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vanderlindemorgans · 4 years ago

Text

Cross My Heart (Chapter 2)

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x Reader

Rating: Explicit/18+

Summary: A traitorous Agent Whiskey returns to the United States on the run. Being cast out by Statesman, he soon finds that you’re the only person he can turn to - the embittered former flame from years long passed

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: Eventual smut, some references to alcoholism and drug use. Reader is in her late twenties but there is an age gap between her and Whiskey. Chapter specific warnings are as follows - mentions of alcohol, descriptions of blood, Whiskey being a bit of an ass and some brief talk of dead relatives.

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You watched him as he settled himself back down into the couch, taking note of every breath he took while he reclined back, refusing to look you straight in the eye. That didn’t bother you too much - you were too busy studying the myriad of bruises and cuts splayed along his body, from the tears and scuffs in his denim jacket to taking note of his perfectly maintained Stetson. How on Earth that thing had managed to escape from whatever situation Jack had gotten himself into unscathed mystified you, but from what you remembered of him you knew he loved that damn hat to death.

Neither of you had said a word to each other since he stumbled through your front door only moments before, that heightened sense of tension undoubtedly ripe in the air. You thought if you ever saw Jack Daniels face again that you’d have a couple of cutting remarks to say to him - if you ever did think about him that is, and you usually didn’t. Jack hadn’t haunted your thoughts for years now, memories of the summer you two first met and the cold dark of winter when you fell apart falling away to the sands of time. The last thing you ever expected was to have him show up on the front step of your ranch, looking like he’d been beaten within an inch of his life. Gazing over him now, you felt it was somewhat your obligation to make sure he was fine: despite your less than amicable feelings towards him you weren’t about to let him die on your couch.

“Can I get you anything?” you asked him, a hint of uncertainty to your tone. He turned his gaze towards you and shrugged slightly, looking no less unsettled than he had a moment before. “I’m fine for now. Trust me, it doesn’t hurt as bad as it looks”.

“You sure about that? No offense, but you kind of look like a wreck” you shot back, to which he replied with a small scoff. “Nice to see you too, sweetheart. I forgot how hospitable you were to those in your care”.

You could feel a spark of heat rise in your cheeks at his words, and almost wanted to retort back with something equally if not more biting. That fucking bastard. Here he was, lying on your couch looking like he’d walked out of a gang fight and he had the gall to give you attitude. “Alright, ignoring your completely rude and uncalled for attitude for a moment, you still haven’t answered my question. What the fuck did you get yourself into?” you asked.

There was a momentary pause where Jack looked back up at you, an expression of remorse crossing over his face in the brief glance he shot at you. Turning his gaze back down towards the wooden coffee table before him, he shook his head and sighed. “Sorry about that, darlin’.I just...I got myself into a bit of a tight situation. Things have gotten complicated now” he explained, prompting you to raise your brow at him.

“Yeah, I can see that. Who did this to you?”.

“Just some other agents. It doesn’t matter” he replied curtly.

“From where? Statesman?” you asked. After dating him for about a year, you were well aware of his position as an agent to Statesman, and you knew exactly what that job entailed. Jack had been injured before, sometimes worse than how he was now. You remembered once he came back from a mission with several different bones broken, multiple gunshot wounds and a concussion. You’d been left worried for weeks after that as he recovered, only being allowed short visits to see him due to the very nature of his job. This time was different though. You knew Jack was a survivor, but for him to show up out of the blue after several years of no contact, looking the way he did, something was horribly wrong. Studying his expression intensely, you couldn’t help but let out a low sigh in frustration. It annoyed you to some degree of how evasive his answers had been thus far. It was almost like he was ashamed to even say what had happened to him, ashamed to be even talking to you.

“No, no, they...they weren’t. That’s not important right now though” he finally answered, running the edges of his fingers over his tattered jeans. If it were any other day you would have been more upset at his dismissal of your question but upon seeing the troubled look on his face you felt it best to let it go. An uncomfortable silence had started to hang over the room, the space between you and him feeling more and more tense as the moments ticked by. You looked down at your shoes, taking note of every scuff and streak of mud as if they were the most interesting things in the world, and giving yourself another minute of hesitation before blurting out “Why are you in Dallas?”.

“It just so happened to be the place the cargo plane I was stowing away on landed. I wasn’t tryin’ to seek you out or anything, if you’ll believe me”.

His explanation gave cause for you to raise a single brow at him once more, not entirely believing it to be a coincidence that he just happened to show up in Dallas after seven years of radio silence. “Really? Why come here then? Don’t you have your agent buddies to fall back on for shit like this?” you inquired, your tone coming off far more biting and bitter than you originally intended it to. You could see Jack seize up slightly at your callousness, a pained expression passing over his face that made your breath catch in your throat for a second before you darted your eyes away from him, focusing back down to your shoes and deriding yourself for even having a moment of fleeting attraction to him. All these years and those pathetic puppy dog eyes still managed to get to you. Damn him.

“Usually, yeah. Not this time round though. I’ve…” he stopped himself, his eyes betraying the deep wounded pain woven within them, strengthening every second longer he dwelled on the memory of his former glory. “I’ve been kicked out of Statesman. Or, well, I haven’t officially been kicked but after what happened the other day I’d be a damn fool if I even tried to walk through their doors again”.

You blinked at him in confusion, his words not fully registering with you. Statesman kicked him out? Him of all people? You briefly considered the possibility that he was simply just pulling your leg and trying to gain some sort of sympathy but upon remembering the pained expression on his face you were instantly told all you needed to know about the truth behind his words. Ok, so he’s not lying, but still...why? “I find it hard to believe that they’d just boot out their best field agent. What did you do to warrant that?”.

You could see Jack’s mouth twitch slightly, indicating that he wasn’t entirely up for divulging such information. Running a hand through his hair, he trained his eyes to the ground and refused to look up at you as he went on to explain what exactly had gone down to lead him there. “Long story short, I had a disagreement of sorts with a couple of agents from a fellow organisation, and may have gone against Champ’s direct orders in order to hinder them. I guess you could say I went rogue” he elaborated, intentionally trying to keep some of the finer details out. You had half a mind to push for more info, though after another seconds thought you decided against that idea and instead settled for nodding at him semi-sympathetically. “I see. So...why are you here then?”.

He didn’t answer you right away, rather finding himself to be staring straight upwards at the wooden beams on the ceiling above. You analysed his expression, trying to find any sort of hint towards what he was thinking. Your eyes kept being drawn back to that dried gash of blood across his cheek, and you winced at the thought of him being in any sort of prolonged pain. Maybe you should have fetched some medical supplies for him after all - knowing Jack and the way he was, he always liked to downplay the dangers associated with his job. Every time he wound up in Statesman’s medical wing needing some sort of bullet taken out of him he never once admitted to ever being in pain. Getting injured was part of the job, he always said, so it wasn’t worth it to worry over him everytime he got hurt in the line of duty. He was an expert at saying he was fine when it was all too clear that everything wasn’t.

The sound of Jack sighing heavily pulled you from your thoughts, looking up to see him with his head in his hands, practically exhibiting every clear sign of tension in the book. A small part of you wanted to feel sorry for him, for seeing him like this. “Look, I realise this may be too much to ask of you, considering our history, and part of me hates that I have to in the first place but...I have nowhere else to go. I can’t go back home to either New York or Kentucky. I’m not an agent anymore, so I can’t ask any of them for help, and I’m almost a hundred percent sure that I’ve got some sort of bounty on my head now. I’m on the lam as they call it” he prattled. “I need a place to hide out, to lay low while I sort some shit out”.

The day had already been weird enough already, hearing him ask for your help was only just the cherry on top. Blinking slowly and with your mouth hanging open in utter disbelief, you blurted out “Let me get this straight: you need my help?”.

“Just for a little while, and I promise, sweetheart, as soon as I’m able to I’ll be outta your hair” Jack assured, turning his eyes upwards to you so that you could see his lovely brown eyes, the very same ones that you felt yourself get lost in all those long years ago. “I would never ask this of you unless I had no other choice. You and I both know that”.

You were at a complete loss for words. Between his tone and those frustratingly sweet eyes of his, you weighed your options carefully on what you should do. Should you let him stay with you? On one hand, with what he’d done to you years ago, something that still left you hurting even now, some part of you felt hostile towards him being around again. You remembered being young and 21, giving your heart out to him and only ever receiving empty promises in the end, leaving you with the painful memory of standing crestfallen on a flight of marbled stairs, on a night that you had sworn was gonna end with a ring ending instead with a shattered heart and never-ending glasses of merlot on your lips. Eventually, you’d learnt to live with the heartache. And pretty soon, for the most part, you’d forgotten. Seeing him there, tonight, in your living room of all places, was starting to bring those feelings back. No matter how hard you tried to stifle them, ignore them and focus on the matter at hand, you still felt the bitterness creep into your tone every time you opened your mouth.

Still, even though Jack had hurt you, you couldn’t just leave him out with nothing. From what he told you, he truly had nowhere else to run. If you threw him out now, he could be dead within hours. The mere thought of that made your heart sting, and despite any bad blood between you two you weren’t heartless, so with a small sigh, you at last settled on the answer you would give to him. “Alright. I’ll let you stay. On one condition though: you gotta help out a little with some of the ranch handling stuff. Once you’re all healed up from your injuries of course” you posited. “And don’t bother trying to butter me up, I’m not enough of an idiot to fall for your charms twice. I’m doing you a favour so it would be in your best interest to avoid pissing me off. You think you can handle that?”.

He smirked back at you, though it was void of it’s usual playfulness and felt to be more out of sadness than anything resembling his usual jackassery. “You drive a hard bargain, sweetheart, but yeah, of course. I’d be more than happy to help ya out”.

“Alright. Now…” you nodded at him before turning on your heel in the direction of the kitchen in search of some bandage and gauze for his injuries. “I am going to get you some medical supplies because even though you said you’re fine you clearly aren’t, and I’m not about to have you dropping dead in my goddamn living room. The blood would get all over the carpet and I ain’t lookin’ to pay to get it cleaned” you announced, dropping down to your knees and rifling through one of the lower kitchen cabinets for all the necessary items.

You could hear him chuckle from the living room, imagining him to be wearing a more toned down version of that charming grin he always seemed to have on him. “Ah, you wound me, my dear girl. Where are your folks?”.

His question made your heart seize in your chest, your hands grasped around the roll of bandage and bottle of antiseptic you’d scrounged out from the back of the cupboard. Rising to your feet, you stuttered on your words as you led yourself back into the living room with an arm full of different medical equipment. “They...they died a couple of years ago. It’s been just me for awhile” you answered back, doing your best to ignore the look of surprise that spread across Jack’s face. “I’m sorry to hear that, darlin’”.

Tearing off a strip of bandage, you motioned for him to give you his arm so that you could begin tending to some of the deeper cuts on him. “It’s ok. Well, not ok, really, but what can you do?” you murmured, brushing the length of his torn denim jacket out of the way and pressing down a dash of cold antiseptic cream across one of his cuts, watching as how he winced slightly from the sting. “Life goes on. It has to, or else you get left frozen”. Shaking your head, you began to tie the strip of fabric around his forearm, eager to get off the topic of your deceased loved ones as soon as possible. “I’ll put you up in the guest room upstairs. Don’t go through any of the shit in the cupboards, ok? It’s private stuff”.

“I would never dream of doing so, sugar”.

“Good. Lucky for you, none of these gashes seem too bad so they’ll most likely heal within a couple of days. I’ll just put a bit of adhesive over that awful one you got across your cheek and you’ll be right as rain in no time” you said, popping open the box of adhesive bandages.

Jack smiled at you, albeit weakly as you smoothed the bandage over his cheek. “Thank you for doing this for me. I mean it. Honestly, I didn’t think you were even gonna let me stay here”.

You shot him an odd look at that comment, leaning back down to pick up the various bits of first aid paraphernalia off the floor to deposit back onto the coffee table. “What do you take me for, Jack? I ain’t a cold hearted bitch. I hate you for what you did but I don’t want you to die or anything” you quipped, staring at him straight in the eyes as you said those words. Not allowing him a second to respond, you turned away and began to walk off towards the stairs, starting to feel the exhaustion of the day sink in once again when you placed your foot on the first rung.“You’re all good to go. I’d say go upstairs and get some rest, lord knows that’s what I’ll be doing. If you need anything give me a shout ok?”.

He nodded back at you wordlessly, abruptly turning away afterwards the lean against the couch with his back turned to you, lost back in his own thoughts. You allowed your gaze to linger on him for a moment longer then dragged yourself up the stairs and towards your bedroom, flicking off the hallway lights as you went. In an instant after you heard the click of your bedroom door shut behind you, you allowed yourself to groan out in agony at your entire predicament. So, your ex-boyfriend is on the run and hiding out in your house. This could prove to be interesting...

#agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels #jack daniels x reader #kingsman: the golden circle #kingsman fanfiction #cross my heart #pedro pascal

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minstrivia · 6 years ago

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; lovesick 02 | m.

— title: meet me

— pairing: kim taehyung x reader, ft. kim namjoon

— genre: angst, smut, college au, fuckboy au

— word count: 7k+

i’m thinking back to when i was young. back to the day when i was falling in love

— warnings: breathplay, creampie, degradation, dirty talk, praise!kink, rough sex, voyeurism (mission get a room = failed), unprotected sex, wow this was meant to be soft smut?? with a condom!!! what even am i??

— disclaimer: y/n making bad choices even i don’t agree with.

It had been one of those halcyon rural nightfalls, those culminating mesmeric sundown's she'd known he had an all too aberrant penchant for. A benign tranquillity mediating amongst them as the moonlight barely brought life to the terrain surrounding, everything yonder a picture of secrecy to the caricature naked eye and near complete reticence besides the genial rustling of the bosky grass beneath them. Y/N remembers thinking she could never forget a time like that, a claudicant moment when he'd sat before her, fracturable as ever, a corpulent stretch of arms lengths keeping them— much to her chagrin— alienated from the other, his tall legs bent taut to his chest, arms clasped around the span of his calves and his forehead stuck to the hard callous bones of his knees. At the time it'd been such a mystifying sight, so implausibly strange she'd had no idea what to say to him, no collated words seemed explicitly helpful nor fitting then. So, she'd watched him instead, figure bent like his own, cheek to knees whilst she observed him meticulously, eyes centralised on the rhythmic heaved breaths curling at the rounds of his spine, the fractious shake seizing his tightly clasped fingers and rendering him— weak? Y/N had scrunched her nose at the word. Taehyung wasn't weak, not her best friend, not the charismatic libidinous brazen Apollo that emanated with a cocksure aura she'd always envied. Weak had been the last thing she'd ever describe him as. Yet, there he'd presented himself before her, emphatic harrowing sobs racking through the frame of his body, cursing the easeful night with a wretched cry for help and making her wonder. What had it taken to fully shatter a boy so complete? He'd yet to tell her why he'd called, not that she'd asked either, the hoarse skittish tone in his voice had choked the stemming question in her throat, superseding it with a curt mutter of agreement; settling to meet him at such a time despite the few hours left before start of school. Howbeit, she'd never regret it, even with the fact he'd caused her stellar attendance to be barred with her first ever uncharted truancy. She could never bring herself to second guess her decision to meet him, not when he'd finally looked at her the way he did— talked to her the way he did— or even touched her the way he did. Y/N had found herself admiring him then, admiring the way he'd composed himself somewhat, cries lapsing into here and there subdued gasps and whispers as he'd gripped onto his clothing with an iron fist. Building his cinder block walls back as steep as ever, as if all he'd really needed was just to let it all out, for that fugitive moment, he'd just needed to be boundless, completely sedate with an inspirited freedom. And all he'd wanted was her there, an understanding of silence as she'd waited on the grounds that he'd just needed her presence— nothing more, nothing less. "Sorry," he'd murmured, the taper whites of his eyes delineated a wounded scarlet when he chanced a fleeting glance at her, an almost pitiable sniffle crinkling at his nose and his desiccant lips parting ever so effortlessly when he spoke, a blithe whisper being all that was made of the words. "I'm sorry, Y/N." "Hmm?" Y/N's lips had stooped into an addled grimace. For what reason did he have to be sorry? She hadn't been the one with stale streaks of tears lining her ruddy cheeks, neither had she been the one to sound so damaged, so obscured. And still, the sincerity of the utterance hadn't been lost in transit, leaving her as dumbstruck as ever, back straightening as she narrowed her eyes. "For what?" "Dragging you here—" He scuffed his shoes on the rocky mud beneath him, pretending the display had become of sudden concern to him as he refused to look at her. He'd know what she'd been thinking if he had, Y/N had always been so transparent to him, a facile gander being all it took to fathom the thoughts she'd assumed her face had hidden. And he hadn't needed— wanted it, not then, definitely not then. "You shouldn't have come out here for me. Should have told me to fuck off or something." Y/N had nodded mindlessly, she wasn't completely oblivious, she'd known he was a lot more partial in venturing to divert the conversation from what she'd just witnessed, than feigning he hadn't really needed her. But she'd went along with it, she'd replied, "Maybe." A heedless lift of her shoulders followed by a genteel laugh as she ran her clammy palms up her thigh. "It's too late now though, isn't it?" She asked, rhetorically, of course, clapping her hands together with a simper. "Anyway, who are you kidding? I would have come regardless." Taehyung scoffed, his head rising to finally look at her properly, finally bask in her fixed gaze, curiosity drawing at her brows and questioning at her lips. Of course, that had been her answer, he hadn't really expected anything less, not from Y/N, her heart had been too warm for that, too impulsively caring and big to leave him by himself at a time like that. And he'd known that. "Y/N, you ever wonder if erm—" He sighed, a hefty breath clearing his thoughts momentarily, head sloping upwards as the incandescent stars began to illuminate the twilight sky, one by one, enlightening it with a picturesque artistry of love, hope, and new beginnings. All of which he'd found he wanted, craved even. "You ever wonder if you'll ever find that someone, you know? That someone that makes you, for the first time in your life want to care— really really care, for them and them for you. Someone you know you'd do anything for." Y/N imagines her face must have been a picture of curiosity when he'd looked at her, a chary smile and an airy shrug thrown her way to ease the weighty burden of his thoughts. As if he'd known she felt out of her depth but continued anyway. "You ever just sit and wonder if that perfect person actually exists, or— or if you're just never meant to feel that kind of happiness. If that person may be someone else's first, never to be yours, no matter how much you want them because that's just the way the world works." He'd chuckled despite his copious tone, outstretching his lengthy legs forward, balls of his palms pressed to the ground behind him whilst he'd looked at her, regarding her with such scrutiny, as if she'd never fully understood but he'd said it anyway. And Y/N hadn't understood, not then, not really. She'd cleared her throat, tugging at the frayed ends of her woolly jumper nervously, eyes veering away from his as the sudden overwhelming feeling of being under his pointed gaze seeped below her skin, shuddering down her spine and making her feel as if she were the reason they'd been cooped at the top of the mountain and not him, as if she'd been the one that needed to let go. Taehyung always had a way of doing that, like an art he'd defined, his undeviating attention compelling one to feel under examination, no matter the circumstance. And it'd always worked on her, his stare heating her body with an analeptic warmth she could never explain despite her tries. She'd swallowed, throat dry and hoarse, the question she'd been waiting to ask right at the tip of her tongue. "What makes you say that?" He'd snorted jovially. "Y/N, my mother's been cheating on my father for as long as I can remember, hell, for as long as we can remember—," he'd said, a spiteful jeer in his voice as he'd spat out the term 'mother' like it had left an astringent taste of repulsion in his mouth and she could do nothing but wince. "— and he lets her. He just fucking lets her, no matter what I say. He lets her fucking prance around with her other fucking family as if she's fucking proud of it. God, she's such a bitch, such a fucking gold-digging bitch, embarrassing him like she does, making him seem like he's a fucking stupid idiot, because of what? Huh? Why Y/N? Why?" He'd looked at her, glassy eyes wide and crazed as he'd searched for the answers in her face, pupils flicking from side to side as if he'd really believed that if he'd looked hard enough, he'd find it. But he wouldn't, she hadn't had those answers for him. She'd ran her tongue across the surface of her dry lips, answering with the only thing she'd known was true. "Love is blind." Taehyung shook his head, a sheer protest to her reply. "No. Love is bullshit." He'd countered, an unnerving finality strong within his tone. "It's him that's fucking blind. God, I hate her so much, you know. She's such a fucking parasite, worming her way into his money without a care in the world and he just doesn't deserve that. I wish he'd never met her." He heaved a sigh burying his face into his hands and dragging them down as he sloped his head back. "She uh— She wants to send Namjoon into one of these private prestigious universities, and she asked my own father to pay for it. She asked my father to pay to send a child, that is not his own, to a beyond fucking expensive school. And he'd just said yes. I tried— I fucking tried to speak some sense into him, but erm my mother didn't really like that, did she." He'd twisted his head to the side, giving her a proper view of the other half of his face, a sweltering claret hand mark pressed angrily into his cheek and Y/N's heart had clenched at the sight. Next moves done with little to no hesitation, clambering onto her knees, stationing herself beside him as she took his cheek into the tenderness of her palm, thumb stroking away the stray tears whilst he melted into her touch, lids fluttering to a steady close. She'd smiled dolefully. "Your father is just— he's just a victim to unjust love, I guess. He's already in too deep and to get out from that place must be so hard for him you know. It won't be like that for you. I promise." "Y/N, I think—" His eyes opened with a smile almost as forlorn as her own, as he moved away from her feathery caress. "I think I've found that person that I think of 24/7, the person that I want to see smiling, that I want to be the reason for it," He'd divulged before pausing, blinking ever so languidly and sinking his teeth into his bottom lip. "But I don't want to be my father. I can't be my father. And that scares me because I really do think I've found her." He'd sounded like it, sorrow thick and corpulent in his speech, tongue bandaging 'round the words so fluently she'd almost believed he'd practised it beforehand. But he'd shaken his head, fingers combing through the legion umber tussocks of his hair and roughing it up ever so slightly. "Promise me something." "What?" "Here." He'd opened his arms wide, enveloping her within his hold, her head rested on the slope of his shoulder as his arm pulled her skin-tight by her waist. It had been warmer like that, the wind hardly noticeable with the makeshift barricade they'd created, it was one of the first things she'd noticed, that and the way his heart had beaten, at a pace faster than normal yet just as steady. "Promise me you'll never leave—" "Tae—" "No, just— just listen." He'd insisted, gripping her just that bit tighter like he'd been scared she'd make a run for it if he didn't. "Promise that no matter what I do, no matter how much I fuck up, you'll never leave me. You're the only one I trust Y/N. I— Promise that if we never find true love, or if somewhere along the lines it gets lost, or whatever bullshit, that we'll be each other's perfect someone's because you're the only one I know won't hurt me Y/N. Not like my mother." Y/N had stilled briefly, he couldn't be serious? In a few seconds, she'd hear the first tell-tale bubbles of laughter falling from his lips and giving him away like it always did. But the longer she'd waited, the more it felt like such a thing would never come and when she'd finally decided to peer up at him, he'd already been looking down at her, a bold sobriety in his features that stood its ground. She'd tutted, digging her elbow into his side with a mischievous nudge. "As if you could deal with me every single day," she'd stated, a splitting grin plastered on her face as she'd found it a lot more amusing than she probably should've. "Have you even thought about this? I would positively drive you up the wall and I know you would too." Taehyung shrugged indifferently, though, in reality, he'd already given it much more thought than he'd like to admit; he'd even weighed out the pros and cons like it were some thesis he'd have to give in. So yes, he'd done more than just thought about it. "Y/N, I could deal with you for eternity and more. You know why?" He'd stuck out his pinkie finger tentatively and Y/N knew she couldn't say no, not to him— never to Taehyung. She'd curled her smaller finger around his, fusing the aphonic promise amongst them as he daintily pressed his lips to her temple, murmuring lightly against the skin, just loud enough for her to catch it. "Because you're my best friend Y/N." And it'd been somewhere along those lines, somewhere amidst him baring all for her to see, before coating back his layers thicker, somewhere amongst the raw words he'd uttered and promises they'd made that she'd fallen in love with Taehyung for the first time, properly fell in love that is, heart beating out of its confinement's as she breathed him in for what felt like the first time ever. "And you're mine Tae."

"You didn't do it, did you?" "What?" Y/N's body lurches forward instantly, the book she'd been firmly clutching in her hands subdued onto the table gaudily, her rib jarring roughly on the whetted outskirt of the timber as she curses to herself. "Jesus Christ, Min Yoongi," she hisses, resting a nervy palm over her chest to even the hasty cumbrous beats of her heart, turning her head to scowl at the boy standing behind her, his inklike hair vitric and glossy as his eyes bore flatly into hers. "Why are you like this?" He nods a scant tut of his teeth following his hum of confirmation. "So, you didn't." "Is it really that obvious?" She huffs, her cheeks swelling out marginally when she blows at the hair that briefly obscures her face and slumps down further into her seat. Yoongi lifts his shoulders apathetically, tucking his hands into his trousers and lounging amply in the seat beside her. "Well let me see, you're sitting in the library, reading—" He veers forward, flipping the hardcover book to a close, brows puckered and his lips screwing up in distaste when he inwardly reads the title of the astronomy book she'd picked up on a whim. "—whatever this fucking is when we were meant to be going to that pharmacy to get me more aspirin. I'd say it's a little more than pretty obvious, wouldn't you?" Y/N cries out, figure sagging as she plants her forehead to the table. "God, I'm sorry Yoongs. I completely forgot. I was just—" "Apology not accepted," He declares, cutting her off and overlapping his arms together. And Y/N can't help sneaking a cursory peep at him through the corner of her eye. He's looking straight at her, lashes flitting sluggishly, not even a trace of a smile picking at his lips and his brows raised expectantly. She knows he's irritated— well really, more than anything completely fed up of her, and she knows it's not because of some stupid aspirin. But she's got some pride, pride that won't let her admit to her wrongdoings. "What?" Yoongi scoffs, his head swaying almost humanely. "You're pathetic." That she is. Y/N would have to be categorically fucking pathetic to be hiding from her own boyfriend as if she's the one that's done wrong. As if she's the cheater. But she just can't face him, she can't bear the judging side-eyes she's been getting all day, the fleeting ganders of rapport, and the continuous indistinct murmurs about that silly, stupid rumour, which— leave it up to Taehyung— Y/N knows is plausibly true. It's as good as loathsome when she really thinks about it, she can't defend his honour if she tried, she can't pretend for even a second that such rumours may not be true. And yet, she continues to call herself his girlfriend. She laments, rooting her elbows to the table and capturing her face in the grasp of her palms. "I know. I know." Yoongi grimaces. "You wanna know who it was this time?"

Y/N shakes her head. She knows Yoongi doesn't intend to be purposefully callous all the time— nor does he really want to. It's just that she refuses to listen to him, he's told her time and time again that Taehyung doesn't care as she does, Yoongi's told her that Taehyung will continue to maltreat her, that even though he'll say he loves her; he doesn't. And still somehow, someway she contrives to persuade herself that he does. Taehyung does care. Taehyung won't hurt her. Taehyung loves her. "I'd rather not,” she replies. Acknowledging it would only make it worse— comprehending that tiny detail would only make it laborious to assure herself that she's not doubtlessly dense when she says that she loves him. And Yoongi knows that. "Well, it's Jennie," he blurts out. "Kim Jennie. The pretty girl that sits next to you in Chem, Jennie—" "Yoongi!" "No Y/N, look at me—" He clinches her wrist stiffly in his grip, yanking her arm forcibly enough that her torso swivels towards him till she's meeting him properly. Face hardly centimetres apart from his when he finally vocalises his intention. "—you need to get a fucking grip. The boy is cheating on you, whether you like it or not, he is," He jeers, a compact hitch in his lecture, his eyes wavering over her features as if to check he hasn't gone farther than he meant to. "Now, I don't know whatever fucking excuse you've conjured up for him in your head but Y/N this— this isn't normal, and it's not healthy." And she doesn't want to hear any more of it. She rips her arm away from him abruptly, wringing her palm around the wrist to soothe the biting sensation of his fingers. "Ouch, you're an asshole." "And you need to break up with him," He concludes, not a slither of a debate held in his emphasis or his rigid stare. "Oh, there you are Y/N." Fuck. Y/N curses under her breath, pegging in her spot and instantly preferring to be met with the drubbing defeat of Yoongi's self-satisfied smirk than to take notice of the boy she'd been trying to evade all day. Presence almost tyrannical as his confusion at her and Yoongi's current state lapses off him in fluctuations, an emotion that flushes warm under her skin against her will. "Do it now," Yoongi rasps, his voice hushed and ominous enough, a temporary mumble, that's meant for her ears only, before he rises to his feet, dusting nonexistent lint off the tops of his legs and beaming for the first time since he'd come. A smile that Y/N knows is all too phoney. "Anyway, we'll just go to the pharmacy after class. See you Y/N. Tae."

Y/N swallows thickly, eyes following the way Yoongi leaves in a quickstepped dash, gloomily coveting she could do the same. Or, better yet, just disappear. "What erm— What are you doing here?" She asks, glimpsing at the way Taehyung topples on the globes of his feet, grooming his hair by his fingers, shifting it backwards and allowing it to flounder down in place.

He grins, settling himself in the chair Yoongi had just departed from but hobbling it that tad bit closer to her so that their knees knock together when he leans in. "I couldn't find you this morning," he begins, allotting the plastic bag he'd had in his hold on the table. "But Jimin said he'd definitely seen you. So I thought, it's getting nearer to exams, of course, you'll be in the library and of course, you'll forget to eat. Aren't I great?" "Hmm." Y/N looks carefully between the bag and him, hands shoved in the centre of her pressed thighs, despairingly hoping to not seem too agitated. It's always harder when Taehyung's entirely sober. When he's like this, she can almost recognise the sparse remnants of her best friend, the one that knows all her favoured foods, an esoteric draw of a smile deep-rooted on his lips when he shreds the sandwich packet open, prompting the white breaded ham and cheese sandwich towards her. She reels her bottom lip into her mouth dubiously. It's a nice thing he's done, it really is. But it's not nice enough, it's not cordial enough to stop the claimant question— even though she knows— tumbling from her lips. "Who's Jennie?" Taehyung doesn't flinch, he propels his legs in front of him, arms spreading to retire behind her chair leisurely. "Who?" There's an almost cocky squint in his orbs, an audacious trace vivid in his pupils as if he thinks she'll give up now. Like she normally does. She won't though. She grates her teeth together, breathing in to compose herself— at least partially— before rephrasing her interrogation. "Who were you with the other night?" "Hmm?" He recoils this time, subtly, hauling his shoes upon the floor, eyes drawing to a wary squint and frowning. "What d'you mean?" Taehyung knows what she means, Y/N knows he does, he clicks his teeth and wheels his shoulders back as if he does and her fingers curve into fists. "After you left," she emphasises, an astringent exhalation coating the stressed words. "After you left, who were you with?" "I don't—" He huffs defeatedly, he's trying to remember— he really is. His forehead folds up in thought, brows neighbouring closely, ivories clamped onto his gums as he rummages through his whereabouts yesterday, but he's coming up muddled every time. There's nothing following Y/N as far as his memory goes. So he settles for what he hopes to be, an apologetic shrug. He just can't remember. "I don't know Y/N." Y/N snorts. "Yeah, okay," she drags, scoffing when she nudges his arm off her chair. She doesn't know why she's still entertaining him— actually she knows. She just doesn't know why she won't fucking listen to Yoongi, she can't fathom why whenever Taehyung looks at her with those brownish eyes of his all she can remember is the day he'd fretted being alone. The day she'd witnessed him crying and prayed she'd never see it again. "Y/N look, I don't remember what happened last night. But I know for sure I wasn't with anyone else," He insists, dragging at her chair easily, the wood irritating tawdrily against the floor and she has to jam her feet on the floor to get him to stop. She's full-on scowling now, temper flaring deep in her eyes when she stabs her forefinger to his chest. "You are such a fucking liar Taehyung!" "Be quiet," he scolds, eyes darting around the room, seizing hold of her finger and forcing it away promptly. “Don’t make a scene.”

“Don’t make a—” Y/N can’t believe him. He has the guts to tell her not to make a ‘scene’ because he can’t bear being called out. She pulls at the collar of her blazer, sheathing the clothing to suit her correctly as she arises to her feet. “You think I’m making a scene?” She snaps. She plucks up the neglected book with two hands, elevating it beyond her head and slamming it back down onto the desk forcibly, the turbulent thud echoing off the walls ‘round them and she smirks. “That’s making a scene.”

"For fuck's sake, Y/N." Taehyung hooks the pads of his finger into the flesh of her thigh in a bruising grapple, his other hand bunching her hair together and yanking her head back when he stands. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" He snarls, wrenching at her hair again so that her scalp starts to throb at the pain. And in a way, it’s a relief he’d found Y/N in one of the more screened sections of the library because it means he can drive her, ass first onto the table, legs separating her thighs and his palms established by them as he confines her in. “I said, I wasn’t with anyone.”

“And I said, Jennie, begs to fucking differ.”

Taehyung paves the pads of his central finger and thumb into her chin, moving her downcast face towards him, outlining his teeth on the bony seams of her jaw. “Y/N, I promise I wasn’t with anyone,” he states, brushing a fluffy feathery kiss on the pill of her cheek, her eyelids involuntarily rippling to a close at the impromptu act. “Promise.”

Y/N shouldn’t be pondering this, she shouldn’t be relishing in how intimate he is to her right now, she unquestionably shouldn’t be craving more than just the kiss that he’s given her and she can nearly visualise the unimpressed stern scowl Yoongi would be bestowing her if he could see her now. However she’s stirring it aft, there’s something in the way Taehyung speaks to her, a deep velvety baritone that rattles within her body, coercing her to adhere to his every abhorrent will, and making everything seem alright. Her chest drops when she expires despondently, “You promise?” He nods, resting his forehead considerately against hers. “I promise. I would never do that to you. Now, can I kiss my favourite girl?”

Y/N abstains from declaring he has, that he’s done it to her so many time's shes even lost count, so she acknowledges him mutely instead, a moderately embracing smile displayed on her features when he skims his lips against hers, ambiguously at first, as if he’s stalling for her to rouse to her reasoning and shove him away. She doesn’t, her palms tarry securely adhered to the wooden surface and it’s all he needs. He deepens the kiss instantly, slanting her head up slightly when he does, his soft lips eager and completely him. Y/N can’t taste a drop of liquor on the depths of his tongue, she savours the richness of milk chocolate, the divine creaminess of peanut butter and the explicit freshness of mint. And the combination is so uniquely him, she can’t help but moan in bliss. His name befalling from her parted lips as his hand massages the skin of her thighs beneath her skirt, peppering sloppy moist kisses down her throat.

Taehyung smirks against the surface. “Love the way you say my name,” he mutters. “Gets me so fucking hard, you wouldn’t believe it.” He ruts his hips into hers, the rockhard bulge tightening in his trousers grazing against the cotton material of her panties solicitously and eliciting a sensual mewl that sings like a melody to his ears. “Fuck, so beautiful.”

Y/N burrows her nails far into his forearms, breath slipping out of regular paced rhythm as he continues to rut against her. She’s enjoying this, if she were to go by the possible state of her— by far— damp panties, she’d say she’s enjoying this a bit too much. And the risks are impossibly high, if someone, be it a teacher were to walk past the long dwindled passage she’s sure she’ll struggle to attain a fitting explanation for such a compromising position they’re in. But it doesn’t faze her in the slightest. She sucks his lower lip into her mouth when he lifts his head, scraping her teeth across the flesh libidinously before releasing it. “Want you to fuck me Tae,” she whispers, bucking her hips to meet him halfway. “Please fuck me.”

“Shit—” Taehyung coasts her skirt up her thighs when he grips at her hip to hold her down in place. Sincerely, he hadn’t come here with a purpose to fuck her at all, he’d truly just needed to make sure she’d eaten because he knows how forgetful she can get this time of year when exams are looming around the corner and she’s striving to juggle everything all at once in the most Y/N fashion, so, detrimentally struggling. But, who is he to pass up an opportunity like this. “—you have to be real quiet for me.”

“I will.” Or more accurately said, she’ll give it her best shot.

“Fuck,” he growls, shifting her panties out the way and parting her lips with two long digits. She’s already so so wet for him, her dewy juices glazing and warming the surface of his skin within seconds as he rubs her deliberately, flicking and pressing onto her clit in a swift manner that has Y/N gasping with tottering tremors. Taehyung adores her reactions the most, the way bantam things he does derives such pleasant sounds from her mouth in a way he knows only he’s heard. “God, you’re pretty.”

Y/N clamps a palm over her gaping mouth a strident gasp hushed and her eyes rolling back when he sinks his broad finger into her slit, curling the digit up inside her and grinding his thumb up against her clit. She nods nimbly. “Just like that, please.”

“Uh huh, you like that?” He draws his finger out just to his knuckle before thrusting it back into her, a hastened repetitive pattern, fucking her with his fingers and rubbing vigorously at her clit. And it’s more than enough to have Y/N casting her head back, chest arching towards him and her arms flung loosely around his neck. But he wants more— she wants more. He wants to see her writhing beneath him, total power granted to him as she dissolves in his arms. So he adds another finger, quickening his pace and brushing at her g-spot with every thrust. “Bet you like that better, huh?”

“Yes— fuck, yes.”

“God, you’re such a fucking slut,” he husks, popping the buttons to her cream blouse apart with just a meagre run of his forefinger, her white bra hardly covering the plump mounds of her breast and he doesn’t waste any time, nipping at the supple flesh and marking her as his. “You’ll let me play with you wherever I fucking want, won’t you?”

Y/N whines in response, speech impaired by the way his long fingers abuse her cunt. Taehyung’s not taking it easy on her at all, he’s pumping in and out of her so rapidly that the entire table jolts marginally with the movement and she can’t help but imagine what damage his cock will do. The slushy sounds coming from her his fingers in her cunt are crass and lewd, embarrassing even, but she has no time to be bothered at all. Not when he’s speaking so erotically to her.

“You’re so fucking good like this—” He licks his lips at the sight of her, she’s definitely a work of art. One he thinks no-one could ever recreate, not his girl, definitely not Y/N. “—wish everyone could see how fucking nasty you can get. Tarnish that innocent persona of yours.”

“God Tae, I’m so fucking close.”

“Yeah? You think you can take three fingers?” He presses another digit amongst the mix, her walls clamping tight against the intrusion and he groans, he can’t fucking wait to be inside her. “Gotta stretch that tight cunt nice and ready for my cock.”

Y/N can’t even hush the stagnated moan that puffs at her lips, the pushy stretch is almost a replica of his cock, and it’s all too much for her. He’s biting at her skin, rubbing at her clit and fucking her cunt with no respite and she’s overcome her heart stuttering, mind blank with a hazy fog and her toes curling in her shoes as she lets her orgasm take over. The shockwaves quivering through her figure, ousting uncontrollably at her hips whilst Taehyung susurrates praise of ‘that’s my girl’, ‘doing so fucking well’ and ‘god, you’re hot’ in her ears. And when she comes back down, lids finally flapping to an open, he’s grinning widely at her.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, you know that?”

There’s a transparent sincerity in his words, that even in her blissed-out post-orgasm state, Y/N can identify the apprehensive tic in his eye when he says it as if he thinks he’s said a little too much. She chews at her lip. “Thanks.”

Taehyung clears his throat, pressing a peck to her forehead, one that she wishes he’d take back because it’s all too cosy, all to loving and misleading. So before he can say anything, she jumps the gun, stroking slowly at the bulge in his plants and peering up at him between her lashes. “You can fuck me now… please.”

He blinks, lulling for a moment in confusion before finding his bearings. “Yeah, yes, fuck sure.” He pulls his zip down instantly, only hauling his trousers and boxers down enough that he can get his cock out freely, a relieved sigh deflating his lungs when he frees his throbbing length from its confinement. “Fuck baby, like it better when you’re bent over for me.”

Y/N shifts off the table, twirling around and hiking her skirt up with a provoking wiggle of her ass. And it’s not until she’s properly doubled over, hands clutching the table edge fixedly that she notices the sheer black string of Yoongi’s basketball bag and she internally— well she hopes internally— panics. She knows Yoongi and she knows he’s done this on purpose to use as an excuse to come back when really all he’d be doing is checking to see if she’s broken up with Taehyung yet and she’s not even close. Y/N peers back, observing the way Taehyung strokes his cock with his palm, the tip already an indignant tint of red and she knows she’s gone too far to turn back now. She huffs. “Fuck, Tae you gotta hurry it up a bit.”

“What? Why?”

“Well, one I don’t really want to get caught by a teacher with your cock inside me,” she lies, partially lies, a teacher would definitely be worse than Yoongi catching them.

“Hmm, I don’t know,” He says, raising his brow at her. “I don’t think I really mind.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. Of course, he doesn't. “Tae!”

“Alright, alright.” Taehyung smooths his tip within her lips, wetting his cock before he drives his cock into her gradually, groaning gutturally, his brows bumped together and his teeth sunk into his bottom lip at the way her clammy walls absorb him in fast. "Fuck baby," he murmurs, levelling his palm onto her ass cheek to steady himself. She’s always so fucking beautifully tight for him.

“God,” Y/N mewls, knuckles blanching when she tightens her grip. Taehyung fills her up so fully, his cock skintight against her walls, mundane crests and veins slotting perfectly and his length stretching to tickle her cervix when he’s bottomed out. “Christ, you’re so fucking thick.”

Taehyung curves his hand underneath to grasp her throat, crooking at her spine when he does. “You’re gonna have to be quieter now Y/N,” he remarks, stiffening his grip in early warning. “Know you can be a real fucking loud whore, but I need you to be my quiet little slut now. Okay?”

Y/N nods, whimpering softly as he begins to rock into her, lazy thrusts that don’t give her a fair chance to start out. He’s drawing himself out of her completely before ramming back into her, jostling her body flimsily forward and she fights to keep quiet, high pitched whines shaking at her lips that has Taehyung holding onto her throat that bit tighter everytime until she’s suppressed to pitiful cries and a buzzing lightheadedness.

She can’t do it. “Fuck, Tae, want it— need it faster.” Not only can she barely handle the intense lethargy in his strokes, but also, she really does need him to be faster, the knowledge that Yoongi could walk in at any time lingering weighted at the back of her mind and not at all sitting comfortably with her. “Need it now.”

Taehyung gives her what she wants without any fuss, he abides his secure hold on her throat, clasping at the smalls of her waist as he begins to pound into her, fast stubborn thrusts striking his hips against the cheeks of her ass way too raucously for the confines of a library, but they’re deaf to it. Both too caught up with the pleasurable feeling their surroundings become insignificant. Especially to Y/N, when he’s fucking her the way he does, impelling her insides with such carnal velocity, she can’t help but get caught up in the thought that he’s absolutely perfect for her. He knows her through and through, he knows she loves it when he pulls her taut against him, his chest against her back as he rams his cock in her at an angle that has her legs trembling. He knows she loves it when he makes it practically impossible to breathe his fingers digging so far into her throat he threatens to cut off her air supply. And he knows she loves it when he calls her his, his good girl.

Taehyung tugs on her earlobes with his teeth. “Shit, you’re such a fucking good girl for me, aren't you?” Her dewy walls clasp firmly around him, attempting to clamp him down still and he grits his teeth together, brutally fucking her swollen cunt deeper than he’d been before. “Should come right inside you, make you walk around with it running down your legs.”

“Oh fuck, please, fill me up.”

“Shit.” Taehyung’s thrusts stutter as she proceeds to clamp down on his pulsating cock, and he’s grunting, chest heaving as he twitches inside her. This is invariably his favourite part when he can pull her snug upon him, retaining her there, hands on her body when he releases himself inside her, spurting hot cords of his cum deep in her cunt and watching the way it leaks out of her when he pulls himself out. He glimpses up at her amusedly, her hair loose and wild, her lips bloodied and her cheeks flushed with sweat. She looks how he loves her, beautifully fucked out.

“How ‘bout you come to my house after, and I’ll make you feel really good later. Hmm?” He offers, trapping his cum from escaping with her panties.

Y/N sighs. Fuck, Yoongi’s really going to kill her. “Okay.”

In hindsight, Y/N shouldn’t have answered the door.

It’s not even her own house and yet she’d answered as if it were. And now she’s duly regretting it. There's a blustering ornate moment of replete stillness, a corralling overwrought minute that imperceptibly prolongs far beyond its time, unsettling her thoughts, muddling letters into indistinguishable words and relaying them in an all too manic frenzy. At least, that's what it feels like; the world seemingly to have jarred in its circular axis, inhabitants muted and dispersed into fickle nothings and all that's left is something— someone, Y/N can only describe as a memory sorely forgotten.

A memory who somehow looks mostly the same— it's been a long time, too long, she knows that. But somehow— somehow, his fulgent coral hair still tousles high with that hardly noticeable parting that impels it smoothly to the sides of his face, familiar dainty dimples indenting the skin either side of his cheek when he smiles at her briefly, causing those ticks, those zealous shakes and quivers that never fail to take her by surprise. Now, even more-so. She's stuck. Her curled fingers have gone numb against the silvered knob, feet involuntarily seeded to the timber beneath her feet, pithy breaths baited with an anxious pause as she double— triple takes. He still looks like the man she'd dreamed of a thousand dreams, he's just that bit more clean-cut, that bit more defined, that little bit more of everything she's ever wanted. "Namjoon," she says, the name leaving her lips like a whisper would, fickle and dainty, floating meaninglessly in the morning breeze. His head cleaves a paltry probing tilt, even brows drawing together in a helix and eyes squinting with definite curiosity when he finally speaks, seeming to have shaken off his own initial shock. "Y/N? Is that you?" He chances a meagre step forward, feet barely lifting from the ground. It's daring, he knows it— she shows it, her knuckles strain at the way she tightens her grip considerably, a sharp intake of breath and a responding shuffle backwards. "What am I talking about? Of course, it's you." Namjoon scoffs, more to himself than anything, an almost disbelieving chuckle falling from his lips as he shakes his head. "It's just— it's been so long, hasn't it? I haven't seen you in—" "Two years." Namjoon nods barely, scuffing his shoes on the ground beneath him as he watches her closely. Y/N recognises that look— those pretty brown eyes, orbs visibly shining amongst the light of fresh dawn, the whites ostensibly to have enlarged as his pupils ask several questions of new and old, questions she's sure she's not at all ready to answer. Not now. Not yet. Not when she can't even wrap her head around him being here. Not when she can't understand what he's doing back here— what he's doing in front of her. So she's stilted, she's wary, watching him with close guarded eyes, cutting his stuttered speech off all too harshly. "It's been two years, Namjoon," she reiterates, crossing her arms over and slacking against the outer edge of the door.

"What are you doing here?"

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