you and you can tell he’s close.

“Do you want to use your safeword?” He looks at you with concern, slowing down and closely reading your expression. As you tell him no his hips snap into you again, his fingers working faster on your clit as the pain morphs to pleasure. He’s chasing his release, his movements becoming sloppy.

“Cum again baby. I know you can do it. Come on, that’s it” And soon you’re cumming again, screaming as tears fall down your face and your walls clench around him coaxing him to orgasm. He grunts loudly, moaning your name multiple times, as he cums, painting your walls with his seed. His breath is heavy as he pulls out and watches his cum dribble out of you, using two fingers to push it back in before he collapses on the bed next to you.

He brings his fingers up to your lips and you happily suck on them before he pulls them out and kisses you gently, his hand smoothing your hair. He then puts his arm under your head as he cuddles you into his chest, his other arm pulling your waist into him and his legs over yours. You’ve never felt safer or more comfortable than you do tangled up in him.

“Are you okay?” He asks as he gently caresses your cheek, wiping your runny mascara with his thumb, kissing you once again.

“Holy fuck. That was-” Your voice is hoarse from your screaming and you have to clear your throat a couple of times before you can speak clearly. “That was amazing.”

“Phew! The suspense was killing me!” He laughs as you playfully swat at his chest before pulling his lips on yours again. “Shower?”

“Yes. But this time you really have to carry me.” You raise your hands grabbing at the air as he stands up.

“I got you, pretty girl.” He grins widely, his eyes scrunched together, as he kisses your forehead, picking you off the bed and carrying you to the bathroom.

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

Namjoon looked at you from across the room as you chatted with a group of women with a cup of coffee, your breakfast untouched, totally distracted from the guy who was telling him about some app he had made for producers to make it easier to find samples. He rarely got to see you in your professional element. In fact, the only time he had seen you was during the gala and he felt an unparalleled surge of pride. The way you carried yourself was so different than when you were with him. It wasn’t that you weren’t relaxed, it was just effortless - the way you seemed to answer each question with confident authority, the way you gave advice to people who were probably much older than you, and especially the way you tried to engage the quieter people of the group in conversations. It reminded him of why you had caught his eye the first time he met you, and why he was so unbelievably whipped for you. Your duality of being goofy and sexy when you were alone to being this serious vat of knowledge and experience when networking made him weak in the knees.

“So do you think you would use it?” The founder of the sampling app, Lee Seungmin, asked Namjoon. Seungmin was one of the other people invited from Korea, and seemed pretty adamant on selling his product to Namjoon. It took all of his energy to rip his gaze away from you.

“I’m sorry I missed that. What did you ask?” Namjoon asked politely, looking at the shorter, much chubbier man dressed in slacks and a shirt with his company logo on it.

“Wouldn’t blame you. She’s really hot, eh?” Seungmin jokes, making Namjoon choke on his coffee. Although he knows that this guy isn’t privy to your relationship, it makes him a little annoyed at his comment. Who was he to dare objectify you?

“Yes, but I don’t think they invite people here for their looks.” He couldn’t help how curt his tone was effectively shutting him up and making him move away to talk to someone else at the table. Namjoon would feel bad if he didn’t overhear him start the conversation about you with the next guy. Rolling his eyes, he went back to his lunch, talking to Hoseok and Yoongi instead, wishing this brunch went by faster than it did. He was getting sick of people trying to suck up to him or sell him something. Someone even had the audacity to ask him to pose with their product so they could put it on their website. He politely declined, but the thinly veiled attempts at using him and his members for clout were starting to get on his nerves. He could feel himself getting stressed, much like he did when he had to pretend to be perfect for the media, and falling back into the headspace of last month - cloudy, annoyed, and frustrated.

He was relieved when you both arrived back at the room. You held his arm for support as you leaned down to take off your heels, sighing in relief as your feet met the flat ground.

“God, I hate heels!” You exclaimed as you walked over, dropping your blazer on the ground and plopped on the couch, stretching your feet. Namjoon picked your jacket off the floor, draping it on one of the chairs as he situated himself on the other end of the sofa, putting your legs on his lap.

“Since when do you wear heels?” He asks, as he gently runs his hands over your legs, covered with a pair of navy pants.

“Too often nowadays.” You sigh with your eyes closed, and he can’t help frowning at how tired you looked, even though it’s barely past 2 pm.

“You okay, babe? Want a foot massage?” He doesn’t wait for your answer as he starts massaging your feet, smiling as you relax further into the couch.

“Shit. That feels good!” You moan as you relax. “You know they don’t give Grammys for best boyfriends, right?”

“I’m offended you think I’m doing this for something as dumb as a Grammy.” He chuckles, but he knows you well enough to know that you’re avoiding the topic. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s nothing. I’m just stressed about work. Don’t worry about it.” At that you pull your legs from under his hands, walking over to grab your laptop before sitting on the couch again to start working, eyebrows furrowed as soon as you open the your laptop. Namjoon knows he shouldn’t take your dismissal to heart, but he can’t help be taken aback by your lack of openness. You always told him what was on your mind and he felt his heart ache that you didn’t want to share what was wrong. He couldn’t fully blame you. He hadn’t told you about his stresses this past month either, but unlike him, you hadn’t even noticed he was stressed. It made him a little wary, bringing his thoughts back to last night and your reaction, or lack thereof, to meeting his ex. As much as it hurt him, maybe he was right after all. You didn’t love him yet. He sighed as he got up to grab his book, hoping that he could change that before leaving you tomorrow night.

After a few hours of work, you started to feel bad for ignoring Namjoon. He had been nothing but doting this whole trip and you hated yourself for having to finish this proposal this weekend. Feeling your brain turn to mush anyways, you stretched as you walked over to your suitcase, watching your boyfriend who seemed to be engrossed in his book. You felt guilty for avoiding his questions earlier but you could see how stressed he had been from work - in fact, Jungkook had told you as much over text last week when he shared that Namjoon had collapsed during rehearsals. You knew how empathetic he was, he would do everything in his power to make sure you were feeling good, so how could you burden him with your stresses when he had so many of his own. Sure this last month had been hell and you were barely functioning but if you told him that, you know he would worry about you, and you would rather bottle everything up than have him worry.

Reaching into your suitcase, you took out his favorite packet of ramen, hiding it behind your back as you moved over to stand in front of him.

“I got you a present.” You bent down till you were face to face as he looked up at you with a smile and kissed him gently.

“I think you’ve already given me this present.” He said as he cupped your face and kissed you again, lingering longer.

You laugh as you straighten up and pull the ramen from behind your back, watching his eyes go wide in excitement as he grabs it, his dimples poking his cheeks as he hugs you. You knew he always missed home when on tour even if it was just an Asian tour, and his ramen cravings were the top priority when he arrived back to Korea. You hoped this would cheer him up as you grabbed the packet and walked over to the kettle, starting the water.

“Speaking of presents, I was saving this for tomorrow, but now I’m excited.” He says before grabbing the slim velvet box from his bag and walking over to you, wrapping you in a back hug as you pour the seasoning from the packet into the cup of dry ramen. He puts the box in front you and opens it, making it now your turn to go wide-eyed.

Inside the box is a necklace with the most delicate gold chain holding a pendant shaped like a gold slice of pizza with pepperoni made of small rubies. It would seem tacky if it didn’t look so intricate. No one had given you a gift that was so you, and it made you speechless.

“I know it’s cheesy but I saw it in Tokyo and it reminded me of our first date, but if you don’t like it I can take it back and I’m sure I can return it, I mean they gave me a gift receipt and everything.” Namjoon knew he was rambling but you were eerily quiet and the fact that he couldn’t see your face made him uneasy.

“It’s perfect,” you whisper as you turn around, your eyes glistening as you wrap your arms around his neck. He was alarmed. You never got emotional, even when you both watched Up together you barely showed any signs of being moved while he was sobbing.

“It was meant to be for our 100 day anniversary next week but I thought I’d give it early.” He pressed his forehead to yours, drinking in your smile as he held you tighter.

“I’m literally the worst girlfriend. I forgot about that.” You frowned as you looked away before you looked back at him, your eyes wide. “Oh my god! I only got you ramen! What the fuck is wrong with me?!”

“Y/N… Relax. I didn’t get you a present for you to get me one. Plus I know you’re nothing without your calendar app. I swear you’d forget to eat without it.” He laughed trying to reassure you as he kissed your frown away. “If anything it’s Siwon’s fault for not programming it in there.”

“I don’t deserve you.” You sigh as you hug him tightly, making Namjoon’s heart swoon as you ask him to put the necklace on you. He does so, kissing the nape of your neck where he clasps it and telling you that you deserve the world. You wanted to tell him you loved him before you chickened out again but before the words could make it out of your lips his were against them.

Later that night, he feels even happier as he sees you wear it to the gala. Even though he knows he can’t hold your hand, the fact that you have a symbol of his love for you around your neck makes him giddy.

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

“Joon, seriously. I have to get this done.” You giggle as he kisses your neck, moving the strap of your tank to the side as he continues lavishing you in kisses. Namjoon was impatient. He had spent the whole night watching you from afar. He’d be damned if he had to wait any longer to have you in his arms. Work can go to hell.

To say that Namjoon hated the gala would be an understatement. First, you and Yoongi ended up unintentionally matching, and he found himself irrationally jealous at the fact that his stylist didn’t choose the Louis Vitton outfit for him so he could match with you. Second, even though all the attendees were placed on tables according to country, you had decided to sit next to none other than Lee Seungmin, the creep checking you out at brunch, who wasted no opportunity to shamelessly flirt with you, even going so far as to put his hand on your thigh a couple of times. The number of times you politely rejected him for him not to get the hint made Namjoon’s blood boil, so much so that Jin had to poke him to relax his face lest the photographers captured his reaction. And lastly, when he had to watch you dance with some old men as you were too polite to refuse, while they leered at you. Through it all, Namjoon could just watch helplessly as you seemed more uncomfortable. Now that you were both back to your room and in your pajamas, he just wanted to hold you before all the jealousy and insecurity of the night caught up with him. He knew if he kissed your neck enough, you’d soon comply.

“Do it later. We only have till tomorrow. Let’s watch a movie together?” He gives you another kiss that makes your breath hitch, a soft moan escaping your lips. Before you can get too carried away, you move his head away from you, sighing and gathering all your self-control. If you didn’t finish this proposal today you’d be in big trouble - like losing a multimillion-dollar contract big trouble. As much as you wanted to just forget work existed, you had to take a two-hour reality check on this trip.

“I can’t do that. Please understand.” You looked at him softly, but Namjoon couldn’t help getting annoyed. Didn’t you yearn for him like he did at that gala? Were you happy to be hit on by those creeps?

“Are you seriously being like this right now?” He scoffed, pulling away from you, eyebrows knitted together. Namjoon couldn’t understand why you had to work right now. You had been apart for so long, didn’t you want to spend as much time with him as he wanted to with you?

“Like what? I told you I need to have this done by tomorrow.” He could hear the familiar edge in your voice. You were starting to get annoyed.

“Do you know how much groveling I had to do to get this weekend together and you’re going to waste it on stupid work?” He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. You didn’t know he “groveled”, as far as you were aware this was part of his schedule. Why was he being so difficult all of a sudden? It’s not like you had a choice. Does he think you would seriously spend time away from him if you didn’t have to?

“Are you seriously mad at me for taking two hours, two hours, out of three days to finish some work?”

“Yes because these three days are all we get together for the next month.” Namjoon knew he was being stupid, two hours were not a big deal, but at the moment he couldn’t help but feel abandoned like somehow the scales in the relationship had tipped where the balance of affection was off. He cared so much for you, why couldn’t you feel the same?

“Oh don’t be dramatic. I will be done soon.” You snapped, your attention turning back to the screen. If Namjoon was going to throw a tantrum there was no reason for you to indulge him.

“Don’t dismiss me like that. You’re the boss, just tell the people to wait. Or delay it.” He walked closer to you, shutting your laptop, standing with his arms crossed. He wanted your full attention, and he was going to demand it. He hated how condescending you were being.

“Are you kidding me? I can’t do that. This is for a client.” You stand up facing him, anger flowing through you, indignation plastered on your features. Even though he was significantly taller than you, your glare could have made anyone feel small.

“Just do it later and apologize.” Namjoon knew he was being stubborn, but the reason for the fight was forgotten, he just wanted you to admit that you were wrong. As childish as it seemed, he wanted to win.

“What the fuck? I have a whole company that I need to pay, I can’t just skip shit.”

“Oh don’t give me that bullshit. Missing one deadline won’t make you miss payroll - you’re not a struggling small company anymore.” That hit a nerve, he could see it in your eyes as they flared with anger. He would feel bad for making you angry if he weren’t so happy to get a reaction.

“The fucking hypocrisy. Sure Namjoon, have RM miss a concert. It’s okay you’re not a struggling small band anymore!” You poked him in the chest as you moved closer. He hadn’t seen this side of you before. You had never been angry with him before. You had never fought like this before. Your anger only seemed to fuel his. He had no control over his schedule, you did. Why couldn’t you understand that fundamental difference?

“That is not the same thing. You are overworking yourself for no reason.” He was talking with his hands, you knew he only acted like that when he was pissed, but you were not going to have any of this petty behavior. For all his bull and bluster about being a feminist, he’s going to pull this shit on you? His job is great and not stressful or busy but when it comes to you he’s going to pull the overworking card? When he literally collapsed during rehearsal last week and hid it from you? You were livid.

“You’re going to talk to me about overworking?” You laughed sarcastically, your eyes burning. “Oh is it not the same thing because it's my job and not yours?”

“You know that’s not what I meant. Whatever. Fuck this. Enjoy writing your proposal!” Namjoon couldn’t argue anymore. He felt his anger rising to a point where he knew he was going to say something he regretted if he hadn’t already. Using his one remaining rational brain cell, he walked out of the room, not before maliciously slamming the door behind him.

“I will!” you screamed into the empty room, panting with anger as you picked up the water bottle on your desk and threw it across the room, tears in your eyes.

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

Y/N: Have you seen Namjoon? He’s not responding.

Yoongi: Isn’t he with you?

Y/N: No.

Yoongi: What happened?

Y/N: Nothing, we just had an argument and I haven’t seen him. It’s been two hours.

Yoongi: Okay don’t worry. We’ll find him.

Y/N: Thanks Yoongs

Yoongi: Where are you?

Yoongi: Hello?

Yoongi: Namjoon. Answer your phone.

Yoongi: Y/N is really worried about you

Yoongi: Listen Namjoon if you don’t answer in the next five minutes, I’m reporting you missing

Yoongi: Enjoy that press

Namjoon: Stop calling me. I’m fine.

Yoongi: No. Where the fuck are you?

Namjoon: I’m just on the roof.

Namjoon: Please don’t come here. I just want to be alone.

Yoongi: Are you okay? Y/N told me you guys had a fight

Namjoon: I’ll be fine. Don’t tell her where I am.

Yoongi: Okay. Text me if you need a friend.

Namjoon: Thanks hyung.

Yoongi: He’s on the roof. He said he’s fine, but not to tell you.

Y/N: Thanks friend

Yoongi: You should go find him

Y/N: He doesn’t want me, there he made that clear

Yoongi: I’ve known him and lived with him for a decade, trust me. He needs you.

Y/N: Okay, but if we break up it’s on you.

Yoongi: Just go find him Y/N.

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

Namjoon rubbed his face as he sat on the rooftop of the hotel, his back against the railing. Replying to Yoongi he tossed his phone aside. He’d been sitting here for the past couple of hours his anger dissipating into guilt far too quick. Dried tears streaked his face as he tried to gather the courage to go back to the room.

He was scared. The image of your angry face as he dismissed your work popping in his head. He didn’t know why he did that. He respected what you did, but he felt like a hypocrite. All his exes he dismissed when they asked him to take care of himself and not overwork. All the times they came to his studio to force him to leave, only to have the same look of anger that you gave him. He laughed bitterly as he pulled his legs to his chest.

At the edge of the guilt, he could feel it again, the same feeling he’d had since the comeback started, a sort of brain slush. Like a haze shackling him in place. He had felt it many times before but it was never this strong, this force of unproductivity, making him want to forget everything and hide. The stress of this comeback wasn’t any different than other ones. He always made it a priority to write new music in between promotions and shows but his creative block from four months ago was back and nastier. He could feel it gnaw at his neurons, forcing him to stay awake for hours after he should be in bed staring at a blank Ableton file. Usually, he could trick his mind out of this fog by working harder, but lately, it was like it was getting thicker seeping into every aspect of his life, painting his vision sepia, making every movement robotic.

He remembers when encouraging messages from ARMY would make him happy, excited to make more music for them but nowadays it just made him feel guilty. He wasn’t doing enough for them, he couldn’t even string together a series of 808s without it sounding like a gimmick or worse like plagiarism. Last week he had fucked up so bad that his body shook from the memory. He had stayed up all night in some sick form of self-harm, scrolling through hate comments on Twitter then Reddit. He was never sadder to know multiple languages because even if the characters were different the messages were the same. He was a shitty musician, too overhyped by fans, his awards were bought by his company, his dances sucked, he tried too hard, and of course that he was too ugly to be an idol. His rational side would argue that these messages were meant to hurt him, his friends and you would comfort him by telling him they were lies, but he never told anyone about this habit, and his rational side often lost out. If anyone asked why he did this he would say to fuel another song, but he knew the real reason - he just couldn’t stop. So he stayed up all night till his eyes were dry and scratchy from staring at the screen, and had three espresso shots before the show even though he hated espresso, his body eventually giving out during rehearsals. He got quite a few lectures about that. A leader’s job is to set a good example. You have been doing this for so long, be a professional play in your limits. But there were no limits, not when it literally took a mantra of just “power through it” to get out of bed and shower.

He had been hoping this weekend would solve everything - that seeing you would solve everything. As he sat on the roof, the first few drops of rain falling on him, he curled in further into himself. It wasn’t your responsibility to make him happy, clear the fog, but you had done it the first day. His mind felt clear but it was gone too soon. He didn’t know when it happened but he could see it after a while that you didn’t feel the same way he did. You didn’t crave to be next to him like he did, speaking affirmations in his ear as he did in yours. Hell, even when you saw his ex for the first time, you barely reacted. Maybe it was the way you were so adamant that he not leave any marks because you might not be able to cover them this weekend, or the way you made sure to not sit next to him at the gala even when you were seated on the same table by some stroke of luck. You didn’t love him like he did, and he would be happy with scraps, but he couldn’t afford to miss you more than he did. He laughed again, cackling maniacally, as he realized where he was: a rooftop in the middle of a downpour, just because you once said rooftops had magical healing powers. There was nothing healing about being alone looking at lights shining in offices no one was in - it was lonely.

He was so desperate to feel anything other than this fog that even anger was a better option. Maybe he wanted you to put him out of his misery, leave him as he was sure you would eventually before he burdened you with more of his fucked up life before he relied on you further just to have his legs cut out from under him. He sighed, shivering even though the rain was warm, resting his head on his knees. Could he survive if you left him tonight, justly so?

“Joon…?” You call out as you reach the rooftop, searching for him through the rain.

“I told hyung not to tell you. I wanna be alone” You barely hear him mumble from the corner and you make your way over to the dark figure. He’s hunched in on himself, his arms around his knees, his face in his hands and it breaks your heart. Your boyfriend is a tall, broad man who can easily throw you across the room if he wants to, but at this moment, he looks small, almost tiny. It takes everything in you to not just go and wrap him in your arms.

“Namjoon, what are you doing?” You squat in front of him, resting your hands on his arms. You wouldn’t usually push him like this when he seems distraught, you knew he didn’t respond too well to direct conflict but you needed him to let you in, your inherent need to fix going into hyperdrive. When he refuses to look at you, you cup his face and pull it up firmly to look into his eyes. He looks like he’s been crying and it makes your eyes well up. “Look at me. Why are you driving me away?”

With nowhere to run, all he can see is your face, your eyes puffy, red-rimmed and glassy, your nose a dusty pink. He made you cry. He made the person he was supposed to take care of cry because he got pissy over something she couldn’t control, something he was guilty of as well. All his guilt bit at his chest again and he hated himself. You didn’t deserve this. You should leave him. Why were you here in the rain trying to comfort him when he was such a useless asshole?

“Fuck... I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” His voice sounded hoarse and broken, and he knew all the apologies in the world wouldn’t make him worthy of forgiveness. He wished you’d just leave and let him wallow in the rain by himself - he deserved that. Tears filled his eyes and he hoped the rain would ensure they were invisible.

“Hey, hey. Baby, it’s okay.” You kissed him on the forehead, settling on your knees in front of him. His eyes were wide as he looked at you, his hands on top of yours, gripping your hands a little too tight.

“I… don’t know why I picked a fight.” He averted his gaze, not having the courage to look at you.

“It’s okay.” You move your hands to the back of his neck as he places his on your shoulders, opening his legs wide enough for you to move closer, your forehead against his as you caress the hair on his nape.

“No, it’s not. Fuck! It’s like when I saw you yesterday I could finally breathe! I’ve felt so numb these few months but when I saw you, it’s like I could finally be happy.” He cups your face. He knows he needs to be honest but he doesn't know where to start.

“Joonie…”

“And then I could feel it escape again. I felt it. My head getting cloudy like I was slowly going underwater, and I don’t know… I just… I can’t ask you to be responsible for my happiness. It’s not fair to you. I can’t. I can’t.” He knows he’s not making any sense but his chest feels tight and he can’t fight his tears anymore as they mix with the raindrops on his cheeks. He can feel himself hyperventilating. He doesn’t know why he can’t tell you this without breaking down. What was wrong with him? Maybe that’s why you didn’t love him. Maybe that’s why you never got jealous because you knew he wasn’t worth it. How could he support you when he could barely stand by himself. He was so fucked up.

“Joonie. It’s okay. Just breathe, okay? You’re okay.” You cradle his head against your chest, kissing the top of his head.

“I can’t lose you Y/N. I can’t be the jealous idiot that I always am and lose you.” He’s clawing at your sweater, pulling you closer than you are, making your eyes well up at his desperation. Why does he think he’s going to lose you? As far as you knew you had never given him any indication of that. You loved him and you couldn’t imagine a future without him.

“Namjoon. Look at me. It’s going to take more than a stupid fight to drive me away.” You pull his face away from your sweater and hold his gaze, his eyes red and still full of tears. The image breaks your heart but you hope you can convey your honesty to him.

“No, but you shouldn’t be with me. I’m fucked up, you know. You deserve better.” His actions speak otherwise as he holds your upper arms in both his hands tight enough to bruise as if you would disappear if he let go.

“Where is this coming from? Namjoon you’re not fucked up, you’re human. I don’t care how fucked up you think you are. I love you.” You look deep into his eyes, urging him to believe you. You had been trying to tell him you loved him all day but you always chickened out, but not now. You needed him to know that you were here for him. You were dying to know what started this, why he felt this way, but you needed him to realize that you had no plans of leaving.

“You… love me?” His voice was almost inaudible as his bottom lip quivered.

“Of course I love you. I love you - good parts and bad parts. I love 100% of you.” You kissed him gently, wiping at his face with your thumbs.

“Why?”

“Cause you’re you. You make me happy, even when you make me mad you make me happy.” You put your forehead against his again as the rain picked up, pelting the both of you. “Just don’t run away from me, please?”

“I don't deserve you. Fuck. I love you so much it scares me.” He kisses you at that, rough and full of yearning. It’s like the first kiss you shared this weekend and it makes your heart ache. Did he feel this way when he saw you again yesterday? Like he didn’t deserve you? You wished you could go into his head and learn all his worries - this did not seem like only work stress to you.

“Hey. I’m scared too okay? It just means it’s real.”

“How do you do that? How do you sound so sure all the time?” His head is on your shoulder as you caress his hair. It seems as if all the energy has been drained from his body as his grip on you loosens and you feel his weight lean on you.

“Because I believe in us. We’re Rapmon hyung and Y/N noona. We’re OTP, remember?” You lift his face and smile at him as he musters a small one of his own, as you kiss him again. “Let’s get out of the rain, okay baby?”

You both are drenched from the rain when you get back to your room, and you lead Namjoon to the bathroom. He just stands there, eyes glassy as you start a bath and grab a towel, drying the rain on his body. Once the bath is full and bubbly, you undress him and guide him in, discarding your own own clothes before climbing in behind him.

“I always sit behind you when we bathe.” He says, voice barely audible.

“Let me wash your hair, is that okay?” you say tentatively, kissing the back of his neck as he nods.

Suddenly, his head snaps up as he speaks loudly, a slight panic in his voice. “I have to use the special shampoo so the colour doesn’t fade.”

“Yeah. I have it right here.” You smile as he relaxes and you foam the shampoo on his pink hair, massaging his scalp gently. You take your time, washing it out before moving onto the conditioner, letting it sit as you massage his shoulders. You hear him sniff as you work at the knots. As you’re washing the conditioner off his hair, he turns at the waist, bringing one hand to your cheek as he looks at you. You realize he was still crying as your own eyes threaten to fill with tears.

“Thank you, Y/N. I… I know I don’t deserve this. Thank you.”

“Shh… I love you Joonie. You deserve this and more.” You kiss him gently on each cheek and then on the lips. You are not sure how to make him believe this but you hope he can see how much you love him as you wipe his tears. Namjoon’s never been this vulnerable with you, never given up this much control, and if you’re being honest it scares you seeing him this way. In a way, you feel helpless. You’re a fixer and there’s just no immediate way to make him feel better, you just have to make sure he knows you’re here for him.

After you get dressed, he lays in bed as you do his skincare routine for him, running your fingers over his face gently. Namjoon hasn’t felt this way with someone before, so raw but soothed at the same time. He never shows his negative emotions to anyone. Right now it feels like his emotions are a livewire, but the way you gently tap the serums on to his skin, making sure not to miss a spot, he realizes how wrong he was. All the ways he convinced himself you didn’t love him were wrong. You don’t show love through jealousy or possession or even words. This is how you show love - in the quiet of your room making sure that he doesn’t go to sleep drenched from the rain, or skip his eye cream so his eyes aren't too puffy in the morning or at breakfast when you always cut the crust off his bread because he once mentioned he doesn’t like it. He opens his eyes as you say all done and sees you smiling softly at him, some of his confidence coming back. He smiles at you even though it’s difficult, and pulls you to his chest. As you lay on his bare chest for a while, feeling how tightly his arms wrap around you, an idea pops into your head.

“I want to come with you to LA.” You usually don’t make such impulsive decisions, but you could feel that he was not ready to be separated and you were definitely not ready to leave him, but you didn’t want to make him feel like he didn't have a choice so you add, “Is that okay?”

“What about your work?” He asks softly and you can hear his heart beat faster as he awaits an answer.

“I work from home all the time. It’ll be fine.” You rise up slightly to look at him, your chin resting on his chest, making sure to look him in the eyes. “I want to be with you.”

For the first time that night, you see him smile wide enough that his dimples poke through his cheeks and you’re sure you’ve made the right decision.

“I love you, Y/N. Thank you.” He pulls you further so you are fully lying on top of him and as you tell him you love him again, you feel his breath even out, both of you falling into a much need sleep.

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

previous | masterlist | next

#bts fanfic #bts fic #bts x reader #bts rm scenario #rm x reader #rm fluff #rm smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon x you #namjoon fluff #bts namjoon #namjoon #namjoon smut #bts smut #bts fluff #bts namjoon scenario

160 notes · View notes

thelittlebirdthattoldyou · 4 years

Note

Since you wanted happy Iwaoi prompts: “She Looks So Perfect” by 5sos? Thank you 🤩

this anon understands me <3

she looks so perfect - 5 seconds of summer

pairing: iwaizumi hajime/oikawa tooru

content: fluff, established relationship, marriage proposal

wc: 885

One: Iwaizumi’s last text to him, delivered when he was on the train to the airport. It reads, “Don’t think you can overtrain in Argentina just because I’m not there to stop you. I have your teammates’ contact information and I WILL use it.” Oikawa hasn’t yet responded; he’s tried, but none of the words he types out are enough to reflect the enormity of how much Iwaizumi means to him.

Two: an Instagram post from a month ago, in which Iwaizumi and Oikawa stand side by side in their school uniforms. Iwaizumi’s arm is wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him close, and they’re both beaming at the camera, holding up two framed diplomas.

Three: a selfie taken just this morning. In the foreground, half of Oikawa’s face, blurry and out of focus. Behind him, a half-awake Iwaizumi sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed in a pair of boxers half a size too big. He’d glanced in Oikawa’s direction the second before the picture was taken, and the expression on his face is so open and fond that Oikawa thinks he could cry if he looks at it for long enough.

Oikawa sighs, shutting off his phone and slipping it in his pocket. He leans back in the rigid metal chair, staring at the TV monitor on the wall behind the flight attendant’s booth. His flight to Tokyo boards in two minutes. And then an hour-long layover at Narita Airport, and then a transpacific flight to Buenos Aires.

Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to spend his final minutes in Miyagi staring at the physical reminders of all his memories with Iwaizumi. He knows he has to leave - no matter how much he loves his hometown, he can’t let it hold him back. There are bigger stages for him to stand on.

The intercom crackles to life and announces that priority boarding is about to begin. Oikawa sits and waits, watches as the people around him stand and line up in front of the gate. The flight attendant checks each of their tickets and smiles at them and waves them onto the plane. Oikawa didn’t know until now that you could feel homesick for a place before you even leave it.

Soon enough it’s his turn. Oikawa stands, his grip on his suitcase hard enough to hurt, and he’s taken two steps forward when -

“Oikawa!”

He freezes.

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi says, out of breath. He looks like he’s run the entire length of the terminal, and Oikawa stares at him, uncomprehending, when he finally comes to a stop.

“Iwa-chan?” Oikawa asks.

“Hey.” Iwaizumi offers him a lopsided smile, and his eyes are warm, and Oikawa may not understand what’s happening but he’s never been more in love.

“Hi,” Oikawa says. “Iwa-chan, what -”

“Will you marry me?” Iwaizumi asks.

Oikawa freezes in place. His grip on the handle of the suitcase slackens. Just as he’s about to open his mouth and ask Iwaizumi to repeat that, because he can’t possibly have heard correctly, Iwaizumi sinks onto one knee.

That catches the attention of their audience. There are some gasps from the crowd, some low murmurs, but Oikawa pays none of it any mind. Iwaizumi has a ring. Diamond, every bit as flashy and gaudy as Oikawa would have wanted for an engagement ring, accompanied with a proposal that’s as romantic as anything Oikawa has ever hoped for.

“I’ve been thinking about this for weeks,” Iwaizumi says, voice soft. “But I didn’t know for sure until I woke up this morning and you were already up, staring at me, with the sunlight hitting your hair so nice. And I couldn’t let you leave without asking first.” Oikawa’s eyes fill with tears, and he presses a hand to his mouth to prevent any embarrassing noises from slipping out.

Iwaizumi chuckles. “I bought a ticket to Argentina - totally last minute, it was expensive, my parents were mad - and I figure I can live with you there for a few months until it’s my turn to leave for Irvine. So marry me, Tooru.”

Oikawa sniffles and nods; he would say yes - wants to scream yes at the top of his lungs - but he doesn’t trust his voice not to break.

Iwaizumi seems satisfied, though, and he grins, looking a little teary himself, and gets back to his feet. He kisses Oikawa on the cheek before slipping the ring on his finger. Oikawa studies it, turning it side to side to examine the way it catches the light, and then he feels like crying again and throws his arms around Iwaizumi’s neck.

“Love you, Tooru,” Iwaizumi says, muffled, into his neck.

“Love you more,” Oikawa tries to say, but it ends up sounding like a series of incoherent warbles.

“We’re holding up the line,” Iwaizumi whispers.

Oikawa sniffs. “Your fault.”

Iwaizumi laughs, rubbing circles into Oikawa’s back. “Guess so. C’mon, I’ll let you have the window seat.”

After drying his eyes in the fabric of Iwaizumi’s jacket, they walk up to the jet bridge. “Congratulations,” says the attendant when they flash their tickets at her.

Oikawa spends the flight with his head pillowed against Iwaizumi’s shoulder, watching Sendai slowly disappear from view. But when Iwaizumi twines their fingers together and squeezes, Oikawa feels more at home than he ever has.

25 notes · View notes

oakleaf--bearer · 4 years

Text

this is my third ace jon fic, this time featuring a lot more projection, particularly around jon discovering what asexuality means

aka georgie tries to take the next step and jon learns a new word

also on ao3

Jon pressed play. He was curled up in bed, back against the headboard and cross stitch in his hands. It was a hobby he'd gotten into after his grandmother had become frustrated when he interrupted his television programs with his fidgeting. Give his hands something to do and he could pay attention for hours. Cross stitches were a pleasant distraction for his thoughts.

The theme song had just finished playing when Georgie came out of the bathroom. She blinked at him.

"What are you doing?"

"Watching that documentary I was telling you about." He pointed to the screen of his laptop. "Oh, did you want to watch it with me? I can start it again."

"No, that's okay." She said slowly, climbing onto her side of the bed.

He hummed and returned his attention to the screen.

"My housemates will be out all night." She whispered, curling against his side.

"You said."

"It's just us."

"Mmm."

She reached out and took the cross stitch out of his hands.

"Georgie-"

"Jon."

"I'm watching-" He pointed to the screen. "I've been looking forward to this documentary."

She nuzzled against his neck. "It'll still be there."

"Yeah, but it's really interesting. This episode is about Dover Castle."

"Mmm. Sounds fascinating."

"It is, there's a Roman lighthouse there. The curtain wall, that's the bit around the outside, you know, the wall, it's a mile long. There was restoration work done on the keep, it's now fully decorated again. With original techniques, it was a whole thing- What are you doing?" She was rubbing gentle circles into his belly. It felt a bit like she was petting him like a cat.

Sighing, she sat back, closing his laptop and placing it on the bedside table, deaf to his sounds of protest. She clambered up, sitting herself on his lap. "What do you think I'm doing?"

"I don't know. If you wanted to cuddle, you could've said, I wouldn't have minded wearing headphones."

"Christ Jon, you're so oblivious." She lowered herself against him and Jon's brain suddenly caught up.

"Oh, oh no, I'm sorry, you wanted- Right, my mistake." He awkwardly put his hands on his hips. "I'll, you know, get to work, I suppose."

She snorted, shaking her head fondly. "Get to work?"

"No?"

"Not the usual phrase."

"What is the usual phrase?"

She leant forward and whispered something in his ear that made him blush furiously.

"Oh!" His voice came out as a squeak. "Oh? I see. Yes, okay, right."

She chuckled and leant down to kiss him, deep and slow, gently biting on his bottom lip. Jon just sort of sat there, letting her move (there was a shocking amount of moving) and trusting her to take the reigns, so to speak.

Apparently that was the wrong choice, because after a minute or so of kissing (and moving) she leant away from him. "You're still thinking about Dover Castle, aren't you?"

"No."

"Jon."

He ducked his head, a little sheepish. "I was thinking about Edinburgh Castle."

"Jon, your girlfriend is currently on top of you and you're thinking about Edinburgh Castle. Is everything okay?"

He nodded quickly. "Everything's fine! Sorry, I'm just distracted."

"Is this because I interrupted your documentary?"

"No, not that," He shook his head, then paused. "Well, sort of. I don't know."

"Come on, tell me what's happening in that big brain of yours?" She wriggled backwards until she was sat more firmly on his thighs, a safe distance from any potential distractions.

He tilted his head back, dropping it against the headboard. "I just didn't think this was going to happen tonight. I knew it would happen at some point, but I don't know. I wasn't expecting this."

"I invited you over to my flat while my housemates were out. What did you think was going to happen?"

He shrugged. "Not this, I guess."

Jon could see her mental cogs whirring away. "Jon, is this the first time anyone's done anything like this with you?"

He nodded. "Is that bad?"

"No, no, everyone takes things at their own pace, it's just-" She frowned. "I thought I was being obvious."

"You've told me extensively how oblivious I am."

"And I love you for that, but still. I thought I was being Jonathan Sims levels of obvious."

He shrugged, awkwardly fidgeting with the hem of her shorts. "I didn't pick up on it. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise, I just know to be even more obvious next time."

He blanched. "There will be a next time?"

"You don't want there to be a next time?"

"I've just... not considered it, I guess. It feels like a very big thing to discuss, and I knew it was going to come up at some point but I thought we would have more time."

"Are you nervous?"

He nodded. "Very much so. People make such a big deal out of having sex that I suppose I don't want to mess up."

"Mess up? Jon," Georgie laughed gently, stroking his face. "you won't mess up. It's not that big of a deal."

"Isn't it?"

"Not at all.

"But you like sex. People like sex. I'm going to like it, I just don't know how to-" He waved his hands. "I'm supposed to want to do this."

"Supposed to- Jon, if you don't want to then that's okay."

"But it's not fair to you for me to ask that you wait for me to get over my ridiculous hang ups."

Georgie shook her head. "Come on, let's talk about this tomorrow. Tonight is clearly not the night. Finish your documentary, I'm going to get some water."

Jon raised his eyebrows. "Are you sure?"

"More than."

"But aren't you-" He searched for the right words. "Don't you want to-"

Georgie grabbed his hand. "Jon, I love you, but do not finish that sentence, okay?"

"Okay."

A few days later he was sat at her kitchen table, a mug of coffee being pushed into his hands, grimacing about the smell. "I really don't understand why people like this."

"It's coffee."

"I'm aware."

Georgie gave him one of her 'I'm plotting something, play along' looks. "Lots of people like coffee."

"I know they do, I just don't get it."

"What don't you like about it?"

"The smell? The taste? Tea is just a far superior drink on all levels."

She leant forward over the table. "So there's not a single thing you like about coffee?"

He thought. "The warmth, I guess? If nothing else it's nice to hold. Comforting."

"Right."

"Right. What's this about?"

Georgie leant down to her bag and slapped a leaflet on the kitchen table. "Here."

"What's this?" He pulled the leaflet towards himself. The bright flashy words on the front read 'So You Think You're Queer?''. "Georgie, I'm bi. You know that right? We are well past this."

"Are we?" She asked. "Are you sure?"

"Is this about the other night? I know I'm attracted to women, I promise you I'm not gay."

"It's not that. I was just reading it when I was waiting for my appointment and I came across a bit that made me think of you. Particularly about the chat we had the other night." She took it out of his hands and flipped it open to one of the pages. "Here."

He stared down at the page she was holding out. "What- what is this?"

'Asexuality', the page announced. Georgie had clearly underlined it a couple of times. The page had a definition and a small chunk of text that Jon's eyes skipped right over.

"Georgie, what is this?" Jon looked up at her.

She was staring at him with an expectant expression. "Asexuality. It's the lack of sexual attraction."

He was already shaking his head. "No, I know I am attracted to you."

"Sexually?"

He paused. He knew Georgie was pretty, that much was clear. And she was funny, she always knew how to make him laugh. He liked spending time with her. He liked calling her his girlfriend. But as he tried to picture their relationship, each logical step of it, the part with sex was just... missing, he supposed. He couldn't picture it.

"But, I like you. I know I like you."

"You can like me without it being sexual. Warmth without the smell or the taste, right?"

Jon blinked at her, then remembered the coffee in his hands. "That's a drink. Did you just compare our relationship to a drink?"

"I knew if I thrust this onto you without some sort of metaphor you'd immediately panic. Make it weird or Jonathan Sims won't focus."

"I'm sorry."

"Not your fault. But what do you think?"

He stared at the leaflet. It was a possibility. Georgie was nice, he liked dating her, but the thought of doing... that made him feel sick.

But people enjoyed sex. It seemed to be all people could talk about a lot of the time. If Jon didn't want that...

"Georgie, is there something wrong with me?"

"What?"

"Sex is normal, it's a thing normal people do. If I don't want it, surely that makes me-"

"I'm gonna stop you right there. Listen to me very carefully Jon." She took his hands. "Not wanting sex doesn't make you not normal. It just means you don't want sex. There isn't some preordained rule that says that sex is something everyone has to do. So you might be asexual, who cares? You're not broken. Being bi doesn't make you broken, why would this? It's just another label."

He gave her a small smile. "You're sure?"

"A thousand percent. Read the leaflet. If you agree with it, then we can do some more research. If not, then we can forget about this." She took the mug of coffee out of his hands. "Until then, let's not worry about that particular facet of a relationship."

"But what about your needs."

She gave him a look that would've been withering had she not been grinning ear to ear. "Jon, I have dated plenty of very crappy dudes who aren't nearly as considerate as you. I can look after myself. This just means I won't have to fake it."

"Fake it." He frowned. "Fake what?"

She raised an eyebrow.

"Oh! Oh good lord. Really?"

"Oh yes."

"How often?"

"More than you'd think. Some people just don't know their way around down there."

Jon felt somewhat lightheaded. "I doubt I'd be much better."

"Well like I said, we aren't gonna worry about that until you've done your homework. Don't fall into a guilt spiral over this. Remember, you're not broken, no matter how much of that you agree with." She pointed at the leaflet.

He nodded.

Over the next half an hour of reading the leaflet, then opening up his laptop and reading some more, Jon felt more seen than he had in years. A comforting sort of warmth settled into his stomach.

Asexual. Strange how one little word could make so much sense.

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #georgie barker

25 notes · View notes

pixelgrotto · 4 years

Photo

Night City, I barely remember ya

I beat Cyberpunk 2077 last month, and honestly, I haven’t thought about Cyberpunk 2077 that much since.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. CD Projekt Red’s follow-up to The Witcher 3 was meant to be the sort of game that would stick in your mind after completion. It was promoted over eight years of hype stemming from its initial 2013 reveal as a example of CD Projekt’s infamous “vodka and Slavic magic” - a behemoth destined to change open world RPGs forever. But in the roughly 12 weeks since its release, the stuff that’s happened to Cyberpunk 2077, including its delisting from the Playstation store for being chock full of bugs and the theft of its source code by hackers, has been more cyberpunk than the actual game.

I was one of those people super hyped for this game when it was first announced. I mean, the Witcher franchise left an indelible impression on me; how could I not be psyched to see its devs tackle one of my favorite sci-fi genres? But my hype deflated over the years, largely due to tales of terrible crunch emerging from CD Projekt’s studios and social media marketing that was ill-advised at best and transphobic at worst. Everything seemed to slowly hint that the game’s vision of “cyberpunk” - a genre that can tell incredible futuristic tales of social upheaval and marginalized peoples - would be mostly style with not so much substance.

Despite me keeping my fingers crossed, the end product is pretty much what I feared - and I guess I should’ve known, since the official sourcebook for Cyberpunk 2020, the tabletop RPG that CD Projekt Red used as inspiration, actually lists “style over substance” as one of its rules.

Cyberpunk 2077’s main story revolves around a merc who dreams of big time heists in Night City named V. After a heist goes south, V ends up absorbing a biochip made by big bad corporation Arasaka that features the captured personality of rockstar-turned-terrorist Johnny Silverhand, played by Keanu Reeves - who, to be fair, does a good job with the material he’s given. Cue a bunch of quests that revolve around V and Johnny coming to terms with each other, taking down Arasaka and figuring out how to separate the chip from V’s brain.

In theory, this sounds like a cool way to explore the very cyberpunk themes of identity and what it means to have a corrupt company preserve a human soul beyond its organic shell. In reality, though, the story’s a surface level examination of these concepts, and Johnny Silverhand remains a massive dick throughout most of the game, only becoming relatable if players give him the benefit of the doubt - which they’re expected to do because he’s played by Keanu Reeves.

Johnny’s animosity towards Arasaka is also never completely outlined. He - and most other characters in Night City - keep telling V that corporations are awful because they disregard human rights and destroy the environment, but we never get many chances to see for ourselves how Arasaka and similar companies, like Militech or Kang Tao, actually do this. Arasaka does kidnap Johnny’s ex-girlfriend and is behind the tech that transfers his soul to a biochip, yes, but Johnny also threatens to destroy them at all of his shows and eventually sets off a bomb in their headquarters. Not that I’m siding with the corporation, but for much of the game we’re expected to treat them as the number one enemy simply because other characters say so, which is very much a “show, don’t tell” missed opportunity. If anything, Arasaka’s portrayal feels more like a vestige of the cyberpunk genre’s unfortunate maturation during the 1980s, where the fear of Japanese conglomerates taking over the world was common and a future where Asian companies were all-powerful instead of Western ones seemed like a dystopia.

Cyberpunk 2077 is very much caught in that yesteryear mold, featuring elements that might have been progressive in the 1980s but seem passé now. For a game that relied on questionable representation of trans people in its marketing, there were no notable trans NPCs that I came across, and even though there’s a robust character creation system where you actually can make a trans person, the game makes the troubling decision to only offer binary pronouns tied to V’s voice. Despite the fact that many of the best modern cyperbunk works deal with body augmentation and the line between man and machine, most of the physical modifications you can pay for at Night City’s “ripperdoc” facilities are niche features that only offer minimal stat boosts, with only two major ones that I know of - the mantis blades and gorilla arms - actually causing extensive changes to V’s looks. And finally, while there are tons of characters of color in the game, ranging from the Haitian Voodoo Boys gang to V’s “friendly ethnic friend™” Jackie Welles, most of them are varying degrees of stereotypical. For instance, Goro Takemura, an ex-Arasaka employee, sends you text messages reminiscent of haiku at one point because he’s Japanese and has to talk like a formal, honorable samurai or something.

If you’re able to look past these issues - along with the myriad of bugs that Cyberpunk 2077 shipped with - there’s still the niggling feeling that this game could have been so much more. The signs of a troubled development process are numerous, and there are Reddit threads packed with still-visible remnants - like useless combat skill perks and an entire metro system - that were part of gameplay elements gutted at some point in order for those overworked CD Projekt Red programmers to make a long-delayed release date. Even mainstay stuff in the open world genre - like the police chases common in the Grand Theft Autos - are absent, and Cyberpunk 2077’s 2018 demo, chock full of promised features that never made it into the final product, has to be one of the most notorious bits of smoke ‘n mirrors “gameplay” in recent memory.

Perhaps most bothersome is the feeling that a lot of your choices don’t seem to matter all that much in Cyberpunk 2077, which once touted itself as “a full-fledged RPG, not a shooter with RPG elements,” but ends up feeling more like the latter than the former. The game’s three different lifepaths - nomad, streetkid and corpo - only amount to about thirty minutes of unique playtime at the start and a few different dialogue options. The vehicle combat sequences that punctuate key missions are largely scripted, looking cool but offering little consequences depending on what V aims at. The side quests I encountered had minimal branching paths, and the only time the main story opened up to offer some real choice was in the game’s final chapter. Considering that CD Projekt once developed The Witcher 2 - a 2011 game that branches dramatically at its halfway mark to the point where a lot of folks insist that you need to play it twice in order to feel satisfied - Cyberpunk 2077 feels like a step back.

And yet, despite all of these criticisms, I still put nearly 80 hours into the game over the course of December, January and February. You don’t do that for something that’s patently unfun, so let me be clear - there is an entertaining experience buried beneath an avalanche of unfulfilled potential here. Driving on my Akira-esque bike through Night City’s slums as the game’s best song bumped on the radio, taking out legions of baddies with my mantis blades and relishing in the game’s extensive photo mode (as you can probably tell by my screenshots above) was a good time. In spite of his assholery, I did feel something akin to attachment for that bastard Johnny Silverhand by the finale, and there were a few key moments - like when I was scuba diving in the ocean with my girlfriend Judy, looking at the remains of a town destroyed by the land seizing machinations of corporations - that felt like this game had something to say beyond “bang bang gunplay and neon aesthetic.”

But at the end of the day, while I do feel moderately interested in someday checking out Cyberpunk Red (the newest iteration of this franchise’s tabletop RPG), CD Projekt’s seven-year-hyped-up behemoth has largely faded from my brain one month after beating it. On Twitter, I’ve seen Cyberpunk 2077 described as something akin to a flashy Netflix series with lots of fanfare and flair but not much else - and I can’t really argue with that statement.

Night City was supposed to be the stuff of a long-term relationship. Instead, it feels more like a fling.

#pixel grotto #now playing #cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk #cd projekt red

9 notes · View notes

yourkimjaejin · 4 years

Text

4 Times He saw Her, 1 Time She saw Him

Legend: English, Thoughts

Year ~ 2019

Author note ~ Check the tags for more commentary!!!

The first time he saw her was in the hallway, He and Mark were just on the brink of being late to practice. Blame Mark’s last minute bathroom breaks. The members of 127 had been moved to a new practice room for today and the two youngest were running everywhere trying to find it.

That’s when he saw her. Mark had finally remembered where the room was and took off. Donghyuck speed walked to catch up with his hyung when two girls walked out of another practice room. Both girls were dressed in plain clothes, nothing flashy. The girls had masks covering their faces from view.

The two quickly made their way down the hall. One of them recognized Donghyuck, One nudged the other before bowing in greeting. As the duo continued walking, Donghyuck attention was caught on one of them.

The girl on the right had the most beautiful golden skin, just like his. Her hair was big and curly. He hadn’t seen hair like that since he was in America on tour. But it suited her. Their eyes met for a moment. Time moving slow as they passed each other.

“HYUCKKIE!!!! I FOUND THE ROOM!!!!” Mark’s voice called out, knocking the two back to reality. Donghyuck bowed back before racing down the hall to practice.

The second time he saw her was after hours.

He had stayed after practice to nail their comebacks choreography. After three hours, he finally nailed it. Donghyuck told his manager that he was ready to go and got his stuff together.

While roaming the halls, Donghyuck noticed a familiar tune traveling around. A melody he knew well but couldn’t place after a long day of dancing. As he neared the source, the answer became clear. It was Sherlock by Shinee. The door to the room wasn’t open but luckily this room had a window. Donghyuck wondered which of the trainees were learning Sherlock this week.

When he peeked thru the window, his eyes meet the figure of a girl. A girl with golden skin and curls for days. It was the girl he met, well saw, in the hall. He noticed her sweat soaked shirt, giving him an idea as to how long she had been dancing. Despite her clear fatigue, her motions and lines were clear. This girl was hitting the choreo like she debuted with Shinee herself.

Donghyuck admiration was interrupted when his manager texted that he was downstairs waiting on him. Donghyuck took one last look at the girl as she enter the home stretch of the dance. He hoped she got home safe.

The third time he saw her was across the SM cafe floor.

Doyoung had lost rock paper scissors again so it was his job to get drinks for the rest of 127. Donghyuck graciously offered to help his hyung bring the drinks back up. NOT! No, Donghyuck just wanted to annoy Doyoung some more.

Donghyuck and Doyoung stood off to the side waiting for their drinks. The fans around them whispered and pointed in the face of their idols. The two 127 members waved at some of the fans around. Donghyuck was scrolling thru his phone when a voice spoke next to him.

“Noona, just get me an iced coffee, extra pumps of vanilla.” the first girl said.

“I got it, Amaya-ah, and i told you stop calling me noona” The second girl flicked the first girls shoulder.

Donghyuck almost didn’t recognize the girl with her straight hair but he knew the honey skin tone anywhere. Their weren’t many people in Korea with tanned skin. It stood out in a society where fair skin is best. But that perception was changing.

While the girl was ordering, His groups drinks finally arrived. Doyoung grabbed one carrier while Dounghyuck grabbed the other. Donghyuck took one last glance at the girl before walking toward the elevator, nodding at fans as they left

Her curly hair looked better....

The fourth time he saw her, she was crying.

Donghyuck was walking to a conference room in the SM building. Everyone from NCT 127 was called in for a special announcement from Lee Sooman himself about the future of their group. He was about to turn right but he heard a sound coming from his left. The sound of sniffling.

By now, Donghyuck started to call the girl Honey because of her skin. He constantly thought of approaching her but the time never seemed right. Honey was on the phone, speaking in English from what his ear could catch. Donghyuck wasn’t fluent but he could pick up a few words.

“I know.”

“I miss you too.”

“I don’t know when I’ll be back home.”

“You can call anytime bro.”

“Tell mom to send me those snacks.”

Honey ended her called soon after. She stood up, taking a second to wipe the tear tracks before heading in Donghyuck’s direction. The boy, quickly making it seem like he wasn’t just eavesdropping on her conversation. He fixed his hair and his clothes and turned the corner.

Bumping right into Honey.

The two steadied themselves on each other. Donghyuck grabbing her forearm. Honey clenching his bicep.

“I am so so-” When Honey got a glimpse of his face, her eyes widened. She jumped back, immediately dropping into a bow. English changing to calculated Korean.

“Sunbaenim, Please forgive me. I wasn’t looking.” Her gaze on the floor.

“No no, it’s ok. I wasn’t look either.” He chuckled. “Are you lost?”

Honey moved her hair behind her ear, “No I know where I’m going. Thank you for your concern Sunbaenim.” She bowed again.

“No problem. See you around....uh what’s your name?” He was thanking the heavens for this moment.

She smiled, “Migyeong. Jin Migyeong.”

He smiled back, “See you around, Migyeong-ah.” He nodded to her making his way thru the door next to her.

Migyeong.......I like Honey better....

The first time she saw him was at the back on the conference room.

Lee Sooman just announced to the boys that they would make history as the first SM group to have a female member. This new girls, Moxy, would offically be apart of NCT 127 along with Johnny and Doyoung hyung. The three new member would debut during the groups next comeback, Limitless

The reactions around the room were varied. Some were happy to finally have Johnny and Doyoung with them. Some were curious of the talents this girl had. some were in shock, some were looking to their managers for answers....all except one.

Migyeong’s eyes meet the eyes of the sunbaenim she crashed into outside. Her emotions were all over the place after talking to her brother, Elijah. He still had some moments where he missed his sister and just had to hear her voice.

Lee Sooman left the room already heading to another meeting. Migyeong barely heard the manager encouraging the boys to come up and speak with her. After learning their ages, the youngest member of NCT 127 wandered over, happy to have another member that are around his age. Migyeong didn’t even noticed when honey skin met honey skin as Donghuck held out his hand to her.

“I guess you couldn’t get enough of your sunbae, eh Noona?.” Donghyuck and Migyeong both laughed while shaking hands.

It was a start to a beautiful friendship.

#nct #NCT AG #NCT AG.Moxy #NCT AG.Writing #Eunji is Aurora's korean name #Migyeong is Moxy's korean name #I literally wrote this in a couple of hours #nct female member #nct female unit #nct female addition #kpop addition #kpop!au #kpop!fakegroup #kpop!addition #kpop!oc

15 notes · View notes

currebunz · 4 years

Text

Commission: Mammon One-shot

AO3 Link

The Devildom was a lot to take in, for any angel or human. It was hard to put it into words, it was like entering a new world. Well, it was. Being one of the first humans to study in the Devildom was a big step for you. This year, you would be studying alongside demons and angels. It didn’t sit in when you had traveled through the magic portal and ended up in the always night-time world. Even as you walked into R.A.D, it still didn’t feel real to you. The demons and angels around you maintained calm forms, making it a bit easier to take in as there was a lack of wings and horns. The kicker was that you also lived with a rowdy group of demon brothers. One was supposed to show you to the campus. The demon of greed, Mammon. "Hey! Human! I'm talking to you!" a familiar voice called out to you. You turned around in time to see Mammon stomp up to you. His face was set in a grumpy frown as if you had taken his precious "Goldie". You didn't flinch away as he tried to puff up his chest to you. "Didn't you hear me? Man, you're a lost cause for sure" he said as he sighed dramatically. You weren't sure why Mammon always did this, it wasn't like you had much influence down here. With anyone else, he was this money squandering demon who was also an older brother. But when it was just you, he always talked proudly about himself. "No, did you need something?" you asked him. Mammon paused for a moment, almost like a frozen screen video game. "No," he said almost childishly. There it was, the small moment of embarrassment that you liked. You weren't sure why it happened, but it was nice to see Mammon relax around you. It wasn't that you wanted to tease him, rather, his proud persona was rather dull. "The great Mammon thought he'd show you some kindness and show you to R.A.D" he said after some time. "You mean Lucifer told you to take me and you just remembered" you couldn't help but giggle. "What?! No!" Mammon gasped. He glanced around, just in case Lucifer was close by. He cleared his throat and regained composure. "Anyways, I'll show you to class already" he cleared his throat and began walking ahead of you. It was obvious he was slowing his pace down for you to follow. This morning, Mammon had left rather quickly from the House of Lamentation. He was taller and his long legs made him disappear before you could leave the dinner table. "Okay" you called out to him. Despite Mammon's "kindness", you were glad he was here. You had heard from Lucifer that various demons would try to approach you if it wasn't for one of the brothers being around. As the two of you walked, you could feel eyes on your body. You were the only human here, not that you would count Solomon as a human. The man was capable of magic, making him just as dangerous as the demons. Compared to him, you were a bunny in a lion's den. "Ha! You're lucky we have the first period together. I bet you wouldn't have made it to the classroom by yourself!" Mammon laughed loudly. You thought about saying a smart retort but held it back. A better idea came to mind. "Thank you, Mammon. I appreciate it" you smiled at him. It was brief, but Mammon's face turned to one of shock. His blue eyes went wide and a red blush stretched across his face. "Um, yeah! Now that is more like it!" he laughed loudly. Several stares came your way as Mammon ate up your praise. He was like a puppy when it came to gratitude. You've come to notice that much at least. As pathetic as it was to most, you found it endearing. It was one of the many things you came to like about Mammon.

As class carried through, you found your eyes wandering the classroom. It was fairly tame for what you had imagined it to be. Resembling that of a movie for wizards or something. Thus, you eventually laid your eyes on Mammon. At first glance, he had his nose buried deep into his textbook. That took you by surprise, Mammon didn't seem to be the study type. But when he turned the page, you saw a flashy logo and text on the paper. It dawned on you that he was in fact, not reading his textbook. Instead, a magazine was snuggly slipped into the pages, hiding it from view. Now that was more Mammon's speed. You recalled him boasting about modeling for some agency with a magazine company. So in a way, he was "studying". You decided to take extra careful notes so that you could share them with him later. Once the class concluded, Mammon let out a tired groan. "Man! That was boring" he sighed loudly. "Oh please, you weren't even paying attention" you scolded him. He looked taken back as if offended by your claim. "Sure I was! I can learn just from hearing alone" he defended. "Okay, what was today's lecture over?" you asked Mammon with a grin. He went quiet, shuffling in place nervously. "You know, boring stuff," he said quietly. It was like a child being caught red-handed after doing something bad. You couldn't help but laugh a little. Mammon's expression changed and he pouted. "Hey! What are you laughing at? I could easily make you regret it, you know?!" he yelled angrily. He crossed his arms over his chest and turned away. "Whatever, I have somewhere to be anyways" he began. You recalled that your next class wasn't with Mammon. Suddenly, the air around you felt serious. Mammon looked a bit conflicted, but he wasn't leaving. By now, you two were the only ones left in the classroom. "So, you know I wouldn't mind showing you to your next class if you asked me," Mammon said in a quiet voice. A smile etched its way onto your lips as you walked up next to him. "Mammon, please walk me to my class," you asked sweetly. A big smile stretched across his face and he laughed proudly. "Since you asked so nicely, I suppose I could help you out, human" he announced to no one else. Mammon began walking again, glancing at his side to make sure you were keeping up. It was painfully cute at how attentive he was being.

Once you had arrived at your classroom, Mammon lingered outside. Once again, he resembled a puppy as he frowned about. "You don't have to worry about me, Satan is in this class" you explained. Mammon turned his nose upward, looking away. "I-I wasn't worried about you or anything! I was just thinking about...what I want for lunch!" he argued. Mammon scratched the back of his head nervously. "You can join me you know, whileI'm still feeling generous..." he added in a low voice. You nodded, knowing full well what he was getting at. "I'd be happy to join you during lunch," you said to him. Mammon frowned a bit, giving you his strictest glare. "Hey, don't get the wrong idea, human. I'm inviting you, Not the other way around" he said. But he didn't seem as angry as he was trying to playoff. "I know" you giggled at him. Pleased with your responses, Mammon relaxed and a smile played out on his lips. "Good, I'll come to get you after class. Don't go wandering around you got that?!" Mammon demanded. You nodded again, feeling the excitement radiating off of him. "Alright then, later human!" he ran off after that. You went to class and managed to understand most of the concepts. Satan hadn't said much to you, he appeared to be just as busy as Lucifer. The most he had done was ask you if anyone had given you trouble yet. The amused smile he wore didn't make you feel any better. It was like he had wanted to hear that you had run into trouble. "Well, just make sure you don't die yet," he said with a smile before leaving. Once Satan had left, you waited outside the classroom for Mammon. You thought you had seen him earlier, but when you had looked down the hallway, he wasn't there. After some time, Mammon rounded the corner. "There you are human, let's go already. I'm starving" he said. The way he avoided looking directly at you made you wonder if he had practiced his lines. "I'm ready to leave if you are," you told him. Mammon looked a bit surprised as if he had thought you hadn't been waiting for him. Which you had been. "O-Oh 'kay then. Let's go" he muttered to himself. It didn't take long for you to arrive at the cafeteria. It was buzzing with students as everyone raced to get the best picks. Mammon took sneaky glances at what you were picking. At first, you thought he might be playing a trick on you. But you noticed him smile happily to himself when you picked something he had also picked. After filling your plate with the most questionable food you had ever seen in your life, you began looking for a place to sit. "Hold on there, where do you think you are going?" Mammon grabbed your shoulder and turned you away from the other tables. You noticed his brothers were all seated at a long table secluded from the other tables. "You may be a lowly human, but you aren't gonna sit with just anyone. Be glad I'll let you sit next to me" he said as he began pushing you toward the table.

Conveniently, there was an empty seat next to Mammon's usual spot. You didn't say anything as you sat down next to Mammon. The others were animatedly in conversation, looking at their phones, or protecting their food from Beelzebub. You ate slowly as you tried to determine whether or not you liked what you picked. "What's the matter? If you don't eat, Beel is gonna take your food" Mammon suddenly said to you. This earned him your attention, just as he had wanted. "Oh, I was just thinking about whether or not I liked it is all" you confessed. Mammon shook his head, using his fork to scoop up a bit of what was on his plate. "It can't be helped, try this. It's pretty good" he said. You didn't miss the flush on his cheeks as he guided the fork to your mouth. You hesitated for a moment before opening your mouth. As Mammon fed you, the table went quiet. To your surprise, the food he chose wasn't awful. You had liked it! Once you had swallowed, the chaos began. "Aren't you two close" Lucifer said in mild amusement. Beelzebub merely nodded in your direction before swallowing an entire plate. "I'm surprised you would trust Mammon's taste in anything" Satan grinned. Leviathan looked like he was ready to duck under the table. "Doing something so lovey-dovey in front of me like that. It's not like you'd ever want an otaku like me anyway" he mumbled sadly. "There goes my appetite, you can have mine, Beel'' Belphegor yawned as he slid his plate to his brother. Asmodeus pouted at you, batting his eyes. "That's so unfair, I wanna feed you too," he said as he raised his fork. He reached over and tugged your chin in his direction. "Say ah~" he sang happily. Before you could say anything, Mammon's face moved in the way of yours. He bit down on Asmodeus's fork, blankly staring his brother in the face. "Hey Mammon, that wasn't for you" Asmodeus glared at the greedy demon. "This human is my responsibility, I can feed her myself" Mammon argued. A light sparked in Asmodeus' eye, but he didn't say anything. The demon of lust sat back in his chair with a knowing smile on his face. You couldn't help but feel a bit of a rush from Mammon's actions. After lunch, your classes flew by pretty quickly. When it came time to return to the House of Lamentation, you found yourself at a loss. The winding path that took you to R.A.D was hard to remember and now you weren't sure where to go. As you began to debate calling Lucifer for help, you heard someone cough nearby. "Hey, what are you doing loitering around after school?" Mammon asked. "Well, I don't remember how to get back to the dorm" you confessed. There wasn't any reason to lie about your problem, after all, you were about to turn to Lucifer. "Hahaha! You don't remember? It's sure easy!" Mammon laughed loudly. Although, his laughter died down after seeing how it didn't amuse you. "Well? Aren't you going to ask Lucifer for help or something?" he asked. The way he fidgeted made you think he had something else he wanted to say. "No, I wasn't planning to" you lied. You had an idea as to what was going to happen next. "Oh!...er I mean it can't be helped. The great Mammon will show you back, for a price" he grinned at you. For a moment, you began to wonder what ridiculous amount of Grimm he would ask for. "I'm good thanks" you started but Mammon stopped you. "Hold on, hold on! I don't want your money!" he shouted. Once he was sure you weren't going to leave, he looked off to the side. "You will just have to spend the rest of the day with me is all," he said in a quiet voice. You couldn't help but smile after hearing his demands. "Okay, your room or mine?" you asked him. Mammon looked almost relieved that you had accepted his offer. "Your room, of course, my brothers don't even knock on my door before entering," he said as he began pulling you along. His hand had your wrist as he led you through the gates of R.A.D. You caught up to him and slipped your hand into his. Mammon jumped a little, but he didn't pull away from you. "If you follow this way, you'll pass all the good places on your way to school" he began as he tugged you down the street. Various shops lined the streets, showcasing their latest goods in the windows. You weren't very interested in shopping but knew that Mammon was. Almost everything caught his eye as he would stop and stare at the windows. He was like a little kid with how he would pull you over and point out something that he liked. "Hey, doesn't this look pretty cool? It'd look even cooler on me though!" he would boast. "Yeah, it really would" you had said in agreement. Mammon wore a silly smile as he walked. "Hmm, but do you see anything you like? Cuz I saw some stuff that might look good on you" he asked.

Now that you thought about it, nothing caught your eye yet. You had been too busy focusing on Mammon to find something you liked. "Oh, I haven't been looking," you confessed. He shook his head as if he were one to lecture you. "That's not good, you should be thinking about yourself sometimes you know? Besides.....I might want to get you something" he said the last bit quietly but you had heard him. Despite him being almost broke at all times, it warmed your heart knowing he thought about you like that. "It's okay, it's the thought that counts" you assured him. But Mammon made a face and turned away. "Bah! I'm just trying to be nice to you. Don't know what I expected from a human" he said in a grumpy tone. Even though he had sounded frustrated, Mammon was still holding your hand tightly. The two of you continued walking until you reached the House of Lamentation. Mammon didn't slow his pace as he made a beeline to your room. Before you knew it, you were back in the semi-familiar room with Mammon at your side. He looked around curiously, taking in some of your items. "You can let go of my hand now" you giggled as you tugged at your joined hands. Mammon jumped, releasing your hand as if it were on fire. "I wasn't holding your hand because I liked it or anything! You, humans, are just so easy to lose track of and get lost" he argued. But you could tell he had enjoyed it by how much he had smiled during your way over. "You can call me by my name, you know, that 'human' thing is getting kind of old," you told him as you sat down on your bed. Mammon made a face, smiling like he knew a secret. "Hm? Does it bug you or something?" he grinned. It was your turn to frown, giving him a tired look. "No, it's just tasteless and rude," you explained. Mammon flopped onto the other side of your bed. "Yeah whatever, just admit it annoys you and I'll stop, human" he grinned. "I already told you, it's not annoying" you argued. But Mammon continued to give you a shit-eating grin. "Human! Human! Human!" he cheered happily. Out of frustration, you threw your pillow at his face. It collided with a hollow thud as it connected with his face. "Hey! Don't throw stuff at me!" Mammon shouted as he grabbed the pillow. you threw another one at him and he barely dodged it. "Stop calling me human and I'll stop throwing pillows at you" you argued. Mammon gaped at you in disbelief. "What else am I supposed to call you then?" he asked. "Call me by my name," you said plainly. Mammon held the pillow up to his face, hiding his embarrassment. You heard him mumble something into the cushion, but you hadn't caught it. "Huh? What was that?" you asked him. Mammon let out a growl before he threw the pillow at your stomach. "I said ____! Jeez!" he shouted angrily. He dived at you and the next thing you knew, you were pinned to the bed under him. You couldn't help but blush from the situation. Mammon was thin, but from this angle, you could see how defined he was. "There! I said it..." Mammon trailed off. His body had moved on its own, he hadn't meant to tackle you like this. Now that he was up close, he noticed the smaller things about you. His heart began to race, what was with him?! There was a knock at the door, ripping the two of you from your thoughts. Lucifer entered the room without warning. "____, I have something...." he trailed off as he noticed the position you were in. Everything happened so quickly. "Maaaammmmoooonnn!" Lucifer was so pissed his demon side came out. "I-It's not what it looks like!" Mammon screamed as he jumped off of you. He ran out of your room quickly, narrowly avoiding Lucifer's grasp. "He can run, but he can't hide from me," Lucifer said as he calmed himself down. He composed himself before turning to you and handing you a card. "There is going to be a dinner at Lord Diavolo's home. Wear something nice" he said curtly before speed walking out of your room. That night, screams of terror could be heard through the house.

The next morning, Mammon was found in the stairwell hung upside down. "LOL! Mammon's been caught again!" Leviathan laughed as he snapped pictures of his brother. "Hey! Don't just take pictures of me! Help!" Mammon shouted. You looked around for anything that could reach him, but alas nothing would help you. "Levi, can you get Mammon down?" you asked. "Pshh, why would I do that? This is hilarious!" Leviathan continued to revel in his brother's misery. "Please? I'll show you a game from the human world" you offered. Leviathan was quick with how he shot a bolt of magic at Mammon. "Yikes! Warn me next time!" Mammon shouted as he landed on his feet. He fixed his uniform before turning to you. "Thanks ____, I guess I owe you," he said sheepishly. Leviathan shoved Mammon out of the way and stood in front of you. "Out of the way normie! People are talking" he said before returning his attention to you. "So this game? Is it cool? Or maybe it's a sim dating game? Tell me! Tell me!" he began gushing to you. Mammon frowned and stood behind you. "Back off you damn otaku, ____ is hanging with me today" he declared. You gently pushed the two away from you before speaking up. "Levi, I'll text you the details later okay?" You promised him. He looked a bit down, but not like when he usually got upset. "Fiiiine, stupid Mammon. Always taking ____ from me" he muttered as he began walking back to his room. Once Leviathan was gone, Mammon began smiling. "So, about why I was tied up. Lucifer caught me searching for Goldie again" he explained. You recalled Lucifer muttering about Mammon's cursed credit card earlier this morning. He had mentioned hiding it somewhere Mammon wouldn't go. "I wonder where he stuck it this time? The freezer was just messed up. What if he damaged my darling?" Mammon continued. An idea came to mind as you realized the situation you were in. "If I find Goldie, will you form a pact with me?" you asked. "Of course!... Er, that is if you find her" Mammon blushed. His heart had raced a bit at the idea of forming a pact with you. But he dismissed it as being excited as to get Goldie back. "Challenge accepted, I know just the place!" you led Mammon off to the small study in the house. All the walls in it were full of books, none of which Mammon would read. "I'm sure it's here, Lucifer said it was somewhere you wouldn't go" you explained. Mammon was quiet for a bit before it hit him. "Hey! I could be here sometimes....if I wanted to...." he muttered to himself. You rolled your eyes and began looking at the bindings. "It would be a book recently moved, how are we supposed to find out which one?" you asked aloud. "Eh? I dunno, maybe it's the least dusty" Mammon laughed. You gave him a pointed glare and he sighed. "Okay, so we could just ask Satan. He usually comes here to read so he probably saw Lucifer" he suggested. You knew he was right, there was at least a chance that Satan would know. "Stay here, if you come with me it will be too obvious," you told Mammon. "Hey! Don't give me orders!" he argued. But you didn't budge on your choice. "Do you want Goldie or not?" you asked him. Mammon sat down on the couch with the speed of a whipped animal. You held back your laughter as you left the study and headed to Satan's room. It only took one knock for the blonde to open his door. "Oh, it's you. Did you need something?" he asked. "Did you see the book Lucifer took out of the study yesterday?" you asked him. Satan thought for a moment before answering. "Yeah, it was the encyclopedia of famous figures in the devildom. It's a dark purple one if you haven't seen it yet" he explained. "Thanks, Satan, you've been a big help" you smiled at him. Before you could leave, he stopped you. "Is this about Mammon's credit card? If so, make sure Mammon waves it in Lucifer's face" he chuckled. You knew very well that Satan didn't like Lucifer and would jump at the idea of pissing him off. "I promise you that Lucifer will be very angry afterward," you told him. Pleased with your response, Satan went back into his room.

You hurried back to the study, finding Mammon sitting on the couch. As soon as you came back, he stood up. "Your back!" he shouted. You stopped, smiling at Mammon. "Did you think I wasn't coming back?" you asked him. "W-well! I mean you took so long! I could've gone myself..." Mammon said shyly. "Uh-huh," you hummed as you walked to the bookshelf. Your eyes scanned the shelves until you came upon a thick purple book. The binding matched the description Satan had given you. However, the book was much higher than you had expected. You looked around for a ladder but none were in the room. You were reminded that the brothers had wings and were much taller than you. Which meant they didn't have much need for ladders. You turned to Mammon, motioning him to come closer. He came over to you quickly, standing exactly where you wanted him. "Give me a lift," you told him. Mammon crouched down and let out a small shriek as you climbed onto his shoulders. "H-Hey! What are you doing?" he shouted. "Be still! Don't drop me!" you shouted to him. Mammon finally settled, holding you up with ease. Although, he kept his head down so as to not look at you. His arms were locked with your legs, keeping you pressed against his neck as you pulled the book out. You flipped through the pages until you felt a part in the book. Sticking out between the pages was a gold card. It was almost tacky looking with the fine details on it. You plucked the card out from the book and patted Mammon's head. "Okay, let me down," you told him. Mammon crouched down so you could climb off of him. He tried to ignore the warm feeling he had when your hands met his body. Once your feet were on the ground, you turned to him and handed him the credit card. “Here you go, as promised” you grinned. Mammon’s eyes lit up in joy as he swiped his precious card from you. “Haha! Goldie it’s been too long! Did you miss me? I bet you did” he cooed to the piece of plastic. You would have found it endearing if it had been anything but a credit card. “We have got some shopping to do together, I can’t wait to hit the stores” Mammon continued to fawn over his credit card as if you were not there. “Ahem, aren’t you forgetting something?” you asked. Mammon tensed up, slipping Goldie into his pocket. “Oh right, y-yeah” he said nervously.

It was time to form a pact as promised. “Hold out your hand already” he ordered you. As you extended your hand, Mammon dropped to one knee. His larger hands gently pulled yours to his face. “I, Mammon, forge this pact with you” he announced. You flinched as you felt his lips brush against the back of your hand. A jolt of energy surged up your arm as you felt something stir inside you. Mammon stood back up quickly, avoiding eye contact with you. “Well, that is it! Just don’t make me do anything weird” he said as he tried to leave. “Mammon, sit” you ordered without hesitation. “Yikes!” the demon immediately planted himself on the floor like a dog. “Oh my god, I didn’t think it would work” you began laughing into your hand. Mammon shot you a pointed glare, standing back up and fixing his clothes. “What did I just say?” he growled. But somehow, you felt like he lacked his usual bite. “Sorry, I just had to” you continued to giggle. Mammon’s face was slightly red, but he didn’t say anything. He liked hearing you laugh….Wait a minute! He liked hearing you laugh?! A human?! Mammon began to panic, was this a side effect of the pact? “Yeah, yeah, whatever. So, did you have anything planned, or were you just going to laugh at me all day?” he complained. Right now, he wanted to get back to spending his money before Lucifer came after him again. “No, that was all I wanted to do today. Now that I formed a pact with you, I'm good” you admitted. However, Mammon appeared restless. “Hey, this isn’t just some small thing ya know? You made a pact with me, the great Mammon after all” he mumbled. “I know” you continued to smile at him. Mammon puffed his cheeks out, pointing at you. “I’m your first guy after all! You should do something to celebrate” he demanded. Now you were a bit confused. Honestly, you didn't know much about the pact. Solomon had only raised the idea to you for fun and you had not taken it seriously at first. But the idea of forming a pact with Mammon didn’t sound too bad. “Okay, then how do we celebrate?” you asked him. Mammon got quiet again, avoiding your gaze. You saw his lips move, but didn’t hear what he had said. “Hmm? What was that?” you pressed him to speak up. “Let’s spend some time together, in your room okay?!” Mammon shouted. He grabbed your hand tightly and began dragging you back to your room. He shut the door and locked it, charming it so no one would interrupt. You stood in your room awkwardly, wondering what Mammon was planning. When he finally faced you, he was blushing from ear to ear. “You humans don’t know it, but forging a pact is special for us demons. So, we gotta make it mean something between us” he explained. Again, you found yourself unsure what he meant by that. “Should we throw a party or something?” you suggested. Suddenly, you were pushed onto your bed. Your vision was filled with a flurry of white hair as Mammon climbed on top of you. The only difference between this time and the last was that this was not an accident. From the look in Mammon’s blue eyes, you could tell he had meant to pin you like this. “You’re gonna make me spell it out for you huh?” he said quietly. Suddenly, it hit you. Mammon was implying...that sort of thing. You felt your cheeks heat up and you felt small under him. “O-Oh, so you meant that…” you said in a hushed voice. Mammon nodded, looking equally as embarrassed. “Took you long enough! I was trying to be nice and stuff…” Mammon pouted. Honestly, you were such a handful.He moved closer to you, nudging your nose with his. “D-Don’t look at me like that! It’s normal to want to kiss your partner” he pouted. You wore a playful smile as he pressed his lips to yours. It was a sweet gesture, earning a pleased hum from you. His tongue ran along your bottom lip, asking for permission to enter. At first, you teased him by not letting him in. You could hear him growl and whine a bit before you parted your lips slowly. Mammon’s tongue eagerly entered your mouth, deepening the kiss. When you needed some air, you tugged at the hairs on his neck. “Yowch! Not so hard!” Mammon yelped as he pulled back. You laughed softly at him, taking the time to breathe in. Mammon was leaning closer to you, eager to kiss you again. You could tell by the pitiful look on his face and the way his lips twitched. You gave him a quick peck, retreating before he could deepen the kiss again. “Hey…” he pouted before following you. He pressed his lips to yours again, moaning as you kissed back. He felt you smile into the kiss and part your lips for him again. Not to be outdone, Mammon let his hands fall to your waist.

When he reached for your shirt, you flinched. “Heh, it’s gotta come off to do this” he grinned. Now it was his turn to tease you as he began stripping you. “N-Not so quickly! And you need to strip too!” you shrieked as he removed your shirt. “That eager to see my body? I can’t blame you, who wouldn’t want to?” Mammon laughed as he leaned back. You watched him tug his shirt from over his head, tossing it behind him. His tanned abs rippled with each breath he took. But Mammon’s eyes were focused on the naked skin he could see. He wanted to see more, find out what you liked and didn’t like. Without warning, he reached for your bra. “Mammon! Sit!” you shouted at him. The demon fell back onto his rear, hitting the floor with a loud thud. “Ow! You don’t have to be so rough with me!” Mammon complained. You could see his eyes from over the edge of the bed. He was still staring at you with that hungry look but not moving. You sat up, pulling your legs to your chest. “I could say the same to you, be more careful with me,” you said back. Mammon looked a bit annoyed but didn’t argue with you. After a moment of silence, Mammon spoke up. “Are you gonna let me move again?” he asked. You shook your head, earning a groan from him. “I’ll tell you what you can and can’t do for now” you said hesitantly. It felt kind of good calling the shots right now. Especially when Mammon made such a pouty face. “Ugh, fiiiiiine” he whined. You let your legs stretch back across the bed and waved your hand at him. “Mammon, come here” you ordered him. He quickly clamored to his feet, standing at the edge of your bed like an eager pet. “You may….touch my legs” you said as he reached for your bottoms. He quickly tugged the article down and tossed it aside. His hands gently traced up your legs, stopping at your knees. When you looked down at him, you saw he was staring at you. Rather, he was staring at your panties. "Mammon!" you squeaked as you covered yourself with your hands. "W-What's wrong with me looking?" he argued. His hands rested on your knees, pulling your legs apart to get a closer look. "I-It's embarrassing!" you yelled. But his hands continued to move up your thighs, squeezing gently as he rose onto the bed. You felt your mattress shift and could tell he was kneeling in front of you. Mammon's face was lined up with yours, looking into your eyes for once. "Hey. Don't hide from me" he began. You slowly brought your hands up, turning away shyly. Now, Mammon let his fingers reach up to the waistband of your panties. His fingers hooked around them, pulling gently as he pulled. You closed your eyes, unable to watch him. Mammon slipped your panties off with your help, removing them from around your feet. He looked down at you, finding the sigh downright adorable. He was reminded that you were human, just a soft human. He had to be careful with you, especially when it came to the main show. "Um, are you sure about this?" he swallowed as you looked at him. "You're asking now? After all that?" you asked. Mammon gave a shy smile. "I-I mean you are a human! I'll seriously hurt you ya know?" he argued. You saw Mammon glance at his pants and look away. Your eyes followed and noticed the small tent in his pants.

You felt your face heat up at the implication. "Just be gentle" you ordered as you laid back on the bed. Mammon took this as an okay to go ahead since any order you gave him would result in him stopping. His hands moved up to your torso, sliding along your skin until he reached your bra. "Hey, lift so I can remove it" Mammon huffed. You looked up at him and gasped. Your noses were almost touching with how close he was. For some reason, he appeared oddly focused, not flinching away from you. "Okay," you did as he asked, feeling his fingers reach behind you. A soft snap could be heard before your bra slipped from your shoulders. Mammon tossed it aside quickly, his eyes taking in the sight of your naked breasts. "C-Can I touch them?" he asked. Although his fingers were already inching closer to your chest. "Yes, you may" you sighed out as he gleefully grabbed at you. At first, it was a bit painful with how rough he was being. "M-Mammon! W-Wait!" you began as you reached for his wrists. He instantly froze up, going rigid like a statue. After about a second, his body relaxed. "Again with the orders" he groaned. You relaxed a bit, remembering you were still in control of this. "Gently now" you warned him. Mammon nodded quickly, his eyes still on your tits. You felt him grab your breasts more carefully this time, giving them a slight squeeze as he rolled them around in his hands. "Humans are so soft, this is the best!" he said happily as he nudged his head into the crook of your neck. "Mammon? What are you doing?" you asked embarrassed by his sudden closeness. "Shut up, I'm just enjoying you. I-Is that so bad?" he pouted at you as he pulled away. You had to admit, he could be cute when he wanted to. "No, it's fine. But I don't know how much longer you will last" you teased him. Reminded about his boner, Mammon reached into his pocket. He flashed you a foil wrapper before tearing it open with his teeth. In the blink of an eye, he had his pants and underwear off. Before you knew it, he was already rolling the condom down his impressive member. "You were that prepared?" you asked in surprise. Mammon's face blew up with red as he fumbled for the right words. "It's not like that! I just figured maybe you would....want to....sometime..." he began to calm down after some time. You supposed even demons had their moments. "It's okay, you're not Asmo" you giggled. Your laughter was cut short as Mammon grabbed your legs and slung them over his shoulders. "Look at you, mentioning another guy when your first guy is in front of you" he grumbled. "The first guy?" you repeated. "Yeah! The first guy you formed a pact with!" he explained proudly. Which was true, you hadn't formed a pact with any other demon. But the way he said it, the title sounded very intimate. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "You really will be my first guy" you agreed. Mammon went still, understanding what you were implying. "Well, just tell me if it hurts. I don't wanna hurt you after all" he said meekly. You felt him shift and something pressed against your opening. Two thin fingers slipped inside, slowly stretching you. “Ah~!” you gasped as Mammon began fingering you. He moved slowly, watching your face for any signs of discomfort. With his intense stare and the feeling of his fingers inside you, the warmth began to spread. You heard a wet noise coming from below as you grew more aroused.

“It’s so warm and wet down here” Mammon said in amazement. You closed your eyes, pouting at him. “Don’t narrate it!” you squealed at him. But Mammon just laughed to himself. “Sounds like someone is getting shy. Don’t you know there will be more sounds once we start?” he teased. It wasn’t surprising that he was getting all cocky now that you were at his mercy. “Just do it properly okay?” you begged him. You felt his fingers move deeper and his thumb brush against your clit. “Trust me, I’ll make it a night you won’t forget” he smirked at you. Once Mammon was sure you were ready for him, he slipped his fingers out of your core. His fingers left with a sucking noise, covered in your fluids. Mammon used the same hand to grab his cock, stroking it slowly. Your cum was smeared over the condom, leaving it shiny in the dim lighting. Mammon positioned himself before you, relishing in the heat emanating from your cunt. "I'm gonna enter okay? Just relax" he warned. You tried your best to set yourself at ease. But the moment he pushed in, you couldn't help but tense up. Both you and Mammon let out grunts and groans as he continued to push into you. "M-Mammon! You're too big!" you cried out. "I-I ain't that big!" he shouted in defense. It took a while before you felt the pain dull down. By then Mammon was about halfway in. He had stopped himself from continuing in until you said so. "You're so freakin tight! Cut me some slack will ya?" he sighed. You took a deep breath, sighing out loudly. "Okay, you can move," you told him. Just as the last syllable escaped your lips, Mammon's hips began moving. He tried to start slow, resulting in an awkward set of thrusts as if to test the waters. Once he got the hang of it, you felt him go particularly deep. "S-Sorry! Did it hurt?" he asked you in a strained voice. "No...it felt good" you sighed out. Now, his slow movements were more frustrating than anything else. You wanted him to move a bit faster. "Mammon, go faster," you told him. It was as if you lit a fire in him because suddenly Mammon was moving much faster. You could make out a few words from him as he began ramming into you. "Y-you! A-Again with the orders! I-I can't stop!" he gasped. "I didn't mean to!" you gasped back when he hit the spot in you that made your eyes roll back. Your back arched against the mattress as Mammon leaned over you. Both of your feet dangled helplessly in the air behind him as he pressed himself as close as he could. Mammon's chest was against yours as he drove into you. "It feels too good to stop! Don't make me stop!" he sighed against your ear. You felt his tongue dart out and lick the shell of your ear. With each thrust, you grew closer to your orgasm. "Mammon! I'm close!" you whined loudly. Your nails dug into his back and you bit your lip. With how loud you were being, you didn't want the others to hear the two of you.

"I know! I'm close too!" Mammon grunted as he pulled out to the tip. He switched to slow but deep thrusts. Filling you to the hilt before pulling out to do it all over again. A few more thrusts and you felt the coil in your stomach snap. Just as a loud moan escaped you, Mammon kissed you. His lips hushed your cry as you came around him. Alternatively, you felt the condom filled with his release. Mammon continued to kiss you until your moans became soft whimpers. He pulled away with a loud grunt, pulling out of you slowly. Your body writhed under him until he fully left you. Mammon pulled away from your tired body to dispose of the condom. He pulled it off and knotted it. He tossed it onto the nearby waste bin and returned to you. Instantly, you found yourself cuddled to Mammon's chest. "Don't go doing this with anyone else okay? I'm your only guy" he whispered. "Hmm, same to you Mammon" you giggled as you snuggled up to him. After your intimate time with Mammon, you noticed he had become more attached to you. The usual distant Mammon was now actively searching for you throughout the day. From breakfast in the morning to the end of classes at R.A.D. You would find Mammon popping up to try and steal your attention from his brothers. At first, you took it as him wanting to keep them from forming a pact with you. Especially since Solomon was talking about how proud he was that you had made one. Even Lucifer seemed happy with the idea of you having some control over Mammon. "Hey, hun~ Why not form a pact with me?" Asmodeus had offered one day. You knew he was only teasing you, after all, Solomon was the only one he had made a pact with. "No thanks Asmo, I know you would have a catch," you told him. "Hm~ You get me ___! Of course, I wouldn't make it that easy!" Asmodeus laughed. You could hear hurried footsteps as Mammon came running up to you. "Asmo, get lost will ya? She said no" he said as he wrapped his arms around you. Mammon's head rested on your shoulder as he glared at his brother. "Wow, I was only messing around Mammon. Are you jealous?" Asmodeus chuckled. "I'm not jealous! I'm just looking out for ____ is all" Mammon shot back. But Asmodeus had a knowing glint in his eyes. "Okay~," he sang as he walked away. You awkwardly coughed, pushing at Mammon's arms. "You can let go of me now," you told him. But Mammon shook his head, giving you a small peck on the cheek. "What if I don't want to?" he smirked. "Mammon s-" before you could finish, he had released you and jumped back. He had an alarmed look on his face, hoping you wouldn’t finish that sentence. "Hehehe works every time" you laughed. "Hey! It does not!" Mammon argued. The two of you continued walking until Lucifer appeared. Mammon visibly flinched, hiding behind you slightly. "Ah, there you two are" Lucifer greeted you and Mammon. "As I said last time, the party is tonight and I hope you both will be on your best behavior" he warned. Lucifer glared particularly at Mammon when he spoke. You recalled he has tried to sell items from Diavolo's home on many occasions, failing as Barbatos and Lucifer caught him each time.

"I promise," you said as you glanced at Mammon. "Yeah yeah, best behavior and all that," he nodded. Lucifer didn't appear convinced, but he didn't have any time to lecture Mammon. "I'll see you tonight then," Lucifer said before leaving. Once he was out of sight, Mammon let out a sigh. "Whooo~ So about this party?" he relaxed and grinned at you. "Uh-huh, a week ago you didn't want to even go" you rolled your eyes. "W-Well, I mean a guy can change his mind can't he?" he laughed. You weren't the least bit convinced. "Well, I have to go get ready! See you then Mammon!" you told him as you hurried to your room. "Huh? Wait!" Mammon called out to you but you were already gone. You wanted to get ready alone, leaving your dress as a surprise. Of course, this was the only time you would get to go to a dance down in hell. You wanted to look your best but most of all, you wanted to make Mammon's mouth drop to the floor. As you did your makeup, you couldn’t help but hum to yourself. Dress? Check! Hair? Wonderful! Shoes? Of course! As you walked down the stairs of the House of Lamentation, you passed by a sleep Belphegor. “Mmmm~ ____~ Take me to the front hall~” he yawned and reached out to you. “Sure Belphie” you rolled your eyes as you took his hand and tugged him along. Even dressed to the nines, Belphegor was still sleepy and relaxed. As you entered the hall, Beelzebub walked over. “There you are Belphie, and ___ too” he gasped. You passed the sleepy Belphegor to his brother, freeing yourself of the responsibility. “Gah! So shiny!” Levithan flinched away from you as you passed. Somehow, you knew what he meant despite his dramaticism. “Well, someone looks nice” Satan nodded at you. “I’ll say~! You should’ve let me do your nails too!” Asmodeus joined in. The attention was flattering, but you were looking for a specific brother. Mammon was standing close by Lucifer, probably non-voluntarily. As you approached, his eyes went wide. “I’m ready to go” you announced to Lucifer. “You clean up nice, I’m impressed” he replied. You glanced at Mammon, who was still very quiet. “Uh, yeah I suppose” he muttered quietly. That wasn’t quite what you had expected from him. But you didn’t have time to talk to him more as Lucifer gathered up his brothers. It was a short trip to Diavolo’s castle, making the commute easier for everyone. Levithan had complained about being cramped between Mammon and Beelzebub. Asmodeus wanted to take selfies and Belphegor kept nodding off. You managed to keep calm before any chaos could break out. Once everyone was outside the castle, Lucifer whipped them back into place. “Remember, we are the guests here” he said mostly to his brothers. He didn’t expect any trouble from you at least. Diavolo and Barbatos came to greet you all in the foyer, smiling brightly. “I’m so glad you made it, especially you ___!” he chuckled. “I’m just happy to be invited” you smiled back. You felt someone eyes on you but you ignored the feeling. “Oh? I hope you won’t mind the other demon guests. I couldn’t help but notice how well you got along with the student body!” Diavolo said as he opened the ballroom door. The room was filled with various demons, showing their horns and tails casually. You glanced at the brothers and noticed they had also changed into their true demon forms.

“I smell food” Beelzebub quickly wandered off, looking for the source of food. Belphegor slinked off to find a quiet place to nod off in. Asmodeus was swept away by a group of demons eager to chat with him. Satan left to talk to an associate of his, discussing a book they liked. Leviathan was on his phone in the corner, trying to watch a stream and ignore the rest of the party. That left you, Lucifer, and Mammon. Just as you were about to speak up, Lucifer was already in front of you. “Care to dance?” he asked. But the way he grabbed you hand and pulled you to the dance floor made it sound like you didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. As you toed around on the dance floor, you couldn’t help but ask him. “Why me?” you asked him. “Oh? I just want to make Mammon angry for a bit” Lucifer chuckled as he spun you around. He turned you toward the grumpy Mammon and gave you a push. “Keep him out of trouble” he whispered to you. As you walked up to him, Mammon began to fidget on the spot. “S-So….um….___?” he began. “Yes, Mammon?” you urged him to continue. “Do you want to dance? With me that is” Mammon asked. You slipped your hand into his, squeezing it tightly. “I’d love to” you grinned at him. A big smile appeared on Mammon’s face as he pulled you onto the dance floor. He rested one hand on your waist and one in your hand as he began leading you into a dance. “Wow, you know how to dance?” you said in amazement. “Of course I do! I’m the great Mammon!” he said proudly. You rolled your eyes, he was always easy to please. “Uh-huh, who taught you?” you laughed. “D-Don’t laugh, it was Asmo,” Mammon said quietly. “Aw, you're so nice to your brothers” you teased him. Mammon blushed but didn’t argue with you. “It wasn’t for him, it was for you” he said quietly. It was your turn to blush, feeling on the spot by his statement. Neither of you realized you had stopped dancing. With how close you were, Mammon was ready to move in for a kiss. Just before his lips met yours, a loud voice cut in between the two of you. “Yo Mammon! It’s been a while huh?!” a demon popped up and slung his arm around Mammon’s shoulder. The male demon effectively pulled Mammon from you and held him in a headlock. “Hey! Cut that out!” Mammon pulled himself free and fixed his hair. A female demon appeared, snuggling up to Mammon’s side and holding his arm. “Jeez, Mammon! You never texted me back! It’s rude to leave a lady like that” she huffed at him. Both demons blocked Mammon from your sight, separating you from each other. “Um, excuse me” you tried to move around them but neither demon paid you any mind. “What are you doing hanging around a human? Can’t find better company” the male demon laughed. “Mammon! Why are you wasting time with a human when you have me?” the female demon whined. “H-Hey! What do you mean by that?!” Mammon shouted. But you had already dashed off, unwilling to hear them continue. You ran into a hallway, descending a set of stairs without looking back. You didn’t want to cry, but you couldn’t help it.

Behind you, someone was approaching quickly. You wiped your tears away and began walking again. You didn’t want anyone to see you like this. Crying on the staircase in a lavish home like some sad princess. But whoever was chasing you was taller, closing the gap quickly. The person followed you all the way to the garden before catching up. “Hey! Wait!” from the voice, you could tell it was Mammon. Knowing him, he wouldn’t give up just because you outwalked him. You stopped in front of the pond in the garden, calming yourself before turning around. Your teary eyes met Mammon’s, making him stop in his tracks. He wore a dumb look on his face as he awkwardly stood before you. “Why did you run off?” he asked, his eyes look for answers in your teary ones. “Why wouldn’t I? Your ‘friends’ obviously didn’t like me” you stated bitterly. “Friends? Those guys just leech on my wallet! I don’t even get how they were invited” Mammon sighed. He looked at the pond and loosened his tie. “Yeah, they did say some mean things about you. But you should’ve stuck around. I gave them an earful over it” he continued. You stared at him with uncertainty, it did sound like something Mammon would do. “Why though?” you asked him. “What?! Really? Are you some kind of idiot?! Why wouldn’t I?!” Mammon gasped in shock. He approached you slowly, almost as if he was afraid you would run away. “I didn’t like what they had to say about you. That was uncalled for, even for a demon. Even if it were my brothers, heck if it was Lucifer, I’d have said something” he continued. You felt him reach for your hands, tenderly taking them into his. His grip was gentle as if you were made of glass and would break under the slightest pressure. “You’re not just any human, you’re ___ and you made a pact with me. So you’re extra special, to me especially” Mammon said with red cheeks. Once again, he was close enough to kiss you. But you were still looking down. One of his hands left yours, lifting your chin so you were looking him in the eyes. “Now where were we?” he said with a grin. You leaned in with him, pressing your lips to his softly. The quiet garden left the two of you in peace as the kiss grew steamier, mostly because of Mammon’s wandering hands. His hands moved up your arms, running along your shoulders. They dipped into your collar before moving down your waist. You could feel his fingertips playing with the zipper of your dress. “Mammon!” you gasped as his kisses traveled to your neck. He hummed loudly as he placed a kiss at the junction of your neck. You felt his teeth nipping at your skin, grazing your flesh before he bit down. He sucked on the area until it was bright red. “Sorry, I can’t stop now” he muttered against your skin. Your body was on fire, from his touches and the situation. Were you really about to fuck in Diavolo’s castle? Yeah, probably. “Okay, but somewhere more private” you told him. Mammon frowned, looking around for someplace nearby. There was a gazebo leading out to the center of the pond. “Nice!” Mammon grinned as he lifted you into his arms. He carried you to the gazebo and dropped you on the long couch inside. “Really?” you asked him. “Private is what you wanted and private is what you got!” he argued. Well, it was semi-private. As long as no one entered the garden. You didn’t get much time to debate it over with him as Mammon crawled on top of you. He resumed kissing you, biting down on your lip and slipping his tongue into your mouth. You couldn’t help but notice he was being more aggressive tonight. His hands pawed at your dress, tugging the material in hopes it would just slide off your body. “The zipper” you sighed against him as you raised yourself with your elbows. Mammon reached behind you and unzipped the dress as far as he could. Instantly, the material slid from you, leaving you almost naked under him. “Hey, you too!” you squeaked when he reached for your panties. “Oh, right” Mammon said almost dejectedly. Although, he didn’t have much to remove in his demon form. You noticed he didn't hide his horns or wings as he stripped. Mammon felt your eyes on him and he stopped. “I can get rid of them if you want,” he offered. “No, it’s fine. I don’t mind” you assured him as you pulled him back between your legs.

Mammon smirked as he fell back into place with you. “I take it you like what you see” he chuckled. “Hmm, your horns are cute” you hummed as you touched the base of one of his horns. “H-Hey! No touching!” he squeaked as he swatted your hand away. “Hm? Are you sensitive there?” you asked as you squeezed his horn again. “N-No! Geez! Sit back and let me treat you will ya?” Mammon complained as he removed your hand once again. You giggled as you let him take charge. Mammon kissed down your chest, stopping at your breasts. His mouth latched onto one of your nipples while the other one was fondled by his hand. “Mammon…” you sighed blissfully. His hand tweaked your nipple in time with his tongue as it lapped at the other. When he bit down on your nipple, you let out a loud moan. “You like that huh?” Mammon said around your nipple before tugging it with his teeth. “Yes! I do!” you cried out. Thankfully, the gazebo was too far away for anyone to have heard you. Mammon must have thought so too as he left your chest and moved down your body. He pulled your panties off and dove between your legs. Without warning, you felt him place a kiss against your lower lips. “Ah!” you gasped as your hands flew to his head. Half petting him and pushing him closer to you, your nails dug into his hair. “You’re already dripping, you want me this badly?” Mammon teased against you. The vibrations from him talking shook your body, earning a whine from you. “I’ll take that as a yes” Mammon chuckled as he licked up your opening. His tongue flicked against your clit, shooting a shock of pleasure up your body. “Is that so bad?” you managed to say as you pouted at him. The sight of him between your legs was nearly enough to make you cum right there and then. “Nah, I think it’s sexy as hell” he laughed as his hands grabbed your thighs. He moved them apart more so he could eat you out properly. You felt his tongue slip between your folds and enter you. Somehow, it had gone deep enough to make your toes curl. “Mammon!” you hissed. But he didn’t stop, bringing his hand to your clit and squeezing the bud. Without warning, you came on his face. He lapped hungrily at your cum as it splattered over his nose and down his chin. When he pulled away, his face was shiny with your fluids. “Mmmm~ You taste as good as I thought you would,” he said proudly. You covered your face and turned away from him, that was just too embarrassing! Mammon grabbed your hands and moved them away from your face. “Hey, no covering that up. It’s my favorite part” he grinned at you. Before you could say a witty retort, you felt something move against your thigh. Mammon’s cock was resting between your legs, seemingly alive after seeing your flushed expression. “I can tell, you already got hard just from looking at me” you managed to say back. “Bah, who wouldn’t when they are dealing with a beauty like you” Mammon blushed and hid his face into your neck. His hips began to rut against yours, running his erection against your opening. There was something oddly romantic about it, he was moving slowly as if he wanted to take his time. “You can put it in you know, I am ready” you said quietly as you held onto him tightly.

Mammon lifted himself just enough to look into your eyes. “Okay, here goes” he warned. He held eye contact with you as he pushed inside. The two of you flinched, moaning as you were wrapped in each other's heat. Mammon let out a groan when he was fully in, finishing with a sharp thrust. “A-Ah! Each time feels like the first with you” he muttered under his breath. You grabbed onto the cushion under you as he began to move. Each thrust was powerful, sending your body moving upward on the couch. “S-Slow down, I’m not going anywhere” you said as Mammon began to speed up. You’re too sexy right now” Mammon apologized. It must have been the idea of fucking in Diavolo’s garden where anyone could find you that was making Mammon hornier about it. His grip on your thighs was nearly painful, his nails leaving red marks in their wake as if to mark you. He leaned himself closer, allowing his cock to delve deeper into you. “Aw fuck, I forgot the condom” he groaned as he realized his cock was bare. “It’s fine, I don’t care about that right now” you gasped when he hit your favorite spot. You moaned out his name as Mammon made sure to hit that same spot over and over again. “Really? It’s okay if I do it inside?” he asked almost too eagerly. You nodded, feeling his cock somehow get bigger. “Alright!” Mammon cheered as he gave a sharp thrust into you. You gasped as the wind was knocked from you. Mammon continued to slam into you with reckless abandon, eager to feel you cum around his cock. “I’ll make sure to fill you up nice and good!” he groaned as he was reaching his orgasm. “Yes, fill me up with your cum!” you cried before you came. Your walls clamped down around Mammon, pushing him over the edge. Mammon came with a loud guttural groan. You could feel your insides fill with his warmth, some of it overflowing and leaking out from around his cock. The sound of dripping reached your ears and you felt his cum trickle under you. “Mammon! The cushion!” you warned him. But the demon fell onto your chest and nuzzled against you. “Eh, I don’t care about that right now” he said with a big grin. You sighed, patting his head affectionately. Hopefully, Barbatos wouldn’t mention it when he eventually had to clean them. “But we really should move before Lucifer comes looking for us” you warned. The mention of the older brother had Mammon rising to his feet. But the feeling of him pulling out stopped him. “Ahh, it feels too good to leave though!” he groaned. But you helped by pushing him by the chest. Once Mammon’s cock was free, his cum began to pour out of you. He hastily cleaned up your lower half with his tie, hoping not to leave a noticeable mess. As the two of you began to dress, you couldn’t help but smile at Mammon. “Thank you” you said softly. “Huh? For what?” Mammon asked. “Oh, for the sex I guess” you didn’t realize you had said that aloud. You had originally meant to only say that in your head as thanks to whatever power had given you this chance. “Hey, this isn’t some hook up you know” Mammon pouted as he approached you. He raised your hand, the same hand he had kissed when he made the pact with you. “I did that because I like you ya know? And it’s not because of the pact either” he blushed as he spoke to you. His eyes flickered around the gazebo before meeting yours. “I love you ____,” he said softly. Your heart began to swell at his words, making tears prick at your eyes. “H-Hey! Don’t cry!” Mammon was startled as tears began to roll down your cheeks. “They are happy tears! I love you too Mammon!” you cried out as you hugged him tightly. You nuzzled your face into his chest affectionately, taking in the scent of him.

Mammon wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. “Oh, then I’m glad!” he replied to you. Neither of you noticed the approaching Asmodeus, smiling brightly. “Oh my~ Am I interrupting something?” he asked loudly. Both you and Mammon gave him a tired look. “Uh yeah! Get out of here Asmo!” Mammon yelled at his brother. But Asmodeus stopped and sniffed the air. “Oh, I know that smell. You two had sex didn’t you? And without me? Scandalous!” Asmodeus feigned offense despite smiling. “Hey! Don’t say that so loudly!” Mammon tried to quiet his brother. If Asmodeus was here, Lucifer and the rest could be nearby. “Uh-huh, you don’t want me to say you two had sex?” Asmodeus continued to talk out loud. By now, Mammon was trying to cover his mouth. “Yes dammit! I’ll do anything!” he begged his brother. “Hmm, in that case have a bath with me later” Asmodeus winked as he walked off. “Ugh, whatever” Mammon grimaced at the idea but relaxed as his brother had left. In seconds, he was back with his arms wrapped around you. “Ugh, way to ruin the mood” Mammon muttered into your hair as he kissed your forehead. “Haha, it’s okay. We should be heading back anyways” you laughed it off as you began to walk back to the party. As the two of you returned, the rest of the guests were already leaving. Asmodeus was humming to himself while giving you a knowing look. Beelzebub looked a bit taken back but didn’t say anything. In his arms was a sleepy Belphegor, latching onto him like a child. “Ew, it’s stupidmammon” Levithan said as he covered his face. “Nobody asked you” Mammon shot back with a glare. But when Levithan looked at you, he blushed. “Ugh! You normies would do something like that!” he shouted as he ran to the car. Satan gave you one look before shaking his head. “____, you could do so much better” he said before leaving the two of you. “What is that supposed to mean?!” Mammon growled. But he didn’t have much time to dwell on it as Lucifer approached you both. His eyes went wide as he looked at you. Then a hard glare set on his face and he looked at Mammon. “I hope you behaved yourself Mammon” he said in a warning tone. “Huh? I was! I didn’t do anything!” Mammon defended. “Oh? Care to explain how ____ got that bite mark?” Lucifer asked with a smirk. You reached up and felt the spot on your neck where Mammon had bit on. The skin was still tender there, he had given you a hickey. “Oh…” you felt a blush bloom on your face. “Uh, I was hungry?” Mammon tried. But Lucifer didn’t look any more convinced. “I’ll see you later, ___, it’s time to go,” Lucifer said as nicely as he could right now. The ride back to the House of Lamentation was quiet on several accounts, mostly because of the hickey. It didn’t help Asmodeus was humming a tune to himself and casually dropping the word sex now and then.

Once the car had stopped, everyone had staggered out, ready to retire to their rooms. Belphegor had woken up and was the only one not sleepy. Leviathan was busy updating his statuses and chatting with his gaming buddies. Asmodeus was already listing off his night routine and Beelzebub had made a beeline for the kitchen. Satan and Lucifer were ahead of the group, ready to wind down alone. Mammon had kept from clinging onto you, much to your surprise. He didn’t say a word as the two of you entered the house. Seeing you off at the stairs, Mammon began heading to his room. You told him goodnight before climbing the stairs to your room. Before you could shut the door, a foot caught between the gap in the doorway. “Mammon?” you called out to him as he slipped into your room. “Let me stay the night! Please!” he dropped onto his knees and began begging you. “Is it because of Lucifer?” you asked. “Yes! I know he is gonna do something! Let me stay the night please?” Mammon repeated his plea to you. A giggle escaped you before you hugged him to your body. “Of course, you can share the bed with me” you agreed. Mammon rose to his feet and hugged you back. “Thanks ____! I love you!” he cheered. “Uh-huh, you already told me” you said playfully as you guided him to the bed. “I’ll say it as many times as you need me to” Mammon grinned as he dropped onto the cushion next to you. He pulled you into his arms and kissed your face. “I love you so much,” he said softly. Sleep began to take you both as tonight had been eventful. “I love you too silly” you murmured into his chest. But Mammon barely heard it as he enveloped your scent and dozed off.

#obey me #mammon x mc #obey me mammon #spicy stories #reader insert

50 notes · View notes

letterfromtrenwith · 5 years

Text

Viva Las Vegas

A Drake/Morwenna Modern AU

Drake & Morwenna do something unexpected

-¦-

"Okay?" Morwenna reached over and squeezed Drake's hand, offering him a reassuring little smile. Doing his best to smile back, Drake rubbed his free hand on the leg of his newly bought suit trousers, shifting on the velvet-covered bench seat.

"Yeah, of course, I'm just...thinking about how Demelza's going to kill me. And Sam. And probably Ross."

"We don't have to do this, you know, we could just go back to the hotel - "

"No! No. This whole thing was my idea, I'm not going to call it off now. Besides, this is what you want, too, isn't it?" He paused. "Isn't it?"

"Yes, you ridiculous man!" Morwenna laughed, and any anxiety Drake might have been feeling instantly drained away. There was a good reason they were here - the reason being that he was head over heels in love with her.

He hadn't exactly planned for this - this holiday was supposed to be just that, a holiday, celebrating a a big commission he'd got, and Morwenna finishing her Master's - but once they'd arrived he hadn't been able to get the idea out of his head. Eventually, after dinner on their second night, he'd snuck down to the hotel's shop, pretending he hadn't packed enough pairs of socks. By the time he got back, Morwenna had fallen asleep on the sofa in their room so it hadn't been quite as romantic as he'd pictured, but the way she'd flung her arms around his neck after he slipped the ring on her finger had made it pretty much perfect nevertheless.

"Demelza can hardly get that upset, can she? I mean, it's not like we're drunk or barely know each other, and she's been dropping some pretty heavy hints about us getting married for a while now..."

"Yes, but I don't think she was imagining us eloping in Vegas!" Drake was quite certain that his sister probably had their wedding already mentally planned down to the last detail. She'd done the same for Sam and Emma, which hadn't exactly slowed the break down of that relationship. He loved his sister very much, but she could a bit overbearing, especially when egged on by Caroline. "Do you think your family will be okay with it?"

"Mum might be a bit upset, but she'll get over it. Elizabeth and George won't mind - George'll probably just be happy he didn't have to pay for anything! Besides, as much as we love them, we can't do this for anybody but ourselves."

"You're right." Before Drake could say anything else, a pair of door opened on the other side of the room. Just inside, he could see honey-coloured wood, and a grey marbled floor covered in white petals. Morwenna's one condition for agreeing to having the wedding here was that they absolutely weren't getting married in some tacky neon coloured place by a man dressed as Elvis, with which Drake agreed wholeheartedly. Luckily, their hotel concierge had managed to get them a cancellation at this place, which was far more elegant than Drake had ever imagined anything in Las Vegas being.

"Drake...Cairne and Morwenna Chy - Chi - help me out here, honey." The Chapel official, a plump, cheerful looking women in her mid 50s with a fantastic bottle blond beehive, gave an apologetic smile.

"Chynoweth." Morwenna replied, slowly, smiling. "And that's us!" She turned to Drake, squeezing his hand again. "You ready?"

"Absolutely."

"Hmmmm." Morwenna squeezed her eyes shut against the bright sunlight, cursing their forgetting to close all the blinds before they went to sleep. Then, she remembered exactly what else they'd had on their minds - and it hadn't just been the free bottle of champagne the hotel had given them as a congratulations. Lifting her left hand, she let the light shine on the rings - the plain white gold band they'd bought at the chapel, and the simple engagement ring with its small but perfectly formed stone. Drake had offered to return that if she didn't like it, but of course he'd managed to find exactly what she'd always wanted. Big flashy rocks weren't her thing.

Married! She could hardly believe it. Although Drake had sort of obliquely dropped hints that he saw marriage in their future Morwenna definitely hadn't expected him to propose on this trip. She hadn't had a single moment's hesitation in accepting, however, and she couldn't believe how happy she was now.

She only hoped their families were happy, too. She'd meant what she said last night about Elizabeth and George probably being cool with it - they themselves had got married as soon as they possibly could back home - and her mum would hopefully not mind too much. She hadn't when Morwenna's sister, Rowella, had run off to Ireland to get married. Having two daughters elope would probably make for a good story at her WI bridge nights. Amelia Chynoweth had never been one for pomp and circumstance, although Morwenna had to admit to a tiny pang at not having her mum with her at her wedding.

It was Drake's family she was more concerned about. Demelza was a lovely woman, and she'd been nothing but kind and friendly to Morwenna, but she'd had a heavy hand in matchmaking them to begin with, and her big sister instinct to well-meaningly meddle in her brother's lives didn't seem to have gone away now they were all adults. Her husband, Ross, was another thing altogether - he'd been cordial enough to Morwenna when he was home, but she sensed that whatever old bad blood there was with Elizabeth and George had coloured his opinion of her somewhat. How he'd feel about being linked to George - who she'd actually once overheard him refer to as his 'worst enemy', which was not a phrase she thought people used nowadays outside of TV shows - by marriage, she wasn't sure. Sam would support them, definitely, even if as a Vicar he might consider a Las Vegas wedding a bit frivolous.

By way of announcement they'd both sent a group text to their respective relatives last night - a picture of them standing under the Chapel's 'Just Married' sign and hanging silver bells, Drake in his quickly bought suit and Morwenna in a short white dress and silver shoes (both of which had counted as her something new, some pretty powder blue underwear purchased behind Drake's back, her grandmother's necklace and a lucky coin from the Chapel's receptionist had done the rest). Then, they'd both turned their phones off and got down to celebrating their first night as man and wife.

"Good morning, Mrs Carne." Morwenna hadn't even noticed that Drake was awake beside her. He propped himself up on one elbow, and grinned down at her, his hair all over the place and eyes still half-sleepy. She felt a matching smile creep over her face just before he leant down and kissed her.

"Good morning, Mr Carne." She replied, when he finally gave her a chance to draw breath. "How are you today?"

"Well, on the one hand, I'm the happiest man in the world." He suddenly reached out and hauled her to him, making her squeak out a surprised laugh. He kissed her quickly again, and then made a face. "On the other hand, I'm a bit apprehensive, because I've got 47 missed calls from Demelza!"

#poldark #drake carne #morwenna chynoweth #morwenna carne #drake x morwenna #drawenna #fic #f: au #f: dm #m: fic #I don't where this even came from but here it is

16 notes · View notes

stevieang · 5 years

Text

Life As You Know It

Pairing: Tony Stark x Fem!Reader Insert, college AU

Word Count: 3500

Warnings: High school clique drama, implied bullying, mean girls, boy/girl best friends, vague reference to death if you look sideways and upside down

Tags: @3dsaunt @andiyholly @averyrogers83 @babybluesunsets @bettercallsabs @brittyevans @brookebarnes @captain-rogers-beard @cecygee @csrfavs @docharleythegeekqueen @dorito-distractions @everythingisoverrated @fabicchi @fandomliane @favhearts @fictivefrolic @flawless-disaster @gifsbysimplysonia @hazeleyedgirl7 @hennessy0274-blog @inumorph @jaguars2007 @jaamesbbarnes @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @janeyboo @joshburtonhellzyess @jouhainak @learisa @lemurian-starship @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @lilylovescomics @linesal @lojo83 @lookwhatyoumademequeue @lostinspace33 @madicardi @magellan-88 @mamapeterson @marvellouslyaveragesblog @me-a-hopeless-romantic @mentalfictionleftmyassbehind @meyoko10 @mindingmyownbusiness @minesig @mizzzpink @naritasamoosa @neverleturheartshow2 @nomadicpixel @ohwhatamessiam @part-time-patronus @patzammit @pinkieandthebrain1 @redqueen1221 @sebbytrash @sixweekcure4dreams @sgtjbuccky @sony-undead18 @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @stark-spangled-banner-man @st-eve-barnes @stillherebiandabitch @sunriserose1023 @suz-123 @the-real-kellymonster @their-bibliophile @tutis24 @ultracolorfulnerdcollection @vinygurl @winterisakiller @winterismyfavoriteseason1945 @winters-beauty @yaykitty3

Summary: You and Tony Stark were best friends, your mothers were best friends, and you were always there for each other. You went to the same high school and attended college in the same town. Maria Stark loved you like her own, and knew that, given the right amount of time and opportunity, more could develop between you and her son. Would the two of you catch on?

A/N: Congratulations to @fanficfaerie for this follower milestone, it is so well deserved! Thank you for creating and running this Disney Song and Quote Challenge, I am sure it is time consuming and taxing in ways I can’t imagine. I appreciate the opportunity to participate, though I’m a tad nervous - I’ve never written Tony Stark before - hope this fits the bill!

Quote: “You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.” Winnie the Pooh

You were fuming. The good-girl, goodie-two-shoes rep that you so carefully cultivated with your teachers had always served you well. It was a complete act, but only your besties had any inkling. Until today, when the meanest of mean girls in your private school learned that you were responsible for a social media post detailing her daily atrocities. Your best friend Tony Stark helped you erase all traces of a digital fingerprint, but somehow, Christine found out and, after enlisting her parents’ help, had your ass hauled to the principal’s office.

As you listened to the adults yelling, lecturing, and threatening, all you could think of was the scene in “The Incredibles” when Dash’s teacher was trying to convince the principal to suspend him for putting a tack on his chair, to no avail. Except in your reality, there was no parent in the room to defend or punish you. Your parents were divorced, your Dad living on the other side of the country and your Mom, a pharmaceutical sales rep for a national company, always on the road. You had a good relationship with both your parents, but they were of the mind that the biggest part of their job was to instill solid moral character and independence from an early age. When you turned 16 and started driving, your mom made good on her plan to prepare you for adulthood. You had to complete all necessary home and school functions, maintain an acceptable GPA, incur no disciplinary problems, and communicate daily with her about the little and big things going on in your life. In exchange, you could come and go as you pleased, and have run of the house when she traveled, which was more often than not. Your living situation was the envy of the school. You weren’t about to do anything to mess it up, but today, it seemed you were on the fast-track to doing just that.

As your mom was out of town, the person they called, your guardian in absentia, was your Mom’s best friend since childhood, Maria Stark. Mrs. Stark was used to being called in to various offices of authority to answer for her son’s behavior, ego, or infractions. Tony started building internal combustion engines when he was 6, so high school was something he could have skipped altogether, but was forced upon him by his mother, to “foster social skills,” and help him get the “traditional teenage experience.” He was smarter than all his teachers and never let an opportunity pass where he could point that out. It was never well received. You two made a great “we don’t fit the mold and we love it” duo.

“Explain to me again why we’re here, sir, because I am at a loss to understand what rule this young lady has broken.” Maria was elegant, sophisticated and, in her own right, a very smart woman. When she asked a question, most likely she knew the answer; she was simply gathering information to support her argument against the unlucky person sitting across from her.

“Mrs. Stark, this young lady used social media to smear and defame the reputation of another student. As the school handbook states, this is grounds for detention and possibly suspension, as well as joint treatment sessions with the school counselor.” You leapt out of your chair, full of righteous teenage anger, intent on storming out. Maria’s hand on your arm and supportive gaze cooled your temper; she wasn’t going to let anyone steamroll you.

The next hour was spent determining what evidence, if any, conclusively linked you to the incident. Turns out, there was none, other than the suspicion of parents who were mortified that their daughter’s abhorrent behavior was now out in the world for anyone to see. You admitted to nothing, and though Christine’s face was chartreuse as the rapidly-growing Twitter feed was read aloud, there was nothing that pointed to you, other than the well-known fact that you hated the girl’s guts. It was the tragically classic scenario of a beautiful popular girl collecting herdmates to make fun of and torture girls like you, someone who didn’t fit nicely in any round holes. You left with a week’s worth of detention for the bogus crime of “lack of adherence to the school’s honor code” and a promise to clear your name when they found out you were innocent. After you filled him in, Tony shared your disbelief, and immediately started plotting.

You and he sat in the backseat while Maria drove home, spending the entire time texting with back and forth about ways to get even with the principal, to continue to make Christine’s life terrible, and to find out who suggested you were responsible.

“Hey, you two. I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I know it’s some kind of revenge plan. I won’t have that, Tony. I will not have you two digging yourself any deeper.”

Tony: My mom knows it was you?

You: I never said a word, but she’s not dumb.

Tony: No she’s not, but do you want to tell her?

You: u think I should?

Tony: I would.

You: You would put up a billboard on the highway to announce you did it. Not a great role model.

Tony: I’ll give you that.

“Ok, Mrs. Stark, no revenge. I promise.” You leaned forward to lay your hand on her shoulder. “Thank you so much for being there today. I’d probably be suspended if you hadn’t been.”

“Yes, you’re right, I’m sure. Let’s forget all this and have some dinner, shall we?”

The Starks employed a chef, but when Mr. Stark was traveling, Maria often chose to cook. Tony ate, but he preferred the company of metal and circuits to people, so he often brought his plate in his room. When you joined them, he was required to come to the table, and Maria always prepared something you both loved to eat. Tonight, it was vegetable and pasta salad with steak and potatoes, accompanied by calm and civilized conversation that focused on things other than what happened earlier in the day. You appreciated not having to rehash the event, again, not being judged. You looked at the mother and son sitting next to you and felt cared for, taken care of. It was nice to not be a grown-up for once.

Tony’s thoughts were multiplying on how to get back at that little bitch Christine and her circle of hags. He looked at you, his best friend, one of the few people in the world that cared about him without reservation or expectations. He looked at you, the girl who stood by him at every step, every failure, every success, who encouraged his work, appreciated his failures, and called him out on his bullshit at every opportunity. Senior year was in full swing and he knew he never wanted to be without you. He also knew your insecurities and that made his heart bend even more, because he had them, too.

Maria looked at you and her son and smiled. Your rapid-fire conversation was smart, witty, and, at times, vulgar, but with an undercurrent of true affection. When she and her best friend delivered what would be their only children within a month of each other, they made a promise to remain a part of each other’s lives. That promise had borne this friendship playing out at her dining room table. Tony looked at you adoringly, and you returned it with a gaze full of laughter and spark, two things that were necessary if you were going to ever be more than friends. Maria knew the ingredients for a great match were already there, all that was needed was time and opportunity, and there would be plenty of both.

Until there wasn’t.

After graduating from high school, you both attended college in Boston; Tony blowing shit up at M.I.T. and you diving head-first into your double-major at Boston College. He was famous before he arrived, but after? He was a magnet for all things flashy, fun, illegal, and new. He was surrounded wherever he went; inundated with phone numbers, obvious invitations to a variety of one-night stands, and so much debauchery and alcohol that the head of campus security told the president of MIT, who then called the big man, Howard. After the browbeating, the only change in his behavior was an improved ability to slide under the radar and avoid trouble. You only found out on the increasingly-rare occasion you texted each other.

You lived in separate apartments, attended different schools, pursued different fields of study. It was natural that you wouldn’t see each other as you once did. You shied away from the big loud crowds that were Tony’s new normal, and he couldn’t understand why you enjoyed spending quiet time with friends that weren’t him. The waning friendship hurt both of you, in ways the other didn’t recognize. Tony sought out the company of an unceasing string of one-night stands and you finally decided to open your heart to guys whose names weren’t always in the paper. Life went on, with a little less spark, less laughter, less heart. The holidays were fast approaching, and this time, they felt different; and not in a good way.

Thanksgiving break was a quick one, spent catching up with family and marshalling your energy to push through finals. For the first time in your memory, you did not want to go to the Stark’s home for the traditional day-after-Thanksgiving dinner, where everybody brought a dish of leftovers, the Stark’s added liquor and pizza, and you caught up for hours. You tried to get out of it, but it was non-negotiable, from your mother’s perspective. You planned on staying away from Tony, kissing Maria and Howard, and coming home with claims of a headache. After the party, the Moms talked and compared notes about how glum their children became at the mention of the other’s name. They each took it upon themselves to plant seeds that would ignite the feelings they knew you had for one another.

“Hey, Stark’s here for you.” You were on your bed, hair up, pencil through the elastic, piles of books and your laptop spread out everywhere. The sigh that escaped did not go unnoticed by the playboy who didn’t bother to wait for an invitation to enter your room.

“I heard that sigh and I resent it. What? No confetti? No nudity? What the hell? When did you turn into a grown-up?” You snorted, knowing this line of questioning was meant to either convince you to do something you didn’t want to, or to help assuage his guilt. “I grace you with my presence on a Friday night and this is what I find? The old lady librarian look?” It didn’t matter to him what you wore, anything you chose made his heart leap, but damned if he was going to let you know that.

Your glasses slipped off as you leaned forward, doubled over in laughter. “Guess so, T. There’s this thing most neurotypical humans do. It’s called “studying,” it’s in every college handbook ever printed, and if I don’t do it, I’m not going to Oxford.” Your undergraduate work had led you to your calling, Cognitive Neuroscience studies. Your entire life’s goal was to gain admission to the Wellcome Trust Doctoral Training Program in Neuroscience at Oxford, which meant every grade counted, every test and paper was important. You had no time to indulge in dinner out, let alone participate in the Unequivocally Unchecked Life of Tony Stark.

His facade fell, a bit, as he sat next to you and gently placed your glasses back on your nose. You immediately pushed them up to avoid his eyes, and pulled loose papers out from under his exceptionally toned butt. Not that you noticed. “C’mon, it’s Friday night, when’s the last time you left this apartment to do something other than study? I told our moms I would check in on you.”

“Ahhhh, so that’s why you’re here, Moms Mandate.” Your disappointment must have been evident, even to the oblivious Tony Stark.

“No. I’m here because I didn’t get to see you over Thanksgiving and I miss hanging out with someone who doesn’t kiss my ass. Though, if you wanted to kiss anything of mine, I would be more than open to that idea.” Tony rarely seemed awkward, he covered it so well with bravado that it took a trained eye to realize that insecurity bubbled close to the surface.

You surprised yourself, and him, when you slowly leaned forward and, at the last minute, kissed his forehead. His expression caused you to cry with laughter, again, as you hopped up and grabbed something to drink. A surge of pride filled you; you had unsettled the unflappable Tony Stark. “You can report back to the Moms that I am fine. Working very hard, achieving excellent grades, exhibiting an appropriate level of safety, enjoying my friends, and unsullied by neither man nor woman.” He sighed and dropped his head in disgust.

“That is the most depressing thing I’ve ever heard. C’mon, you’re coming with me, you are going to experience Boston nightlife and actually live the college dream.” He was clearly thrilled with the idea, but you put the brakes on his party train.

“Thank you for taking on the role of social protectorate, but I can’t. I am not going to engage with you about why and how, I just need you to trust that I cannot go out tonight.” His skepticism didn’t make you waver one bit.

“Ok, then tomorrow night, and I am not taking no for an answer. You are going to get all dolled up and enjoy a breathtakingly irresponsible night on the town. My treat.” Your heart flipped at the invitation, but it didn’t stop you from speaking your mind.

“As enticing as that invitation is, I do not want to be an anonymous member of the Tony Stark entourage. I can find my own fun, thanks.” You stood and opened the door, picking up additional reference materials and returning your attention to the task at hand. “Bye T, thanks for stopping by, say hi to your Mom for me. Please tell her I can’t wait to see her and your Dad at Christmas.”

Tony Stark was unaccustomed to being dismissed. He knew that other than his mother, you were the only person that could do it and cause him to pause and re-evaluate his behavior. As he left, he knew he had to prove to you that he was sincere, that he wanted to hang out with you, help you lighten up, and watch you enjoy yourself. You gasped and looked at him as he gently encircled your waist and hugged you.

“I miss you. I want to spend time with you. Please.” You froze in his arms, unable to process what was going on.

“Sure, T. Text me tomorrow and let me know what’s up. We can meet up somewhere, no problem.” Little did you know that Tony had much more in mind than a simple dinner.

You awoke to a confusing text.

Tony: When you read this, please head to the campus library and ask for the head librarian. She has something for you

You: Ummmmmm, ok?

You’d be lying if you didn’t admit you were a tiny bit fluttery that Tony had taken the time to think about you to this degree. You grabbed a bagel and your protein shake and headed over. You knew the head librarian, Ms. Williams, very well and she smiled upon seeing you.

“One moment, dear. I’ve got something for you.”

Follow this clue to the 8th floor. You will find an old friend waiting in the Children’s Literature section, with your next objective. You complied, searching for the provided shelf number when you arrived at the 8th floor.

You laughed as The Complete Tales of Winnie the Pooh came into view, with a Pooh and honey pot bookmark stuck in the pages. This book was a staple of your childhoods. Your mothers gave each other copies, read the stories to you every night, and your favorite quote was under your senior picture in the high school yearbook. Your excitement grew as you remembered how fun Tony could make the most mundane events. You also wondered how the hell he had time to do all this between last night and this morning.

The bookmark was tucked into the page with the quote, and you smiled at his sweetness. He knew how much it meant to you.

“You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.”

Did you think I could forget these words? They mean as much to me as they do to you. I wanted to remind you of how much you mean to me. There’s a surprise waiting for you at your apartment, where you’ll find the next clue.

You practically sprinted back home, gasping when you saw a beautiful soft yellow dress hanging on your closet door, with an appointment card to a very expensive salon on Newbury Street. You turned the card over and continued to smile - Tony had already paid for whatever you wanted done and had left a tip. He really could be thoughtful when he took the time.

It was early December, so you bundled up before heading out to your appointment. When you left, you could not believe the transformation.

You: Thanks Tony, I can’t believe you did all this.

Tony: For you? Of course. I’ll be by at 8pm. Can’t wait to see you.

That felt different. Your insides squished and squirmed - whether it was excitement or nerves, you weren’t sure. You dressed, beautified, and waited.

Tony: I hope you’re ready, beautiful. On my way.

Geez, he was laying it on thick. You laughed when he pulled up to your building in a regular old car he must have borrowed from someone’s father and jumped out to open your door. You had no idea why he would not drive one of his ridiculously flashy fleet. You were a huge Madonna fan in your younger years, and this struck you as the plot of her “Material Girl” video; was he trying to impress you by thinking he was just as “regular” as you were? Tony could never be described as “regular” or “average,” even if he didn’t have a dollar to his name.

Tony never really stopped. He momentarily paused, he changed his focus, but his brain, his body, his mouth were always in high gear. So when he got out of the car and saw you, it was a wholly different feeling. He had never seen you look so beautiful - the dress wrapped within your white winter coat, your cheeks pink from the cold, your hair beautifully styled. He hadn’t realized how long your hair had gotten and how much it changed your entire appearance.

“You look stunning. I did a very good job picking this out, didn’t I?” Now this was your best friend.

“Yes, Tony, you did an amazing job. I loved the clues, loved the book, loved everything. It made me realize how much I missed you.” You turned to him and asked him to stop. “How much I missed the real Tony Stark.” His eyes closed as you softly kissed his cheek and let your hand land on his.

“C’mon, time for me to show you off and ply you with insanely expensive drinks.” He kept his promise. The night was fun, like old times, but prettier and with alcohol. You talked about everything and nothing, filling each other in, sharing your hurts and stories and plans, and reveling in each other’s company. Neither of you wanted the night to end, so you invited him to your apartment for a nightcap. You were shocked when he refused.

“No thanks, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Your eyes questioned and he saw the sting of rejection. He looked at you, held your hands, and pecked your lips with his. You stepped back, stunned. “You have no idea how much I want to, but I want to earn you, and I haven’t yet.”

“What does that mean? What are you trying to earn?”

“Someone I don’t deserve. You.” With another soft peck on the cheek, he was gone.

In the weeks leading up to Christmas break, you wondered if that night was a dream. You and Tony awkwardly texted a bit, but didn’t see much of each other in the mad rush of finals. After handing in your last project and dragging yourself to your apartment to make up as much lost sleep as possible, you were stunned out of your stupor by the sight of Tony waiting in front of your door.

“You’re done, right?” His tired smile mirrored your own.

“Yes, thank the Lord in Heaven and every deity known to modern man.”

“Good. I wanted to show you something I’ve been working on.” He stood and took out his phone, ready to press play when you put your hand over his.

“Tony can we go inside so I can sit down and maybe sleep for 2 days?” He barely heard you, his nerves clearly a distraction, but he nodded and sat next to you, relaxing when you lay your head on his shoulder.

He apologized for leaving you hanging since your night out, for not paying enough attention to you, for not showing you how much you meant to him. “My mom also slapped me once or twice to drive the point home that I’ve been a douchebag. I’m sorry.” He cued up the video on his phone and played it. The introduction included the theme song to the “Winnie the Pooh” movie and cut to your favorite quote. He took your silence for awe, then realized you were sleeping soundly.

As he tucked a blanket around you and kissed your forehead, he whispered, “You are the reason I am braver and stronger, and that’s because you’re smarter. I hope you hear me because I can’t imagine saying it out loud again.” You smiled to yourself as you snuggled under your covers and drifted off to sleep.

The End

#disneyquotechallenge #fanficfaeriechallenge #thank you #stevieang #tony stark #marvel au #best friends #fem reader #winnie the pooh

107 notes · View notes

alittleroseandhoneyblog-blog · 5 years

Text

Sticks and Stones

A comment left on one of my photos!*

Let’s start this by simply saying Thank you!

Thank you for taking the time to comment on one of my photos – thank you for providing your opinion on a topic that we as women face on a daily basis – I want you to know that when you attacked my body, you did not effect me in a negative way – you did not discolor my self esteem, you did not hurt me (as I have been through far worse) and you certainly did not make me think any less of myself– in fact you empowered me.

You’ve made me stronger, so thank you!

In many ways you are right, your opinion is exactly that – but it’s your form of “fit” that I do not fit into – not mine (or those who love me) You see, this whole industry is in the eye of the beholder – it’s what we choose to get out of the process that matters, it’s all indifferent and perhaps if you removed your rose-colored glasses you would see beauty in all the different shapes and sizes the human body comes in rather then taunting those around you for not having your form of fit.

Those comments set us back, they linger and are a leading cause of so much self doubt and self sabotage and that conversation needs to change, you cannot be teaching children that – in fact, you should be educating yourself because YOUR perception of what “FIT” is needs to change.

FIT is defined as

“in good health”

……especially because of regular physical exercise.

Well, that sounds like me…I mean

I have climbed the CN tower stairs, twice – all 1,776 of them.

I dance, every day for upwards of an hour or two

I lift weights every day

I fuel my body properly; I do not diet or restrict what foods I put into my body (because I am human)

So contrary to an unsolicited opinion on MY body…I AM FIT and here’s the thing- YOU (whoever you were) don’t get to decide –

I have moved past that way of thinking – and I invite you to as well!

I am not an expert. I do not have a flashy background it fitness, I am not a trainer or a nutritionist – but what I do have is life experience, I’ve been through trauma (that I am still healing from) I have demons that I have been so ashamed to face until recently because of fear of judgement from not only strangers but from people who frequent my table. The truth is none of this is easy to talk about, no one wants to stand up and talk about their body in a negative way, or relive their toxic relationships no one wants to risk appearing weak when there is already so much judgment out there, but guess what, we all have pasts, we all have gone through something that has lead us to be who we are today and just because someone has a similar story and lived through similar situations (and survived) doesn’t mean that your story is any less validated, it doesn’t make the experience any less traumatic or hard and it certainly doesn’t mean that you don’t have the right to tell it – we tell our stories in hopes that it helps someone so that it shows that we can go through dark times and still rise – we should be encouraging people to read their chapters out loud instead of claiming rights to something that many of us have faced whether its disordered eating, body image, mental health, self sabotage, relationships…and so much more.

My first ever heartbreak had a lot to do with my weight at 21 … I will never forget how I watched a man that I loved fall out of love with me as the number on the scale went up. I was insecure about it but we never talked about it - I never asked the right questions I never asked if he was still attracted to me (as he gained the same “happy” weight I did) I didn’t ask if he was falling out of love with me but up until that point I never struggled with my body image and I believed that the number on the scale didn’t define me – but the truth is, it DID (in my own mind at least) – and in the end he broke up with me. Truthfully, I can pinpoint that to exactly when my negative relationship with my body started. B and I ate out a lot and If we weren’t eating out then I was cooking big meals that were greasy and with portion sizes that were out of control, I thought food solved everything. I gained about 30 “happy pounds” and hit my second puberty. My hips went up 5 sizes, my boobs were out of control and I didn’t recognize the girl I saw in the mirror anymore.

Dating as a chubby girl was seriously depressing so much so that I tried online dating (I know, save the judgment for later) I remember only using pictures of my face and avoiding anything that showed my body – and I ended up meeting this guy and after a few days of us texting we went for a movie (we had a wonderful time and he seemed really into me) but unfortunately on the ride home he pulled over 3 times and PULLED IT OUT…(I am not joking and there is a whole other story to this) anyways – I declined – politely (3 times, once with tears lol) I could tell that his ego was a little hurt. Shortly after he dropped me off at home I got a message from him that said… “you know you’re a lot bigger in person” as if that was the reason he wasn’t going to see me again - (not that he was a total pig) but honestly I was shocked and so embarrassed that someone openly commented on my weight (that wasn’t my grandma) and I wont lie It really hurt my feelings, but I politely reminded him that the weight was something I could easily work off, but he was stuck with a small dick for the rest of his life (lol) and so we never spoke again (until he came across my social media last year and has been creeping ever since!!)

The truth is in that moment I became so desperate to have my old body back - to be able to fit into my old pair of jeans (the “before” him jeans) that I started skipping meals – I lied to my loved ones about what I was putting in my body - I ended up in the hospital - multiple times with stomach pain and exhaustion - I took a leave of absence from work because I was too sick to even get out of bed.

I DID THAT - I starved my body and all I can remember thinking at the time was that it worked, I lost the weight as if it was some miracle. It didn’t change anything- I was still sad, I was still skipping meals and I knew that mentally I was not in a good place and it didn’t help that 6 months after the break up that spiraled all those negative feelings just announced he was getting married. This went on for about a year, where I struggled with disordered eating and my body image - I met matt, at my thinnest and I maintained that as long as I could - fast forward to pregnancy (which turned out the be incredibly unhealthy) I was still starving my body, its really the only pattern I knew and I continued to watch my weight, I didn’t want a repeat of what happened with B, So I limited my calorie intake – But once I realized what I was doing I started eating smaller meals more often, then the portions became larger, and within a few weeks I went from not eating the foods I wanted to eating everything in sight. I would over-eat…and then eat and then eat some more…and in 3 months I gained almost 40lbs (60lbs my total pregnancy), went borderline Diabetic and ended up having a premature birth at 7 months followed by my gallbladder being removed shortly after- great experience, right!

My mentality at that time was “Well my body is changing anyways, may as well enjoy it…”

Or “I’ve already gained this much weight, what’s another few pounds….”

WRONG, wrong, wrong WRONG - that is not a healthy mentality at all and again is a part of that self sabotaging culture that we as women live in.

I wasn’t surprised that 5 years later I still owned 95% of that “baby weight”, I knew I needed to get serious – I put blinders on when it came to my health I was overweight, I was lazy and I lacked motivation to work out and it wasn’t until about a year ago that I actually committed to something that worked for me… (did you catch that… “something that worked for me”, because everyone is different ) Anyways- It certainly didn’t happen overnight, and I had to overcome a lot of personal demons that ended up being bigger then just a negative body image - I had to get raw and admit that in some situations I was the toxic person – that I allowed my circumstances and for that I carried so much guilt.

The point is!

As human beings we need to learn to co-exsist with all of our demons whether its food, weight or body shape or even our mental health – we need to be as patient with ourselves as we are others, mindful of our own feelings, our own needs and we need to cultivate in them. This is why this conversation is so important to me – why I choose to address certain things, why my social media is public- no one but me has the right to narrate my story and so the best I can do is live well, without fear of judgment, comfortable in my skin, in my decisions

- Although I am as open as I can be, I choose to be very conscious about what I post on social media (for a few reasons) - One is simple, my husband has to approve of the content being posted. Out of respect and love for that man who has supported me unconditionally throughout this process, regardless of being 1000% confident in my “now” body, he prefers some things to stay private (in which I totally agree) but the other is because there are people (no scratch that) women out there whose “dream body” is my “then” body – and the words I use to describe how I felt in my own skin during that time can damage someone else’s perception of their dream body, it can become discouraging – But understand this, I know now that my body was actually never the problem. That additional weight I carried, was beautiful. I admit there have been things that I have been insecure about, yes but that was society making me believe that my body didn’t look right, that was social media and marketing saying you are only worthy of real love at a 120lb and everything else is unlovable. That was my own self sabotage that made me believe I wasn’t good enough as is and so I went to drastic measures to try and comply to what society told me beautiful should be and throughout this entire process I wish I would have told myself sooner that being a size 12 did not change my banging personality or my sense of humour and being a size 8 didn’t change my heart, or how I viewed the world and being a size 4 now doesn’t make me any better of a person then I was 10 years ago when I felt my worth was dictated by the number on the scale. I have had to accept that not everyone will see “fit” the same way I do and unfortunately because I have decided to put my life on social media the way I do, I have opened a window for others to form that opinion of me, I have allowed them judge me, to be passive towards me or to even question my character and in some cases those opinions will be voiced but I welcome them and if by chance you are that person who wants to dim my light know this you can’t break me - I am 10000% comfortable and confident in who I am – Broken past, Belly fat, cellulite, saggy boobs and all (Lol)

I will end with this, I will not apologize for “showing off” as I have earned the right to – I will not apologize for over coming the two worst relationships I’ve ever had and will ever have in my life (food and my self worth) – I will not apologize for being my own version of fit even if it doesn’t align with yours and I certainly will not apologize for being who I am.

As far as I am concerned, as long as you are not harming others in any way, live unapologetically in all you do. You don’t need validation from anyone or anything!

#fitness

3 notes · View notes

imthecaretaker · 6 years

Text

Here’s the first half of a writing thing!

This started as a post from @pockette-sized, about a tiny person playing jazz. And I said that it sounded like a neat idea, and I would try working on it. But I couldn’t make any promises on when I would get it done because I’m a procrastinating gremlin.

At long last, I have the first half done, and wanted to share it! I’m (slowly) working on the second half now. So, without further ado, here it is!

Jazz Night at the Silver Dome. Jack was equal parts excited, and nervous. He had no idea how well-received it would be. The Silver Dome was known for hosting several live musicians, a few of whom had gone on to great things, but none of them played jazz. They had all been country, or classic rock. This neighborhood wasn't really known for its interest in swing music. But, the announcements had been made, the posters printed, the music booked. It was now or never, do or die. As Jack motored down the road, making his way toward the dance hall, a beam of light shining into the sky caught his eye. He leaned forward to look up through the windshield. Sure enough, there was the beam of a spotlight, slowly waving back and forth, seeming to originate from the direction of the Silver Dome. Jack smiled and picked up a bit of speed. He was a little more excited now. His phone buzzed, and he glanced at the screen. It was his girlfriend, Lindsay. At the bar. Catch u inside? He smiled and texted back, not taking his eye off the road. No question, babe. Jack knew texting and driving was a bad habit, but he couldn't keep pulling over to answer messages. He was a man with things to do, so in his mind, this habit was born of necessity. Kk. Won't have fone til later. Love u hun. Lindsay signed off. She would be busy for the next couple of hours, at least. As Jack rounded the last corner, his jaw nearly dropped into his lap. The hall's parking lot was full, along with a decent string of cars parked on the road! He wasn't sure all these people would even fit inside! He slowly piloted his car down the line of parked cars and stopped in the first open spot he could find. Making sure it was locked, he jogged back up the road toward the Silver Dome. As he got closer, he met more and more people making their way to the hall. There were men dressed in dapper suits, and women in flashy dresses, sporting pearls and feathers in their hair. The Roaring Twenties appeared to be alive and well here, to Jack's immense surprise. He reached the end of the admission line, and sighed, ready to resign himself to waiting and missing the start of the show, when the Dome's owner's husband Todd Draper noticed him. "Jack Connor!" he smiled, ushering Jack ahead. "You're not waiting out here! Get your carcass inside! I refuse to let you miss the special show tonight!" Jack grinned sheepishly at the waiting patrons, mumbling apologies as he walked quickly by, until he got to the door. 'Big John' Masterson stood before him, as impressive and formidable as a mountain. At 6' 9", he was a veritable giant. John peered down at 5'8" Jack. "Password," he grunted. "Let me in, dickhead," Jack said, staring back up at the giant. There was no password for employees, and John knew that. "Good enough," John smirked slightly, before stepping aside and letting Jack pass. "When you see Lindsay, say hi for us, please?" The giant's features softened. He greatly enjoyed whenever Lindsay came by, as did the rest of the employees and patrons, but his position as bouncer often kept him from meeting Lindsay properly. "Will do, John. We'll make sure to come out here and say hi." Jack promised, and ducked inside.

#g/t #writing #jazz #first of two

11 notes · View notes

paintedrecs · 7 years

Text

302, I Love You

[Read on AO3]

It was a beautiful summer morning—mid-70s with a light breeze, ideal weather for soaking up the sun without fear of overheating. If anyone asked, that was why Stiles was sitting on his balcony with a book he hadn’t touched in the last half hour and a mug of coffee he’d been absently sipping from, his gaze fixed on the parking lot several stories below.

Coincidentally, one of his neighbors—Hot Dude From 302, not that it was relevant—had chosen the same morning to wash his stupidly flashy Camaro. Stiles wasn’t watching him. He was sitting on his balcony, which happened to face the back parking lot, and Hot Dude happened to be in his general line of sight. And anyway, if he had been watching him, it was only to document the details of his flagrant lease-breaking activities, in case Stiles decided to file a complaint with their landlord.

Washing vehicles in their parking lot was explicitly against the rules, along with smoking, loud parties after 11 PM, and leaving trash bags in the hallway for people to potentially trip over, rather than dragging them all the way to the dumpsters—which were also located in their parking area.

If pressed, Stiles might admit that he’d broken the latter two rules once or twice. And that there might be an overstuffed trash bag sitting in the hallway at this very moment—deposited there because the smell had started to bug him, but not enough to motivate him to put on shoes and non-pj pants and make the trek downstairs. But that was more like rule-bending. It wasn’t an egregious violation like the unnecessarily thorough car washing that took place every Saturday, like clockwork.

Obviously this guy wasn’t originally from California, or he’d know how important water conservation was, and how much his utterly unacceptable behavior made everyone else in the building grind their teeth. Beacon Hills was in the middle of a fucking drought. And there 302 was, spraying water not only over the car’s sleek black surface, but over himself, too, making his loose shorts cling to his thighs, his already too-tight white tank top plastering against his chest and abs.

What was the point of even wearing a shirt to begin with if he was just going to get it soaked through every time, leaving the fabric offensively sheer?

“So you want him to take his shirt off for you,” Stiles's supposed best friend Scott said, kicking his feet up on the railing and crunching through a handful of pretzels.

“Shut up!” Stiles hissed. He instinctively tried to duck down in his lounge chair—as if that would accomplish anything—but 302 didn’t seem to have heard the exchange. He was too busy stretching across the hood, his back to them, the fabric of his wet shorts leaving little to Stiles’s admittedly very active imagination.

“You’re drooling,” Scott said. “This is kinda gross. I thought we were gonna be watching cartoons, not this guy’s ass.”

Stiles spluttered indignantly, then, when Scott motioned at his face, wiped away the possibly-drool from his chin. That happened sometimes when he was tired, okay? He hadn’t had enough of his coffee yet this morning. “I’m judging him,” he insisted. He firmly shut his mouth and twisted it into his most convincingly judgmental face.

“Judging whether you can get into his pants,” Scott said.

“Judging him for...not knowing how to use his hose,” Stiles countered, scrambling for a reasonable comeback.

Scott was, thankfully, silent for a bit. He popped more pretzels into his mouth and chewed while staring at Stiles meaningfully. Eventually, he concluded, “So you wanna teach him how to use his hose.”

302 suddenly swore loudly from down below, and Stiles jerked in his chair, nearly knocking his coffee—and himself—over. Once he’d made sure his mug and limbs were safe, he leaned forward to see what had happened.

Point proved, really. 302 had somehow sprayed himself right in the face with the hose, which required a special sort of uncoordinated talent that even Stiles didn’t possess. Scott was right; the guy clearly did need some hose-handling lessons. He was dripping wet, his dark hair flattened, leaving it almost as shiny and black as his car. Even from this distance, Stiles could see the water streaming off the sharp cut off his cheekbones.

Despite all that, the idiot hadn’t shut the hose off —he was just standing there, frozen in place, holding it as water arced into the air, the spray catching the sunlight in a miniature, shimmering rainbow.

He looked absolutely pitiful. Stiles almost felt bad for him. At the same time, though: “You remember that fountain by the library?”

Scott nodded. Of course he did. It’d been major drama when they were starting middle school; the local PTA had campaigned to have it torn out, claiming it was “inappropriate” for a public building to house a lifesize reproduction of The Birth of Venus. The sculptor’s argument—that it was a classic work of art that could be found in multiple books within the library itself—eventually toppled under the ire of parents with too much time on their hands.

Stiles had mourned its loss, taking art classes throughout high school with the vague idea of using his inevitable fame to battle similarly misguided attempts at censorship. As it turned out, he had no artistic skill, and he’d gradually found better channels for his righteous indignation. He was wondering now, though, if his bisexual awakening would’ve happened sooner if Venus had been replaced by something like...Eros. Or by a recreation of the tableau currently spread out below him. He would’ve spent a lot of time studying by that fountain during his teenage years.

“I should take the trash out,” he decided abruptly.

Scott moved his legs so Stiles could clamber over him and back into his studio’s compact living room. “So I should just go home, then?” he called after Stiles.

Stiles was too busy pulling on presentable pants, twisting in front of the mirror, then switching to his tighter jeans, to reply. He was cramming his feet into his shoes when Scott came inside.

“You might as well take this,” Scott said, shaking the now-empty bag of pretzels in front of Stiles’s face. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“You don’t have to leave,” Stiles grunted, tying off his shoelaces and grabbing the crinkly bag as he stood.

“I really think I do,” Scott said. “Good luck. Please don’t text me any details.”

“I’m not going to hit on him,” Stiles grumbled after Scott rudely slammed the door on his way out. He wasn’t. Mostly because his knowledge of 302 boiled down to a few key facts:

- Overcompensating (that car, c’mon) - Environmentally unfriendly - Antisocial (Stiles had never seen him interacting with anyone, and the majority of their neighbors were annoyingly friendly; most of them had shown up, uninvited, to his last after-11 PM party. Which Stiles had definitely not thrown hoping that 302 would be among the attendees. He’d only posted the sign by the mailboxes as a courtesy notice, not an invitation. Technically.)

Perhaps most importantly, according to those same mailboxes, 302 was living with someone named “Laura Hale.” It was the only name listed, and although Stiles had snooped on the various packages that were too big to fit inside, he hadn’t managed to uncover any additional details. He had lurked in the entryway for long enough to see a beautiful dark-haired woman collect one of those boxes, which had smashed the final hope he’d deny he’d been harboring.

Expecting a guy like that to not have an equally hot girlfriend to ferry around in his douchey car? Dream on, Stiles.

He attempted to crumple the pretzel remnants—something he’d been planning to eat himself, thanks a lot Scott—into the trash bag, which only resulted in squeezing out a mess of banana peels and coffee-stained paper towels. Okay, maybe that rule existed for a reason, too. He sighed, wiped his hands off on his jeans, and heaved the bag up, beginning the trudge down to the garbage bins.

Once outside the building, Stiles stepped gingerly over the sudsy water snaking along the pavement, thumped the dumpster lid loudly enough to announce his presence, then oh-so-casually headed over to check on his Jeep, which was parked two spaces away from 302’s current location. Their building had unassigned spots—too few for the number of residents, leaving the rest to park out on the street. That created a headache sometimes, but it’d allowed Stiles—after some careful planning and light bribery—to set up this accidental meeting.

302 glanced at Stiles when he passed by, then fumbled his hose, spraying himself again.

“Wow,” Stiles said, attempting to hop out of the way, grimacing when that movement sent him splashing right into a puddle. “You have a serious problem, dude.”

“Sorry,” 302 said, in a soft voice that Stiles could barely hear over the water’s relentlessly wasteful flow. Now that Stiles was closer to his elusive neighbor, he was able to see the red shading those marble-carved cheekbones; he’d probably been out in the sun for too long, considering himself too manly to reapply sunscreen.

The thought brought back a sudden flash of memory: an afternoon in late summer; a sprinkler hissing in circles as Stiles jumped through the cool, stinging spray; a dark-haired boy laughing, the silver glint of his braces catching the sun as Stiles tried to flick water in his direction, convincing him to join the fun. Stiles’s mom had come outside then, tsking at him in feigned disapproval, then calling them both over for a fresh coating of smelly, sticky sunscreen that Stiles would immediately do his best to wash off.

Scott, Stiles thought, then: No. He hadn’t moved to Beacon Hills yet. That was when Stiles was younger, when his best friend was a quiet boy who’d always said—despite Stiles’s constant attempts to get him into trouble—that the Stilinski household was a lot more peaceful than his. He’d liked Stiles’s mom’s cookies, his dad’s stories about work, and—Stiles liked to think, anyway—Stiles’s magnetic personality.

“Derek,” he said aloud, and 302 jumped.

“What?”

“Sorry, I was just—” Stiles shook his head. Why was he thinking of Derek now? The guy had moved away ages ago. They’d exchanged letters for a few months, then Scott had moved to town, Stiles had started spending a lot more time noticing girls, and the letters had stopped.

302 was still staring at him, his multicolored—mostly green?—eyes wide. Looking at him for too long was making Stiles feel weird, like there was something pressing at the back of his mind that he couldn’t quite grasp.

“You should be wearing sunglasses,” Stiles said stupidly. The bright light reflecting off the pavement was making him squint, and he’d been out there for less than five minutes.

“You’re not,” 302 said.

“My eyes are darker; more melanin means better protection,” Stiles automatically countered—it was an argument he’d often used as a know-it-all kid who didn’t want to stop playing outside—then tried to restrain his wince. He was being obvious. You didn’t start out a totally innocent conversation with a hot stranger by talking about his eye color, for fuck’s sake.

But 302 smiled. He had front teeth that were a little too big for his mouth—something that he might’ve been teased about when he was younger, because he immediately ducked his head and rolled his lips together, pressing them into a line that didn’t hide the equally endearing dimples in his cheeks.

Damn, Stiles thought. The guy was supposed to be kind of a dick. Not...this. Maybe he avoided hanging out with over-friendly neighbors because he was shy? Stiles had to mentally readjust his entire battle plan, which had mostly involved snarky commentary and a few clever innuendoes designed to test whether he really was taken.

“I was gonna ask you to wash my car,” Stiles said, plunging after his first thought, but unable to resist a slight dig. “While you’re wasting all that water.”

“Oh,” 302 said. His smile dimmed; even the curve of the hose seemed dejected suddenly. He released his tight grip on the spray attachment, the noise in the parking lot fading to the hum of bees in the hedge next door and the metallic creak of swings from the playground down the street. “I guess I could. It’s the Jeep, right?”

“Um,” Stiles said. “Yes. How did you know that?”

302 slid his hand down the hose, like he was planning to start rolling it back up, even though there were still suds on the Camaro’s roof. “It looks like your mom’s,” he said. “I remember you always used to say you wanted a car just like it, once you found out ordinary citizens couldn’t get Batmobiles.”

“How the—” Stiles stared at him. This was new. He hadn’t had a stalker before; at least, not that he’d known.

302 met his gaze for a few seconds, then looked away, his mouth twisting—in disappointment, weirdly, if Stiles was reading that expression correctly. “You don’t remember me, do you.”

“Should I?” Stiles asked. Maybe he’d hooked up with the guy and forgotten him, but that seemed incredibly unlikely. He’d remember a jawline like that. And why the hell would they have spent the night talking about Stiles’s childhood? He didn’t get that personal in relationships until...well, he’d always figured he’d start digging into the really gritty stuff at about the year marker, and no one had ever lasted that long.

“I guess not,” 302 said. “It’s been a long time. Laura said you wouldn’t and that I should get over myself and be the first one to say something. I was trying to work up the nerve, but then, just now, when you...”

He trailed off, so Stiles repeated it. “When I what?”

“When you said my name,” 302 said. “I...didn’t imagine that, did I?”

Stiles looked at him again, like he was seeing him for the first time. That’s what he’d thought this encounter was, but...he traced his gaze over the guy’s inky black hair, drying in the sunlight and beginning to wave slightly at the tips; the delicate curves of his ears, which somehow seemed a little smaller than they should be; the unusual color of his eyes.

“Derek,” Stiles said slowly, pulling that memory back to the forefront, the hazy image of his friend overlaying 302’s features. He had to make significant adjustments for puberty and an apparent explosion of late-blooming attractiveness, but: “Hale. Oh my god. Laura’s your sister. The scary older one you never wanted us to hang out with. How did I not make that connection?”

“It’s a common name,” Derek said. “Not like Stilinski. It was a lot easier for me to connect the dots.”

“Goddamn,” Stiles said. “Good thing my dad talked me out of joining the force. I would’ve been a shitty detective.”

“I doubt that,” Derek said, as generous as he’d been when they were kids. He had so many of the same mannerisms, now that Stiles was paying attention. “I look a little different than I used to.”

Stiles snorted before he could consider whether that was rude. That brought up a sudden, unsettling thought. “Wait, does that mean I don’t?”

As a kid, Stiles had been 80% eyes and mouth, and always a head shorter than the other boys his age. He’d hit his growth spurt late in high school, then shot up to six feet during college, but if his face was still that recognizable...

Derek was shaking his head. “I told you, I saw your name. A few weeks after we moved in.” He hesitated, then added, “But I think I would’ve recognized you anyway. You’ve changed, but there’s something...”

“Yeah,” Stiles said. He felt it, too. He’d first seen Derek about a month ago—or so he’d thought at the time—and had nearly been bowled over by the degree of instantaneous attraction. It wasn’t just the physical part, although that was undeniable. It was the sense that something about Derek felt right. Familiar, almost. He’d thought stupid things, like maybe soulmates weren’t as outlandish as he’d always assumed. Turned out all it’d meant was that some part of his brain was still connected to those old memories of Derek.

He tried not to let the disappointment wash over him. This was cool, too. It’d be fun to reconnect, to revisit the old times, like: he flushed suddenly, another long-forgotten image drifting out of the past. He touched his lips without thinking, remembering the dry press of Derek’s mouth against his, the brilliant green of his eyes as he pulled back, mouth still parted, looking terrified that Stiles would laugh at him.

“I just...wanted to try that. Before...” Derek had said. Then, before Stiles had any time to react or process it, Derek had revealed that his family was leaving town. He was gone the next week.

The red along Derek’s cheekbones was darkening. So he remembered it, too. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to make you think...” He started to turn away, coiling the hose in abrupt, jerky movements, like he was trying to figure out the fastest way to clear out of there. Just like he’d done after the kiss, dashing off, claiming he had to start packing.

“That last letter you wrote me,” Stiles said. Derek stopped, his back to him, shoulders tensed. “I didn’t reply. I’m sorry. I was a stupid kid; I didn’t know what to say.”

“I never knew if you’d stopped talking to me intentionally,” Derek said. “I tried a couple times, and then I figured if you wanted to get in touch again, you would.”

And Stiles never had. At first, it really had been that he was busy; middle school had seemed like the most exciting and terrifying thing in the entire world, and trying to navigate its treacherous waters while keeping Derek updated had proved too difficult to maintain. Then that third unanswered letter—the last one Derek had written—had arrived. Stiles didn't remember much of it. But he could still see its closing line, a shaky scrawl that looked like it'd been added at the last minute.

I’m sorry I made things weird.

The kiss had made Stiles feel weird, in a way he hadn’t been able to articulate. It’d taken a few more years before he’d really understood why, and by then, Derek was a distant memory. By the looks of it, the reverse hadn’t been true.

“I used to wonder why you did it,” Stiles said.

Derek finished putting the hose back, twisted the water off and removed the nozzle, then finally turned back around. “Why I kissed you? Or why I wrote you that stupid letter?”

Stiles touched his mouth again, watching as Derek’s gaze followed the movement. Things were a lot different now than they were back then. Odd lingering connection or not, they’d both grown into entirely different people. “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t really need an answer to either.”

“So what’s your real question?”

“I liked you back then,” Stiles said. “A lot. I hated that you left me, right when everything started getting really big and confusing. I know you couldn’t help it, but every time I wrote you, it reminded me that you weren’t around anymore.”

Derek’s lips flattened a bit. He nodded, slowly. “So it was easier to let it go.”

“I don’t think it’d ever be easy to let you go,” Stiles said.

Derek’s mouth parted, his eyes searching Stiles’s.

“My question is,” Stiles said, taking a couple steps forward, then grimacing when that sent his sneaker splashing through one of Derek’s puddles.

“Sorry,” Derek said, but Stiles was already squelching the rest of the way over to him.

“So much for the seductive walk,” he said, close enough now for this to all go horribly wrong.

Derek hesitantly reached out, setting his hands on Stiles’s hips, then tightening his grip when Stiles reacted by leaning closer. “I remember the fountain, too.”

“The—shit, you heard that?”

“You’re pretty loud,” Derek said. “And hard to ignore.”

From most people, that might’ve seemed like an insult. The way Derek was looking at him, though, it felt like one of the nicer compliments Stiles had ever received.

“You weren’t here, though,” Stiles objected. “I remember, because that was the longest letter I wrote you. I think I transcribed half the town hall debate—the part I got to hear before my dad found me and kicked me out.”

“I remember,” Derek repeated, then cleared his throat. “I still have the drawing you sent.”

Stiles paused, his hands halfway up Derek’s chest—thick hair visible through the sheer fabric, as he’d guessed from his earlier vantage point—to his bare shoulders, which he’d been aching to touch for the last hour. The last month, if he was being honest. “Oh, the one of the fountain? God, I can’t believe you kept that. It’s gotta be barely recognizable.”

“I liked it,” Derek said. “It made me feel like I was there with you.”

It was strange to look into eyes this familiar, belonging to someone Stiles hardly knew anymore. He slipped a finger under the strap of Derek’s still-damp tank top, testing to see if it was as absurdly tight as he’d thought. There really was no point to him wearing this flimsy excuse for a shirt.

“You never asked your question,” Derek said.

“Right,” Stiles said. He had a lot of them, too numerous to delve into now. When Derek decided to move back, had he known Stiles was still around? Why had he returned? Was it for Laura, or was it his decision? And why had he ended up with a wet dream of a car, when he’d always been the practical one in their friendship?

For now, though, only one was pressing enough to ask. “Do you think it’s too late?”

“For what?” Derek asked.

“To try again.”

The first touch of Derek’s lips was hesitant, like it’d been all those years before. It was his answer—but a question, too, begun more than a decade ago.

This time, Stiles knew exactly how to respond.

“Okay,” he said after a while, setting a hand back on Derek’s chest but letting him chase his mouth for a few more lip-tingling moments. “You’ve gotten a lot better at that.”

“I should hope so,” Derek said, with a throaty chuckle that made Stiles feel warm all over.

“We should move out of the parking lot,” Stiles said reluctantly. “I’m not the only one with a balcony. And you should probably do something with your ridiculous car before anyone needs to back out of their spaces.”

“Not my car,” Derek said. He tangled his fingers with Stiles’s, dropping a very distracting kiss onto the tip of his nose.

“Not your—yes it is. You wash it every damn weekend.”

“It’s Laura’s,” Derek said. “I have a Camry. You probably haven’t seen it; Laura makes me park it out on the street so hers doesn’t get scratched.”

Stiles stared at him, processing that information. “Let me guess; she also makes you wash it for her?”

“It’s a trade-off,” Derek said. “She hates handling all the grocery shopping and apartment cleaning when I’m on shift, but she said she’d stop complaining if I spent an hour out here every Saturday. She claimed she was the one doing me a favor, but I haven’t been so sure about that.”

“She might’ve been right,” Stiles said, wondering if everyone in the building—everyone but Derek—had been watching this whole thing unfold. “Wait, what kind of shifts do you work? Are you at the hospital?”

Derek cleared his throat again, looking oddly embarrassed. “No, I uh. I’m at the station. I work with your dad now. He makes a pretty great Sheriff.”

“Deputy Derek Hale,” Stiles said. That part really shouldn’t have come as a surprise; Derek had always been the one hanging off stories from the station. While Stiles snooped around in his dad’s files, dreaming up exciting new criminal-catching methods, Derek had stayed by the then-deputy’s side, asking boring questions about procedure and policy. “For fuck’s sake. I can’t believe my dad didn’t tell me you were back.”

Derek’s cheekbones took on that pink tint again. “He said he, uh. Doesn’t like getting involved in your romantic life anymore. But that if we ever did figure things out, he wanted us to both come over for dinner.”

“Well,” Stiles said. “Then I guess we should get back to figuring things out.”

It took 207’s extended, irritable honking to finally move them out of the parking lot. Stiles was the one who ended up with a sunburn, as it turned out. But he didn’t mind that much, not when it came with Derek in his apartment, smoothing aloe vera onto the back of his neck, and then playfully kissing his nose again before smearing the gel along his lips’ path.

The next Saturday morning, the parking lot was quiet and still. Stiles was out on his balcony, a mug of coffee in one hand, the other resting lightly on Derek’s knee.

“Derek, look,” he hissed, nodding at the silver SUV that 401 was attempting to very quietly unlock. Rookie move; should’ve parked on the street if she didn’t want to be seen. “I bet you anything she’s sneaking off to the casino again before her husband wakes up.”

Derek didn't lift his eyes from the thick book he was reading—some boring examination of the history of European conflicts, last Stiles had checked. He hummed in the back of his throat, though, then rested his hand on top of Stiles’s to show he was listening.

Once 401 was safely on her way, revving the engine triumphantly as soon as she'd made it halfway down the block, Stiles drained the rest of his coffee. “Alright, I'm gonna take a shower.”

“Okay,” Derek said. He moved his hand and flipped a page of his book, still frowning in concentration at the dense, tiny text.

“You should join me,” Stiles said. “In fact, I think we should make that a habit for a while. It's about time you started making some serious strides in water conservation.”

“Honestly, Stiles,” Derek sighed.

But he set the book down.

#sterek #eternalsterek #sterekweek2017 #sterekmeetcute #derek hale #stiles stilinski #my fics

657 notes · View notes