#He just stands literally over my fucking head for no reason whistling and humming until I ask 'can I help you?'

[caluski]

Work is gonna suck so bad today. I wonder if I'll have any time to watch shows I downloaded. I feel like it's just gonna be messy and annoying and exhausting. I shouldn't even be doing those tasks at all 😭😭😭😭

[scuttling]

Long Time Coming

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 6,664 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad Bod Hotch, Oblivious Hotch, Flirting, Reader has a few one night stands, Semi-public sex, Unprotected sex, Blow jobs/Face fucking, Hairpulling, Fingering, Praise and degradation, Dirty talk, Accidental reveal of feelings, TW blood/cut Summary: You have been in lust (and love) with Aaron for a while, but his new look sends you off the deep end, and it's enough to make you do some pretty crazy things. *Inspired by @ssamorganhotchner and these three pics. Link to A03 or read below! You are fresh off yet another unsuccessful first date when Aaron wears the new suit. You, Emily, JJ, and Penelope are standing by the coffee maker, complaining about the pitfalls of online dating and how people are never they way they seem when you actually meet in person; you have the carafe in your hand, filling your mug, and when he walks in, face in a case file, his pants so tight you can make out his hips and thighs as clearly as if he were naked… You kind of lose your shit. And your grip.

The carafe shatters when it hits the tile floor, spraying shards of glass and hot coffee everywhere; Emily gasps, Penelope jumps back to avoid the splatter, JJ runs for a broom, and you just stand there, staring at Aaron—at his tight slacks, at his belt, at his shirt, tucked neatly inside, then at his dangling tie, and finally, his worried face.

“Are you alright?” he asks, because you have literally not moved a muscle since he arrived; your boots are covered in coffee—you are thankful you dressed casually today and aren’t wearing heels, or you’d be in a lot of pain—and your heart is racing, but otherwise you feel frozen, unable to move or look away.

You’ve wanted Aaron for a long time, and everyone knows it but him. It’s part of the reason you’re smothering yourself with online hookups and blind dates and one night stands: because he is off limits, and you’re desperately horny for him, and you need to have him fucked out of your mind one way or another.

The new suit further complicates things.

“Fine,” you say after a few more seconds, and JJ comes back with the broom and dustpan, so you bend down to help her clean up your mess. It wasn’t your brightest idea, because you are now at eye level with the tight crotch of his pants, and all you can think of is working the zipper open, pulling him carefully past the fly, sucking him off until those big hands slip into your hair and tug roughly when he comes.

God. You’re going to have to go on another bad date. Or ten.

“New suit?” Penelope asks conversationally, as if you aren’t having a sexual crisis about it three feet away. “Looks good, boss.” Aaron runs his hand down his body self-consciously, but all you see are thick fingers and stomach and hnnngg…

JJ pinches the back of your arm hard, makes a face that screams get it together!!, and you take a deep breath.

“I took some of my old ones in for alterations and the salesman convinced me they were severely outdated. Do you like this style better?”

For some reason, it feels like he’s looking right at you, and you nod, dreamy-eyed, sweep your tongue over your lips.

“Better,” you rasp, and Emily and Penelope agree, probably to take the emphasis off of your slack mouth and dopey one-word answers. You try to help JJ clean up, picking up the larger pieces of glass and dropping them into the dustpan despite her protests—because you are very unfocused, shouldn’t be messing with sharp objects—and when you cut your finger on a piece, she just sighs. Such a mom.

You wince, and Aaron frowns, comes toward you, putting you not only at dick height, but a manageable dick distance, if you were so inclined; really, it’s more if he were so inclined, because you are actually fully prepared to swallow his load right here in front of your friends—all he’d have to do would be snap his fingers and point to his crotch, and the FBI would be suing you for mental distress and using the money to pay for therapy for Emily, Penelope, and JJ.

“Let’s get this cleaned up,” he says, snapping you out of your very elaborate fantasy (typically your fantasies don’t involve court costs, but this is Aaron, so anything is possible.) He wraps his hand around your injured finger and pulls you up to standing with the other, and you just follow along as he leads you over to the sink, turns on the tap to let the water run over your cut. The way you’re looking up at him like he’s the best thing you’ve ever seen has to be painfully obvious, but he just reaches over for the first aid kit, takes out a bandage, and wraps it carefully around the tip of your finger. You sigh.

It may have started out as lust, but you’re pretty sure you’re also in love.

You have got to find a way to get him to notice you as more than just an agent, a teammate, a friend, and so: Operation ‘Get Hotch Out Of His Tight Pants’ begins. You fill the girls in on your master plan, and they fill in Derek and Spencer just so there are more people to laugh at you when you crash and burn, probably. But you’ve got a plan, will be pulling out all the stops, so you might not fail horribly after all. Hopefully.

God, you absolutely cannot fail. You can’t go out with another software engineer with the personality of a peanut or another investment banker who thinks buying you an appetizer means you owe him a blow job in the front seat of his Tesla. You will go fucking insane.

Today’s plan is T for tits, because yours are pretty awesome and almost no one who is attracted to women can resist them. You wear your usual white button down top, but you leave the top two buttons undone, and you add a red, lacy bra for a little additional temptation.

“Here are those consults you asked for,” you say after knocking lightly on the doorframe; Aaron waves you inside. You set them down on his desk, then glance over the open folder in front of him, make a curious noise. “What are you working on up here?”

You walk around his desk, so you’re standing next to him, and lean forward to look over the case file with one hand on the back of his chair and the other pressed against the desk. If he would look over, he would see right down your top, your breasts high and smushed together thanks to the lacy push up… but he looks straight down at the file, taps his pen against it.

“Murders in Detroit. I don’t think we’ll go—they look like mob hits to me, so I’m going to refer the case to Organized Crime.” You hum, turn the file toward you and lean in a little closer, letting your hair spill over your shoulder, the neck of your blouse fall open. Boobs and perfume are usually a one-two punch that is capable of bringing any man to his knees, and while he does turn to look at you, it feels entirely too respectful for your liking. You sigh softly, give up for today, and turn the file back.

“Well you know best, boss. Any time I don’t have to go to Detroit is alright by me.” You flash him a smile, and he reciprocates, and you head back downstairs for a cup of coffee and maybe a stale shame pastry.

The team looks up at you when you approach, and you shake your head.

“No luck,” you mutter, and Derek laughs, crosses his arms over his chest.

“Maybe you’re not very good at flirting. What did you do?” You roll your eyes—your flirting is not the problem, it’s Aaron’s morals and manners or whatever—and walk over to Spencer’s desk, demonstrate with him what you did to Aaron; you put your hand on the back of his chair, toss your hair over your shoulder, lean in, and Spencer swallows hard, licks his lips, and looks abruptly down at his hands. That reaction, you would have gladly taken.

Derek clears his throat, and so does Emily. Hmm.

“I’m good at flirting,” you say, straightening up; Spencer is blushing, and it’s super cute, so you pat him lightly on the head. “Maybe he’s an ass man. I’ll wear a skirt tomorrow and we’ll see if that gets the job done.”

“Good idea,” Derek says, and when you walk past him, he gives you a once over that makes you feel pretty damn good. “In the meantime, why don’t you come and demonstrate on me?”

There’s no denying he is one of the finest men you’ve ever seen in your life, and earlier on in your career you might have taken him up on it—it would have to be better than Marty McTesla, that’s a given—but you know he’s mostly teasing, even if there is a thin layer of actual desire beneath it all. You just fluff your hair and take your seat and mentally flip through your closet to try to come up with an outfit Aaron can’t refuse. You decide on a pencil skirt, because that’s got to be every boss's fantasy, right? You have one you never wear to the office because it’s a little sexy, tight on your hips and ass, with a zipper up the back that you can open a little and use to your advantage. When you walk into the bullpen that morning, JJ whistles, and you grin, do a little twirl.

“Thank you, thank you. This has to work, right?” You turn to face Emily, then turn away from Emily, butt right in her face. “Emily? This will work, right?”

“That’s... definitely going to work,” she murmurs, tapping the cap of her pen against her teeth, and you have to admit you have a good feeling about this one. For as great as breasts are, your ass is your best asset, and if the open top and red bra didn’t work, this has to be your ticket to some sweet, dirty loving, it just has to.

You all head up for the morning meeting, filing into the briefing room, and you give Aaron a soft greeting and a smile just like every day, and then offer to help him pass out whatever stack of papers he’s holding in his hands—fire drills and emergency protocol, or something boring like that. He accepts the help, and you take the fliers, but instead of walking around and handing them to each member of the team like he would, you bend over the table, reach across, and drop the pages in front of everyone.

JJ is the furthest away, and you practically have to climb onto the table to reach her; you grin and wink when she takes the papers out of your hand, and she shakes her head like you’re too much, but when you stand back up to hand Aaron the extras, he doesn’t seem the slightest bit interested.

He thanks you for your help, and you take your seat and listen to him go on about emergency exits and fire extinguishers and seriously start to contemplate moving to Europe to start a new life, or something else equally dramatic.

Because you don’t give up easily, you orchestrate one more attempt to get him to show some interest in you. You know he usually goes downstairs to the cafeteria for lunch, and that the elevator is a jam-packed nightmare because the main stairwell is currently under construction (which is probably why you needed to go over safety protocol, now that you think about it; shutting down the stairwell seems very unsafe.) You usually pack your lunch, but you can go buy an overpriced salad for the sake of your sex drive, so you wait for the elevator when he does, making small talk about your mornings until it dings and arrives on your floor.

He tries to let you in first, gentleman that he is, but that won’t work with your plan, so you insist, earning eye rolls from the other passengers on the elevator. You give Amy from Forensic Accounting a dirty look and then step in after him, lean back against him because there’s really no fucking room to even take a breath.

He’s taller than you, but with heels on your ass still fits pretty nicely against his thighs; a little too nicely, you think, as you get wet just from standing near him in the elevator, the heat of his body through your skirt. You really are a mess.

There are two more floors to go before the cafeteria, and no one gets off, but more people manage to cram into the elevator, which means you press more tightly against him to make room. Someone bumps into you roughly, which makes you unsteady on your feet; Aaron puts his hands low on your hips to keep you from wobbling, and your eyes literally roll back in your head, but he just leans in to mutter, “sorry” into your ear. You say nothing, because you’d probably moan if you opened your mouth, but you shake your head so he knows it’s not a problem.

When everyone gets off downstairs, you hurry to the restroom and don’t look back, turn on the faucet and splash some cold water against your overheated neck and chest. So much for that plan. All you managed to do was work yourself up into a fury.

While you’re in line to pay for your overpriced salad, you open up your dating app and secure yourself drinks with a hot lawyer for tonight. Seduction is clearly not working with Aaron, he’s clearly not interested, and you have to find a way to move on before you have a spontaneous workplace orgasm and get fired from the job you love—all of his tight new suits have been dark so far, but if he shows up in gray, you’re not going to have the will to survive anymore. You have to plan for the worst.

The lawyer is nice enough, but he’s too short, too thin; it’s hard to imagine Aaron’s body weight on top of you when he’s fucking you, but you’re nothing if not resourceful, so you move your hands to his head of thick, dark hair and focus on that—that, and his hot breath against your throat when he comes a little too soon and mutters “sorry” into your ear.

“It’s okay,” you pant, reaching between you to rub your clit. You close your eyes, tip your head back, clench around him; you imagine it’s Aaron inside you instead, and bury your face in his shoulder when you come.

He’s willing to stay, but you explain why it’s better if he leaves, and then you fall back into bed, fumble for your vibrator, and get off again so you’re not too distracted by reality to really enjoy your fantasy.

It’s a little twisted, but it is what it is. You’re standing in the breakroom a few days later, swiping through the dating app and bullshitting with Derek and Penelope, when this guy pops up on your screen. He’s not your usual type, younger and blonder than you prefer these days, a pilot, but something about his profile makes you pause; when it hits you, you blow out a breath and look up at your friends.

“So you guys know Operation ‘Get Hotch Out Of His Tight Pants’ is officially dead in the water,” you begin, and they nod, “and now I’m focusing my energy on trying to get over him. I went on a date with a guy that kind of looked like him, and that didn’t really help, but what if…” You turn your screen to face them; Derek nods like it might be crazy enough to work, but Penelope grimaces.

“No, I don’t think that’s going to work. It might actually be crossing a line,” she says with a frown, and you look to Derek for his input.

“It’s more of a coincidence than anything, right? It’s not like he’s unattractive and this is the only reason you’re going out with him. He’s a good looking guy,” he admits, and you’re really grateful he’s willing to help you rationalize this probably terrible idea into a potentially decent idea.

You send the pilot a message, and he wants to meet up; he suggests a bar near the both of you, and you know it’s risky, but you tell him you happen to make a great gin and tonic and that you have everything you need at home, if he’d like to meet you there instead.

He does, and you don’t even make him that drink, just take off his clothes, get him into your bed.

“That’s right, babe—wanna hear you lose it for me. Say my name, gorgeous,” he groans, fingers digging into your hips as he fucks you from behind, and you close your eyes, fist your hands in the sheets, and give him what he wants.

“Oh, fuck, Aaron. Fuck me harder.” His thrusts are already rough and punishing, but this is the best you’ve felt in a really long time, so you’re eager, desperate for more. “Yeah, Aaron, just like that.”

“Tell me my big cock feels so good in your pussy.” He slaps your ass, and you moan involuntarily, press back against him, panting.

“Your big cock feels so good, Aaron, so good in my pussy. Fuck me, Aaron, destroy me.” He grunts, tenses, and moves his hands to your shoulders, slamming your body tight against his as he comes. “Yes, don’t stop, Aaron, don’t stop,” you plead, hips working together, and when he smacks your ass again you come gasping his name, collapsing against the bed with a breathless sigh.

You feel a lot dirtier than you expected you would, even though it was kind of awesome, and ultimately Penelope was right; it was fun while it lasted, but it didn’t do a damn thing to help you forget about the only Aaron you actually want in your bed. Monday morning, Aaron comes into the office wearing a tight navy suit with a striped white shirt and a navy tie, and you follow him with your eyes from the glass double doors all the way up to his office, mouth open a little. Your eyes get heavy and your breathing picks up, which is the dumbest biological reaction to a man’s ass you’ve ever had—but god, it’s a perfect ass—and JJ has to actually lightly slap your cheek to get you to snap the fuck out of it.

“Are you horny right now?” she asks, a little grossed out. “I can’t handle you.”

“I know you guys all call him a tightass, but I mean, if the pants fit… and god, do they fit.” You pick up a case file and fan yourself with it. “He’s so fucking hot. What am I supposed to do? Getting railed by fake Aaron didn’t do shit; I think I might actually have to transfer.”

“You’re not transferring. You just have to get over it.”

“Are you kidding? She’s like a cat in heat when he’s around,” Derek says with a smirk. “I think I’m getting horny just because she’s horny.”

“Okay, so why can’t I have that effect on him?” you ask with your arms open. “Do you think it’s the pheromones? Maybe they’re incompatible. Smell me—does it turn you on?” you ask Spencer, presenting your neck, and he looks like a deer in the headlights, then leans in to sniff you.

“Uh… you smell nice?” he says with a shrug and a half smile. “I think it’s just your perfume, though.”

“Put your face near her boobs,” Derek says, and Spencer starts to lean in again. “I think the pheromones are stronger there.” He pauses about halfway to your chest.

“Actually, they’re stronger near the genitals, but I don’t think that’s appropriate.”

“What’s going on down there?” You freeze and then turn to look up at Aaron’s office, where he leans against the doorframe; Spencer stands up comically fast, and you take a step back, clearing your throat. Aaron’s scowling—it’s really sexy and it’s making your heart beat in your stupid, traitor pussy—and then he sighs visibly. “We have a case, come on.”

The case is only a half hour away, so you drive, which is horrible, because you are with Aaron and Derek, and Derek lets you sit in the front just to watch you squirm.

It gets bad before you even pull out of the parking garage, because Aaron puts his hand on the back of your headrest to look behind him and reverse the SUV, and you look over at his body—his stomach, his lap, his thighs—and then quickly face forward when he puts the car into drive. You’re flushed, breathing heavily, and when he looks you over quizzically, asks if you’re alright, you just clear your throat and nod.

“Allergies,” Derek supplies from the back, and you mentally thank him for the save, but you kind of also want to smack him for putting you in this position in the first place.

You’re practically turned on the entire ride, even as you go over the details of the case, because his legs are spread and your eyes keep moving to his crotch; at one point, you think you notice his already unfairly tight pants getting a little tighter, but it’s just a trick of light.

By the time you arrive at the precinct, you are more than ready for fresh air, to put some distance between yourself and Aaron. You’re out of the car almost as soon as he turns off the engine, which probably looks weird as hell, but for your sanity you can’t give it too much thought.

The head detective and a junior detective give you a run down on the case while the other half of your team meets with officers at the crime scene. The head detective, a tall, handsome man in his forties, is looking at you like you’re a juicy steak and he hasn’t eaten in months; Derek notices, turns to you with a raised eyebrow and mouths ‘pheromones,’ Aaron is clearly unhappy about the detective’s lack of professionalism, and you couldn’t really care less about the attention. You just want to do your job and go home and touch yourself to thoughts of your boss… as one does.

The local police already have a board made up, so the three of you travel to speak with some witnesses, head back to the precinct, work the tip lines. Aaron seems to be looking at you more than usual, and when you get up to stretch your legs, he’s right behind you, following you out into the hall.

“Are you sure you're alright today?” he asks with a serious expression, hands on his hips. Your mouth waters. “You’ve been acting a little strange.”

“Stranger than normal?” You try to smile, to lighten the mood, but as oblivious as he’s been about everything else, he’s always been able to tell when you try to hide your emotions with humor.

“The last couple weeks? Yes.” He moves a little closer, and you try your best not to let it affect you—or at least not to let it show when it does. “You know by now that you can come to me anytime, for anything.” He doesn’t present it as a question, but it’s clear on his face that he’s looking for an answer.

“I know. I’m going through something… stupid,” you say with a shrug. “Something I should be able to handle, but it’s harder than I imagined.” He frowns, flicks his eyes over your face.

“Let me help you.”

“You can’t; trust me, you can’t,” you say, pleading with your voice, begging him to drop it. “I’ll get through it.” You shut your eyes briefly, exhale, and he reaches down to take one of your hands in his.

“Are you in trouble?” This is the most intimately he’s ever touched you, and it’s not just your body that sings; you know you’re in love with him, have been for a while, but focusing on the horny feelings is easier. It makes it feel like you have less to lose.

“No, it’s nothing like that. I just need some time. Thank you.” You squeeze his hand, and then Derek pokes his head into the hall behind him.

“We got a tip about the unsub barricading a house downtown; the detective is mobilizing SWAT,” he says; when he glances down at your hands, you pull yours softly out of Aaron’s grasp.

“What do you want us to do, boss?” you ask, effectively ending your conversation, and he tells you to get suited up with comms and Kevlar so the three of you can head to the new scene. Aaron is, unsurprisingly, a complete badass, storming the house along with SWAT, you at his side; it’s his way of reminding you that he trusts you, that it can and should go both ways—he is so perfectly predictable, reassuring with gestures over words even in a situation like this one. It does nothing to help you stop wanting him.

He’s a little rough with the unsub (and that doesn’t help either,) looks ruffled and kind of pissed when you climb in the SUV to head back to the precinct. Spencer, JJ, and Emily meet you there, and you take the opportunity to vent about how indescribably good Aaron has looked all day—Spencer bows out of the conversation early, but JJ and Emily are kind enough to listen to your insane, horny ramblings.

“He’s just so hot—he always has been, but the new suits? They’re so tight, and his shirts show off his tummy, and his pants show off his thighs… You guys will never understand the things I want to do to him.”

“Okay, he’s handsome enough, but you’re nasty about it—I can’t handle you,” JJ says, not for the first time. You groan in response.

“How can you say that? Have you fucking seen him? I’m not supposed to think nasty thoughts when he walks around looking like that?”

You feel yourself getting a little out of hand, and Emily and JJ look like they’re trying to shut you up, but you can’t stop yourself. It’s like the floodgates have opened.

“He’s never going to know what I want to do to him… what I want him to do to me. I tried so hard, and he didn’t even look at me. All I wanted to do was get on my knees for him and grab his ass so he could fuck my throat as hard as fucking possible—is that so much to ask for?” You pause, but neither of them say anything, just look scandalized. “I guess I’m going to have to name my vibrator Hotch now, since that’s clearly the closest I’ll ever get to him giving me an orgasm.”

“Do you really mean that?”

You jump a fucking foot, spin around, almost knocking Emily and JJ over in the process; Aaron is in front of you, his brow furrowed, arms crossed over his vest (he hasn’t taken that thing off yet? You threw yours on the table like the minute you got back), and your mouth opens and your eyes close at the same time.

Oh fucking fuck.

“We’re gonna… go,” Emily says awkwardly, and you open your eyes abruptly when Aaron speaks again.

“No, we’re going to go; come with me,” he tells you, and he turns and heads down the hall; you look back at Emily and JJ, swallow hard, and follow him, your heart beating fast.

He steps into a small room with a copy machine, table, shelves of paper and envelopes and other supplies, and closes the door behind you, engages the lock. You are torn between being very worried he’s going to fire you and super turned on, because this is definitely a fantasy you’ve had before.

“Aaron,” you begin, running a hand through your hair. “I’m sorry. I think it was the adrenaline; it makes me run my mouth and I can’t stop it, you know that.” He’s facing away from you, his hands on his hips again, and you can see the way his body moves when he sighs.

“Did you mean it, though?” When he turns to look at you, he doesn’t look angry, he looks… nervous. “Do you want me?” His reaction is unexpected—not great, but not necessarily bad—and you bite your lip, nod.

“Yeah. So fucking bad. And I’m sorry—” That’s as far into your apology as you get before his mouth is on yours, his hands on your face, lips pressing against you for a rough, eager kiss. Your hands move to his waist, pulling him closer by the vest, and he lifts you up onto the table, tugs down the v-neck of your t-shirt, mouths at your throat.

“You think I didn’t look at you?” he says when he pulls away for a breath, tipping your chin down so you’ll look into his eyes. “You think I didn’t see that lacy red bra, your perfect ass bent over in the tight skirt? You think I didn’t feel it pressed against me in the elevator, that I didn’t want to push that skirt up and sink inside you and take you there in front of everyone?”

You moan, chest heaving, twist your fingers in his hair and pull him in for another kiss, dripping and trembling at his admission.

“I would have let you,” you murmur against his lips, and there’s no doubt in your mind that you would have, if that’s what he’d wanted. “I would let you do anything: not just let you, but I’d want it, beg for it. I meant what I said—I’d get on my knees for you, anytime, anywhere, do whatever you want me to do. I want to be yours.”

He catches your mouth in another rough kiss, then puts his hands on your waist, guides you off the table, and flips open his belt, the fly of his pants.

“Oh god. What are you doing?” you ask, and he slides down his zipper, pulls you with him until his back hits the door.

“I’m giving you what you asked for,” he rasps, staring into your eyes, his gaze smoldering. It’s so fucking hot your pussy clenches.

You lick your lips, drop to your knees on the tile floor so hard it hurts, tug his pants open and pull out his thick, hard, veiny cock.

Your dreams and fantasies did not do it justice.

“Fuck. Thank you,” you mumble, looking up at him, and he wraps his hands in your hair, pulls tightly. You moan just from that and the heft of him in your hand. “Thank you.”

“Shh.” He scrapes his fingers over your scalp, hums as you start stroking him, licking the head. “Don’t thank me—I should be thanking you, beautiful, perfect girl. In what world do I get this?” There are lots of things you want to say to that, but you’ve waited long enough, will have to say them later.

You lick your lips, collect lots of saliva, and take him into your mouth, get your hands on his ass and dig your nails in. Aaron groans, tightens his fingers in your hair, and when you look up at him it feels like a fever dream, like it’s not real but a delicious figment of your imagination.

For a minute or two, you stroke him with a tight, wet mouth, and it’s got you aching between your legs, but he’s supposed to be fucking your throat, technically, if he’s giving you what you asked for. You pull off, tell him that, and he tugs your head back roughly, guides you back onto his cock and starts thrusting into your mouth, earning vibrating moans around it.

“God, you’re so perfect. How long have you been thinking about this? How long have you touched yourself to the thought of me fucking your pretty face?” He picks up the pace, pushes deeper when he sees you can handle it, and you squeeze his ass, feel your eyelids flutter as he uses your mouth, pulls your hair. “Are you a whore for me?” he grinds out, and the moan that rips from your throat is inhuman, embarrassing, and absolutely accurate. “Yes you are, baby, yes you are. My pretty whore, on your knees, mouth stretched wide and filled with cock.”

You’ve never been so turned on from a blow job, but this is Aaron, hot and dirty and forceful, everything you imagined and more. You squeeze him tighter, encourage rougher treatment, and he presses his hands against the back for your head, slams his dick in so deep it aches; you don’t gag, but it’s a near thing, and when he pulls you off you gasp for breath and whimper at the loss at the same time.

“Enough of that, baby. You were perfect, so good for me, almost choking on my cock, but I bet your pussy is wet and aching. Do you want me inside it?”

“Holy—yes, fuck, please. Please,” you breathe, and he helps you to your feet and then pushes you against the door, gets your pants down. His rough treatment has you whining, gripping the hair on the back of his head, and you kick off your boots and socks so you can step out of your pants completely. “Keep all this on,” you tell him, pants and shirt and tie and Kevlar vest and all, and he nods, kisses you deeply, presses two fingers inside you.

“Fuck,” he groans when you receive him easily, soft and wet and open, and he uses his free hand to sweep down your top, slipping the buttons loose so he can get a better view of your tits and black lace bra that’s holding them. “So beautiful, and finally mine,” he mutters against your throat, and you whine, let your head fall back against the door, and give in to the pleasure of his thick fingers moving inside you.

“Finally mine,” you murmur, tugging his hair, slamming down against his hand, and when you come it’s like a miracle; you cry out, clamp down, and wrap your free hand around his bicep and squeeze until you’re lightheaded, dazed, desperate for another.

You kiss, deep and passionate and filthy, and Aaron slides his fingers into your mouth, pumps them a few times, then kisses you again.

“Good girl. Are you ready for my cock now?” You pant, gasp, and nod your head, and he pushes your shirt off your shoulders, lifts your legs so you’ll wrap them around his waist, and pushes inside you. You both moan, kiss, moan again, and then you wrap your arms around his broad back, hook your fingers in his vest, and hold on while he pounds your body roughly against the door.

“Oh, Aaron, fuck. Yeah. Want you to slam your body against mine; want to feel it, want to feel all of you.” He looks into your eyes, breathing hard, fucks up into you, hands on your ass, his hips and torso pinning you in place.

“Sweet, pretty, slutty girl,” he pants, spreading you open and shoving himself inside your pussy. “You tried tempting me, and oh, did it work. I might not have shown it…” He ducks in to kiss the base of your throat and you cling tighter, rock against his hips. “But it worked. You dressed like a whore just for me, just so I’d notice you; do you I know went home and stroked my cock and came with your name on my lips?”

“Holy shit. That’s so hot.” You move a hand to his hair again, can’t not thread your fingers there now that it’s allowed. “Could have fucked me like this then. Could have come in my pussy, not your hand.”

“We’ll make up for lost time,” he promises, and he thrusts up with his whole body, so you can feel it pressed against yours—shoulders, chest, stomach, all the very best parts of him. “I’m not too much for you? Can you take it?”

“Perfect for me,” you gasp, holding tightly to his vest at his shoulder and his shirt at his hip, bouncing into his thrusts. “So perfect, want you. I can take it. I can take it, Aaron.” Your mouths meet for a messy, hot kiss, lots of tongue, and you groan. “Give it to me, give it all to me.”

He bends his knees a little more, fucks you so rough and hard your mouth falls open and all you can do is whimper, clutch him, gracelessly kiss back when he presses his lips to yours.

He comes first, holds tightly to your hip and pumps inside you, fills you and then some, so it drips out while he’s still inside. It feels sinful, even after everything, and with a few rough drags of his palm over your lace covered nipple, you tighten and grip him and gasp out his name.

You both slow, and then he turns you, leans back against the door for a little relief after holding you up for so long. He nuzzles into your hair, and you bury your face in his neck, and you kiss soft and sweet until you’re feeling stable enough to hop out of his arms and put your clothes back on. He rights his as well, and when you’re both put together he wraps you up in a hug, kisses you, holds you with soft hands on your cheeks.

“I really have waited so long for this.” He brushes his lips over yours, and you sigh. “You never indicated… I was trying to be professional. Then out of nowhere you were leaning over my desk and bending over the table, and I was a little blown away.” You nod, can see that, pull him down for a kiss.

“It’s the goddamn suits,” you say with a half smile, and he gives you a curious look. “Your new, better fitting suits? They fit you so fucking well it’s almost illegal; I’m thinking of pursuing charges against your tailor for reckless endangerment on behalf of my libido, and the coffee carafe, and my poor, worn out vibrator.” He chuckles, hugs you closer, squeezes you so tightly against his body you almost pass out from all the good things you feel.

“Maybe we can strike a deal,” he murmurs, pushing your hair back behind your ear, and you bite your lip, nod.

“Yeah, I’m sure you’ll think of something you can do to make it worth my while.” After a little more hugging and kissing, the two of you figure it’s time to emerge from the supply closet; you don’t see your team anywhere, which surprises you, but when you get to your phone and pull up your texts, it all makes sense.

Derek: Congrats on the sex. The four of us headed home because no one wants to ride with the two of you and your pheromones.

Emily: Yay, you did it!! Drinks on me next time we go out!

JJ: You guys are loud; don’t make a habit of that.

Penelope: I hear congrats are in order! And by hear, I don’t mean hear. There’s NOT an audio clip or anything, so don’t worry about that!!

Spencer: Emily took an audio clip. Is it normal for girls to enjoy being called a whore? You don’t have to answer that.

You take a very deep breath, give him the gist of the messages—you’re on your own, they heard at least part of it, there is some potentially damning evidence that needs to be destroyed—and you leave the precinct to head home in a better mood than you’ve been in in a very long time.

Aaron takes you out for a late dinner, and he spends the night at your place, falls asleep warm and solid and very naked in the middle of your bed.

Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed @averyhotchner

[hxseok-honee]

sundress || part 7

written portion under the cut!

sundress [part 7] || she needs him.

previous || masterlist || next

a/n : [tell me how good it feels to be needed] needy x ariana grande

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__________________________

Friday, 17 September, 9:50pm

The moment Yoongi and Y/n are stepping into Gryffindor common room, having come down the stairs from her room hand in hand, Jungkook is on his feet. His eyes are trained solely on Yoongi, and there’s a kind of burning anger there that has the rest of their friends tensing, especially when the Gryffindor heads right for them. Yoongi wonders with brief amusement if Jungkook’s going to hit him.

And he does try -- rather, he tries to grab at Yoongi’s shirt. But Y/n’s stepping in the way just as Jungkook’s reaching out for the Slytherin, and he has to raise his arms and stop short, his sneakers slipping on the rug beneath his feet as he struggles to avoid making contact with her instead. He looks like an idiot, and he knows it, but the thought of almost having put his hands on Y/n sobers Jungkook quickly.

They stand there in silence for a moment, their friends watching with bated breath as Jungkook looks at Y/n with wide eyes, shocked that she’s looking at him so coldly. He barely notices that Yoongi’s looking at her, too, his gaze examining her fondly. Because somehow, even though he knows her better than she knows herself, she always manages to surprise him.

“I think… maybe we should all sit down and talk like real people.” Jin speaks from one of the loveseats, Jimin perched next to him. Y/n doesn’t move when Jungkook doesn’t, refusing to step out of the way until her ex is backing down. And he eventually does, lowering his eyes and moving to one of the armchairs. He’s acutely aware of Y/n pulling Yoongi to the other loveseat, directly across from Jungkook.

“Okay… not totally sure what we’re supposed to talk about, since it’s not like anything’s going to change…” Namjoon speaks from where he half-sits on the ledge of an open window, a joint in his hand. Tae’s standing behind him, leaning on the wall, Namjoon’s back pressed into his chest. The Gryffindor sighs lightly, pinching at the bridge of his nose, and Y/n feels distinctly bad for him -- he’s the one that has to live with Jungkook, and she knows all too well how annoying he can get.

“Look, let’s just start with the facts so that I don’t have to listen to Jungkook theorizing and scheming all night.” Tae’s roommate turns to him, clearly offended, but the bookworm puts a hand up, silencing him before he can even say anything. He looks at the pair on the couch. “How did this happen?” He gestures vaguely to Yoongi and Y/n when he says this, not wanting to outright call them a couple, considering the ticking time bomb sitting in the armchair.

Y/n looks to Yoongi in slight alarm, careful to mask her expression because she knows Jungkook’s watching closely. But they hadn’t had a chance to discuss a backstory, and she doesn’t want them to say any conflicting information. It seems Yoongi has it handled, though, his face perfectly composed as he makes something up.

“Over the summer -- just a drunk night. We decided to forget it happened because it was better for our friendship, but… I guess I just couldn’t.” He looks to her when he says it, almost smirking when he sees the surprise in her eyes -- surprise that he’d made it sound like he was the one who’d caught feelings. She makes a mental note to talk to him about it later, but Jungkook’s already talking, unable to resist taking a jab at the boy.

“That’s bullshit. Y/n wouldn’t just sleep with you and let it go. She’s not a whore like you.” Yoongi finds it funny, if he’s honest, but he knows by the way that Y/n tenses next to him that she very much does not. So he pulls his hand from hers and slides it over her leg, squeezing at her thigh and letting it rest there, his thumb tracing circles of comfort into her skin. Jungkook’s eyes flick down to watch it happen, and when he raises his gaze again, there’s renewed irritation there. Yoongi almost feels bad that he finds the Gryffindor’s anger amusing. Almost.

“Well, I don’t know, Jeon. Maybe if you hadn’t fucked up and dumped her, she wouldn’t have spent the summer with me. Then that drunk night wouldn’t have happened. So… should I say thank you?” Y/n purses her lips and hides her face in Yoongi’s shoulder, somehow both exasperated and deeply amused by his words. Jimin whistles from the couch, not even bothering to mask how entertained he is by what’s happening here. Y/n lifts her head, figuring she should try to ease the tension somehow.

“Look, Jungkook. There’s nothing you can do about this, okay? Yoongi and I are together now, so I would just… appreciate it if you’d let this go so we can rebuild our friendship.” The group nods, finding her words reasonable. It’s the truth -- what’s done is done, so they might as well all move on and find a way to return to normalcy.

“I don’t believe you.” Namjoon throws his head back and groans loudly when Jungkook refuses to cooperate, Jin dropping his head to his hands because they’re really never going to get anywhere like this. Jungkook doesn’t even notice. “You want me to let it go, huh? Almost like you’re just pretending to date so that I will.”

“I feel like that says more about the fact that you won’t leave her alone than anything it says about Yoongi and Y/n.” It comes from Tae, who is clearly getting very frustrated. He’s a man of knowledge, fact. He puts weight in words and sees the world for what it is. So he’s very annoyed at Jungkook’s delusions -- at the fact that he won’t just accept the situation. That, even in a world where he might be right, he’s not seeing that Yoongi and Y/n would only pretend because he’s being relentless and they’ve had to turn to a drastic last resort.

“Prove it. Prove you’re dating. You two hold hands and shit all the time, this doesn’t prove a thing.” Jungkook all but ignores Tae, hyper-focusing on Yoongi and Y/n across from him. Yoongi turns to Y/n with a knowing look, one that says ‘What’d I tell you? Cringey TV shit’. It makes her smile widely, even as she’s reaching to place her hand on the side of Yoongi’s neck, pulling him in. He slides his hand from her thigh to her waist when his lips fall to hers, the action already easier than it’d been less than hour ago.

They can hear the various noises of reaction from their friends -- Jin hums in contemplation as Jimin quite literally starts to laugh, and Namjoon is choking on the hit he’d just taken, Tae whispering ‘oh, okay then’ behind him.

Yoongi presses one last kiss to Y/n’s mouth before pulling away with an obnoxious smack of his lips, winking discreetly at her and smiling when she rolls her eyes. They turn to the group, Yoongi taking her hand in his and pulling it into his lap as he threads his fingers through hers. Their friends seem relatively unaffected, if only amused or intrigued by them, but Jungkook.

Jungkook’s looking at them with hardened rage, because there’s really no way he can explain that one without ending up at a romantic relationship between them. That fact clearly bothers him enough that he’s leaning forward, elbows on his knees as he looks at them, and Y/n can see the childish malice flashing in his eyes. And she knows he’s about to say something bad.

“Tell me, Yoongi -- are you enjoying my sloppy seconds?” The entire room is standing immediately -- Yoongi because he’s perfectly certain he’s about to put Jungkook in the Hospital Wing, and everyone else because they have to make sure Yoongi doesn’t do exactly that.

Y/n had seen it coming -- had seen the way Jungkook had shut down just before saying it, because she knows what that looks like -- so she’s able to react the fastest out of everyone. Latching onto the back of Yoongi’s shirt before he’s able to get too close to Jungkook, she yanks him back to her, slipping her arms around her waist and holding tight. Jin and Namjoon have moved to Jungkook’s side, hands on his chest to stop him from moving -- because at the end of the day, Jungkook’s the athlete here. He could easily knock someone back if he wants to, so they know they need more than one person to stop him from acting rash.

Y/n slides her hand over Yoongi’s mouth, knowing he completely lacks a filter and not wanting him to make things worse because he’s angry. She pulls him backwards toward the stairs to her room, turning when she gets there and urging him up the steps before waving at the rest of the room.

“Well, this has been great -- goodnight!” And then she’s taking the steps two at a time to catch up to Yoongi, who’s stomping angrily up to her door. He makes his way inside, pacing the room as Y/n shuts her door behind her, and then he’s turning to her, his eyes alight.

“After that, you still won’t let me kick his ass?!” She knows that, if all their friends are still downstairs, then they can definitely hear him yelling. The whole house can probably hear him yelling. She rushes forward, taking his face in her hands and shushing him, because she really needs him to calm down.

“Yoongi, it’s fine. I don’t care, it doesn’t bother me--”

“It should!” He’s ripping his face from her hold, going back to pacing as he pulls at his hair in frustration. She sighs, moving to him again and wrapping a hand around his wrist. He tries to pull that free, too, but she holds tight, so he turns to her with annoyance. “How can you just be okay with what he said?!”

“I’m not. I’m not okay with what he said.” He stops, breathing deeply to calm down when he sees how serious she is. Turning so he’s facing her properly, he waits for her to continue. “I’m not okay with it, Yoongi, but right now I’m more concerned about you.”

“Why? I’m not the one he was insulting--”

“It’s not about him, Yoongi. I will deal with what he said later. Let’s just… go to bed? Hm?” It hurts, what Jungkook had said to her. That he’d called her a cheater over text and then blatantly insulted her to her face. That he’d let his pride get so in the way of his head that he couldn’t see how terrible he was being.

But it’s Yoongi that worries her. Because he’s fiercely protective, whether he’s aware of it or not. Because she knows how quickly his mouth can get him in trouble when he’s seeing red. Because her problems with Jungkook are hers, and she doesn’t want Yoongi burning a bridge with Jungkook over this, no matter how hard her ex is trying to start the fire himself.

So she’s pulling him to her bed, shuffling toward him once they’re both under the comforter. Taking his face in her hands again -- and smiling when he doesn’t pull away this time -- she’s squishing his cheeks, glad to see the way he rolls his eyes. It means he’s calming down, however reluctantly.

“You okay?” He sighs when she asks, sliding his arm around her waist and pulling her close. Her fingers move to his ears, where she plays with his piercings, an unconscious habit. Pushing his nose against hers, he doesn’t respond, only searching her eyes.

“Are you?” A small smile, a nod. But he doesn’t find the reassurance he’s looking for in her eyes, so he knows she’s lying. But he lets it go for now, scooting around until he can tuck her into his chest, his chin coming to rest on her head as they drift off to sleep, trying to put this day behind them.

--

Saturday, 18 September, 3:48am

It’s the shaking that wakes Yoongi up. Not the gasped sob that precedes it, muffled into a hand desperate to keep her quiet. Not the sniffling that follows, tearful and devastated. It’s the shaking — the pure force of the cry that tears its way through her body, jostling the mattress and pulling Yoongi out of his slumber.

Y/n keeps her curtains drawn at night, blocking any moonlight that would have filtered in through her window, so he can’t see her in the dark — not until he’s blinked enough times that silhouettes start to take shape around him. When he notices the shadow sitting at the edge of the bed, he’s sliding his hand across the sheet next to him, almost as if to check that she’s not there, sleeping peacefully beside him. She’s not.

Scooting his way along the mattress until he’s close enough to touch her, he’s sitting up, the comforter falling off of him as he goes.

“Hey…” Yoongi puts his hand on her back to draw her attention, his palm flat against the curve of her spine as he leans over to try to see her face. Y/n jumps, clearly not having noticed that he was awake.

“Shit— did I wake you?” She gives one last sniffle, and he can see her wiping frantically at her face. He doesn’t respond, only moving closer until he can press his chest to her left shoulder, trying to make as much physical contact as possible so she knows she can lean on him.

“Talk to me… please?” He doesn’t need to see when she shakes her head. He can feel it, the way her whole body moves to say no — to shut him out. It leaves a dreadfully bad taste in his mouth, guilt crawling up the back of his neck.

“I’m just gonna... I need to shower.” Yoongi furrows a brow at her sudden remark, pressing his chest closer to her, his face coming to rest on her shoulder.

“Now? It’s the middle of the night…” Y/n moves to stand, Yoongi’s fingers clinging to the back of her shirt until she’s too far away for him to keep holding on. She heads to the bathroom, the sudden flick of the light blinding him for a few seconds. He blinks it away, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and perching there, just as she had. He hears the shower turn on, and his heart aches at the thought that Y/n’s only doing this so she can cry beneath the sound of running water again. The guilt that had been dancing along the edges of his skin flows into his chest now, settling there like a ton of bricks.

He’s so busy staring down at the floor, trying to figure out how to make this better, that he doesn’t notice Y/n’s slowly making her way back to him until she’s standing over him.

“Yoongi?” The Slytherin blinks, lifting his head in surprise at the call of his name. Y/n stares down at him, taking in the way the pale yellow light from the bathroom washes over his features — it shows her the darkness in his eyes, the turmoil sitting there. She reaches out to him, wiggling her fingers slowly until he’s taking her hand in his, waiting for her to tell him what’s on her mind.

“Come with me?” Eyes widening, he stares up at her silently, unsure why she’s asking him this. But he finds himself nodding, knowing that, whatever it is, she needs him. She needs him there with her, so he’s rising from the bed and following her to the bathroom, because — right now, in this moment — he needs her to need him. He’s too scared to think of the alternative — that he’s caused this pain in her eyes, that it’s his fault.

Compared to the bedroom, it’s uncomfortably bright here in the bathroom, so much so that they just stand in the middle of the room for a few seconds, unsure how to proceed. Finally, as if coming to his senses, Yoongi’s looking toward the door, finding the light switch easily. With an apprehensive glance in Y/n’s direction, he moves toward it, setting his fingers on the switch and flicking it down.

They’re bathed in darkness immediately, but there’s a small window on the far wall, one that lets in just enough moonlight that they won’t hurt themselves trying to navigate the room.

Yoongi steps slowly back to where he’d been before, hovering in front of Y/n and waiting for her to tell him what to do. After a moment of nothing, she’s reaching out to him, taking his fingers in her own and guiding his hands to the hem of her t-shirt. She leaves them there, looking to him to continue.

With a nervous breath, Yoongi grasps at the material, lifting the shirt up and off her body as gingerly as he can, his eyes on the wall behind her head. He only glances at her once he can see her crossing her arms in front of her chest, covering herself.

He steps in just enough that he can set his hands on her hips and push at the waistband of her pajama pants, turning away and giving her privacy once she’s able to kick them the rest of the way off, working slowly at his own clothes while he waits.

When his shorts and shirt are pooled on the floor beneath his feet, he’s glancing over his shoulder at her. He can see out of the corner of his eye that there’s no break in the expanse of her skin where her panties should be — she’d removed them while his back was turned. For some reason — and although they’ve been in this situation before — the idea of that makes his face uncomfortably warm.

They make eye contact as he hooks his thumbs into the elastic of his boxers experimentally, but when he sees how her eyes widen just slightly in panic at the idea of him being fully naked — never mind the fact that she’s fully naked — Yoongi pulls his thumbs free, deciding it’s best that he leaves them on.

He waits until she’s stepped past the shower curtain to follow, giving her time to curl into herself again because this is objectively the weirdest thing they’ve ever done, and he’s not sure either of them is ready for him to pretend he’s completely comfortable seeing her naked. She pokes her head out after a moment, hair and face wet, and he knows he can join her.

He’s not exactly sure what he’s supposed to be doing here — if he should be standing on the far end of the shower like he had been the only other time they’d done this, or if he’s supposed to be showering, too. After all, it hadn’t been his idea this time.

He’s just about decided to keep his distance from her when he sees her silhouette moving toward him. It’s a lot darker behind the shower curtain, which he’s partially glad for because he really can’t see any part of Y/n that he’s not supposed to, but the other part of him is stressed because he isn’t really in the mood to slip and die tonight.

Y/n’s wet hands find his forearms, pulling him slowly toward her and into the stream of hot water. They’re close enough now that they can see each other’s faces, but she’s dropping her forehead to his shoulder soon enough, arms slipping around his waist loosely.

“Can you help me?” As if running on autopilot, Yoongi’s moving, hands fumbling for the bottle of shampoo on the shelf to their left. Squirting some on top of her head — admittedly difficult since she’s got her face buried in the crook of his neck — he scrubs gently at her hair. Knowing she likes having her head scratched when she’s having a bad day, he rubs the pads of his fingertips against her scalp, feeling both accomplished and like he’s just made a terrible mistake when she shivers and unintentionally pulls him closer, almost no space left between them.

Lowering an arm to the small of her back so she doesn’t fall, Yoongi walks her backwards until she’s fully under the water, where he rinses her hair for her. He’s about to reach for the conditioner when Y/n lifts her head, grabbing the shampoo herself. Pouring some into her palm and setting the bottle down, she meets his eyes before letting her eyes drift up to his hair, now wet from standing under the water with her.

Wordlessly, Yoongi lowers his face to her shoulder just as she had, giving her permission to wash his hair for him and sighing when she drags her nails through his hair. With his eyes shut and the soothing feeling of Y/n breathing against him, he’s left with his thoughts. It’s not long before the guilt is rearing its ugly head again.

“I’m sorry…” Things had been quiet between them, Y/n working at rinsing the soap from his roots, when he’d whispered it. She hears him perfectly, and, although he doesn’t lift his eyes to look at her, she knows he’s waiting to see if she’ll respond. When she doesn’t — only slowing her movements in his hair — he continues. “If I hadn’t started all of this — if I had just talked to you before telling him we were together — then he wouldn’t have…” He doesn’t finish, but he doesn’t have to.

Then he wouldn’t have said those things about you. Then you wouldn’t be hurting right now.

“If you’re mad at me—“

“I’m not mad at you, Yoongi.” Yoongi lifts his head now, searching her eyes for any sign of a lie. There isn’t one — he only finds hints of amusement, a smile dancing on the edges of her lips. “I’m not mad at you. I know why you did it — I get why you did it. I’m okay with it — with this.”

Yoongi’s not sure he’s ever felt as much relief as he does now, his body almost deflating from the pent up stress leaving him. Y/n grins when she sees how his entire being untenses, his shoulders dropping as he sighs. Reaching up, she pushes his hair out of his face, almost laughing when she sees how his eyes twinkle with renewed energy. She hums, pretending to think about what she’s going to say next, because there is one thing she’s decided in the last few minutes — in the span of time it’d taken her to see how the guilt of potentially being responsible for her pain had torn at Yoongi. At the only boy in the world who would do anything in his power to never hurt her.

“There is one person I’m mad at, though.” Yoongi raises an eyebrow, knowing what she’s going to say but still waiting for the name to leave her lips. “Jeon Jungkook.”

Yoongi feels himself swell with something akin to pride when he sees how the sadness that had been in her eyes turns to anger, almost mischievous in the glint of the moonlight. She continues, eyeing him with an evil grin.

“I think that, no matter how dumb and ill-prepared your plan had been… you really might have done something there, Yoongi.” The Slytherin beams, loving the way revenge looks on her as she stands there in his arms at damn near 4 o’clock in the morning.

“Yeah? You got something in mind?” Y/n hums conspiratorially, a bubble of laughter escaping her as she loops her arms around his shoulders and pulls him closer, because they’re really standing in her shower scheming about how to get back at her horrible ex, like this is normal for them.

“I mean, I just think we could really make this work… We’d just have to work out the logistics of the ‘relationship’, but nothing between us will really change since we’re already so close.” She gestures vaguely down at their current state for emphasis, and Yoongi throws his head back to laugh at how incredibly strange this entire situation is. He nods when he’s done, running his hands up and down her back, hot water flowing over his arms as he wraps them tighter around her waist.

“Well, I know that being naked with someone might not be the most obvious act of affection to you, but to me, there’s nothing better.” Y/n rolls her eyes at his playful smirk when he says it, because at the end of the day, Min Yoongi’s still an idiot.

”So… since we’re clearly in quite the romantic situation here, I think this is the perfect place to ask.” Yoongi smiles when he says it, shockingly sweet given the teasing lilt of his voice. “Y/n, would you do me the honor of pretending to be my girlfriend so that we can tear your dumbass ex-boyfriend apart from the inside out with how perfect we are together?” Y/n snorts, nodding once.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” With a toothy smile, Yoongi lifts his right hand to her hair, playing with the ends of it as he hums contemplatively.

“Should we make it official?” Y/n eyes at him suspiciously.

“Listen buddy, I might be naked right now, but I’m not having sex with you.” With an annoyed huff and a mumbled 'you're an idiot', Yoongi rolls his eyes, grabbing a fistful of her hair and tugging until it’s pulled taut, giving him full control of her head. Leaning in, he angles her so he can slot his lips against hers comfortably, almost smiling when she reciprocates right away.

Yeah. This is definitely getting easier.

Y/n’s arms tighten around Yoongi’s neck as her hand lifts to card her fingers through the hair on the back of his head. She barely notices that the arm he has around her waist is pulling her in, only registering it when she feels her chest press flush to his. She doesn’t even have time to feel embarrassed, though, because Yoongi’s tilting his head, the pressure of his lips on hers suddenly changing.

She isn’t ready for the wet swipe against the seam of her lips, and she hates that she gasps because she knows it’s given him a chance to push his tongue into her mouth -- he’s brushing against her tongue roughly, almost challenging her to fight back. Feeling him smirk against her lips at the victory when she doesn’t, she tries to resist him now, nipping sharply at his bottom lip and snickering into his mouth when he groans.

The laugh in her throat is drowned out by a whimper when Yoongi tightens his hold on her hair until it’s bordering on painful. She doesn’t mind the sting, and she’s wondering if he can tell. That thought goes quickly out the window, because he’s already testing it again, tugging harshly and taking note of the way her breath catches. It had been a game before, push and pull -- but now she just can't think straight.

The fog in her mind masking every form of smart decision-making that she knows, Y/n’s sliding her arms off of his shoulders. Scratching her nails lightly down the expanse of Yoongi’s chest and torso, she smirks when his muscles are jumping under her touch, his breath shaky as he rubs his tongue against hers. And then her two pointer fingers are hooking into the waistband of his wet boxers, and Yoongi’s whining low into her mouth.

He can feel her pulling the elastic away from his skin, and he’s shuffling toward her to close the distance, mostly because he’s afraid she’s going to purposely let go and snap the band painfully back to him -- but also because there’s only one thing Yoongi’s sure of right now, and it’s that his boxers have to stay on. But her fingers are still hooked into the band -- because apparently she’s decided that that’s a good place to rest her hands -- and she keeps accidentally tugging the material down, so if he doesn’t keep up with her, they’re both gonna be in trouble.

Dropping his hands to Y/n’s waist, Yoongi turns her slowly toward the shower wall, his thumbs rubbing heated circles into her skin as he nudges her backward. His brain feels like mush, especially when he accidentally pushes his hips against hers, because she’s sighing into his mouth, and he finds himself wanting to do it again -- so he does. The white noise in his head only gets louder, because she’s whimpering when he stumbles forward, pinning her roughly to the wall as his hips rock into hers. But then she’s gasping suddenly and his heart is dropping, because it doesn’t sound the same as the others.

Yoongi pulls back right away, searching her face in the dark to see if she’s hurt -- if he’s made her uncomfortable. But she only seems shocked, her eyes wide and confused.

Shocked is exactly what she is. Because when Yoongi had guided her backwards into the wall, the cold tile against her skin had made her jump. And just like that, the haze had cleared, the reality of what they were doing -- what they might have kept doing if not for the shock to her system -- setting in. She looks him over, taking in his confusion and only offering a single sentence.

“You’re Yoongi.” Eyebrows disappearing into his hair, the boy’s nodding slowly, like he’s worried about her current mental state. She offers one more line, and this one does the trick.

“I’m Y/n.” Almost like a switch had been turned off, wiping Yoongi’s brain free of his own fog, he’s grimacing immediately, a noise of discomfort leaving him. Because she hadn’t filled in the gaps, but he had.

He’s him, and she’s her. And they… they don’t do things like this. They don’t lose themselves in each other like this. Because there’s nothing there between them, so much so that even the thought of continuing what they’d been doing is bringing a frown to both of their faces. Yoongi swallows hard, smacking his lips in slight disgust.

“Way to kill a boner, loser.” He hisses when she lands a well-aimed smack to his bicep, fully aware that he deserved that. Planting her hand on his chest, Y/n’s pushing him away -- slowly, because the last thing they need is him slipping and trying to explain to Pomfrey how they’d gotten here when he ends up in the Hospital Wing. Once there’s distance between them, Y/n’s crossing her arms over her chest, like that really will do much considering the last five minutes of their lives. She does it anyway, grateful that he has the decency to look away instead of making a snide remark about the futility of hiding from him now. She clears her throat, drawing his attention from where he leans against the wall.

“So -- making out in the shower at 4am was a bad idea.” Yoongi laughs loudly, and the tension between them is immediately dissipating with his nod.

“100%. Cross it off the bucket list, but let’s never do that again.”

--

Saturday, 18 September, 10:05am

“…ke up… Y/n… come on, wake up… Y/n!” Jumping from the sudden yell of her name, Y/n’s eyes fly open, startled. She turns her head toward the voice that had called her, finding that Yoongi’s hovering right over her. He’s got his lips pressed to the shell of her ear, clearly having decided that yelling right into her eardrum would wake her, because of course it would.

“What?” He pulls away when she snaps at him, looking down at her with a sleepy grin. He’s got an arm around her waist, his body having been curled tightly around hers the whole night. After they’d finished their shower, she’d sat on her bed in her towel for a few minutes, too lazy to get dressed, and Yoongi had thrown one of his baggy t-shirts and a pair of her panties at her face in irritation because he’d really wanted to go to sleep. It’s all she’s wearing, something that had made cuddling much easier since she gets cold at night -- he’s not happy about having his body heat stolen, but it’s only a minor inconvenience if he’s honest.

He sets his chin on her shoulder now, breathing in the scent of her shampoo mixed with the smell of him, all over his t-shirt. He wonders briefly if she’s going to start smelling like this new hybrid scent from now on -- if she’d be wearing his clothes more often now. It doesn’t elicit any particular reaction out of him, only a curious hum leaving him. He makes eye contact with her again, seeing that she’s giving him an irritated look, probably because he’d woken her. With an innocent smile, he says--

“‘m hungry.” She shoots him a look, rolling back over onto her side and shutting him out.

“Then go eat.” He pulls at her shoulder right away, forcing her to lean against him again and give him her attention.

“Go with me -- I don’t wanna sit alone in the Great Hall, and we’re supposed to do shit together now! Couple-y shit!” Y/n groans angrily, because now all the sleepiness she’d felt is fading away, leaving her awake and annoyed.

“Dude, it’s a Saturday at 10am, and we just went to bed like 5 hours ago! Go without me!” She’s about to turn away again, but Yoongi’s scooting impossibly closer, pressing his face into her neck and whining loudly -- it’s really obnoxious, and he knows that. It works, though, because she’s sighing loudly, about to give in. But--

“Min Yoongi.” His whining stops, replaced by a confused hum because her voice has an edge to it that makes him feel like he’s in trouble.

“Get your fucking morning wood away from my ass. Before I push you out the window.” Yoongi stills, pursing his lips and shutting his eyes in embarrassment, because he hadn’t even noticed that he’d been pushing the front of his shorts against her backside while he was complaining. Hiding his face in her neck, he’s about to apologize and move away, maybe even resign himself to going to breakfast alone after all -- but then a snort of amusement is leaving him, and he’s staying right where he is.

“Maybe if you get out of bed, you won’t have to feel it anymore. Unless… you want to?” It’s definitely the wrong thing to say, and he knows it, already rolling away from Y/n in a panic because she’s turning to him, her hands curling into fists as she locates her target.

For no less than five minutes, Y/n chases Yoongi around her room, flinging clothes, shoes, heavy objects -- anything she can get her hands on. Finally, she latches onto the front of his shirt, wrapping her legs around his waist and pulling angrily on his hair. He yelps, snaking one arm around her and using his other hand to break his fall against her bedroom door, because they’re both about to topple over.

His back slams heavily into the wood, and Y/n can’t tell if he’s crying or laughing, but either way, he’s yelling -- and it’s very unlikely that anyone in the vicinity of her room can’t hear him.

“I had you naked up against a wall last night, and you’re mad about my morning wood?!” Y/n pulls on his hair extra hard, enraged, and he yelps again, losing his footing -- they crash to the ground in a pile of limbs, both groaning loudly. It becomes laughter almost immediately, exhausted and full of disbelief that they’d just spent all that time trashing her room. After a moment of heavy breathing and pained complaints, Yoongi turns to her, an obnoxious grin on his face.

“‘m still hungry.”

--

“Oh my God, would you hurry up? If we miss last call for breakfast and have to eat in the kitchens, I’m gonna be so pissed--”

“I told you to go alone--”

“And I told you that I wanted you to go with me--”

“We coulda been there already if you hadn’t been all up on me and pissed me off--”

“I’m sure you’ll get used to it, babe--”

“Min Yoongi--”

“Ow! Okay, I’m sorry!”

After cleaning up the mess in Y/n’s room, she and Yoongi had gotten ready together, because there would have been no way for her to go back to sleep after that. He had rummaged through the part of her wardrobe designated for his belongings -- it had become convenient for them to keep clothes in each others’ rooms after a couple years, clearly serving its purpose now that Yoongi’d needed a clean outfit.

Still, even with fresh clothes on, it’s obvious that Yoongi had stayed the night -- rather, it’s obvious to Taehyung and Namjoon, who are sitting in the Gryffindor common room doing work when Yoongi and Y/n stumble down the stairs, on the edge of laughter even though they’re bickering. And it’s especially obvious to Jungkook, who’s reaching the bottom of the stairs to the boys’ dorm at the same time -- because he’s stopped at a close enough distance to Yoongi that he can smell the scent of Y/n’s body wash all over him. A smell he’s very personally familiar with.

Y/n chokes on her spit, realizing with a reddening face not only that her friends had heard the conversation she and Yoongi had just been having, but that they had definitely also heard what had happened upstairs -- what Yoongi had said about having her naked up against a wall. Y/n wants to hide in a corner and never make eye contact with them ever again, but they don’t mention it, Taehyung only waving with an amused smile as Namjoon hides his laughter behind a hand. She points at the door to the common room awkwardly.

“We’re… going to breakfast… if anyone wants to come.” The pair of boyfriends shake their heads simultaneously, and Y/n turns her head to where she knows Jungkook is when she sees Namjoon glancing in slight concern over to the boys standing beside her. When she looks, she sees why he might be worried.

Yoongi and Jungkook have yet to say a word or even acknowledge that Y/n had spoken, too busy staring each other down. It’s obvious that Jungkook’s angry, but Yoongi would never back down from a challenge. Y/n reaches out, sliding her hand down Yoongi’s forearm and threading her fingers through his.

“Come on… we’re gonna miss last call…” Jungkook doesn’t tear his eyes away from Yoongi’s when she grabs the Slytherin’s hand, but he’s definitely seen it out of the corner of his eye, his gaze hardening. It brings a smirk to Yoongi’s lips, knowing Y/n’s affection had gotten under his skin. Looking Jungkook up and down with that infuriating curl of his lips, Yoongi only cocks an eyebrow at the Gryffindor before turning to Y/n, pulling her toward the door as he responds, his voice carrying through the silent common room with distinct clarity.

“I don’t mind if we eat in the kitchens, babygirl -- I like being alone with you.” Y/n rolls her eyes internally at how obnoxious Yoongi is, but she can hear Jungkook letting out a restrained sigh behind them, and she can’t help the smug satisfaction that fills her. And when Yoongi glances at her as they step out into the corridor, his eyes dancing with amusement, she knows he feels the same.

Well, this should be fun.

[bratkook]

i dont mind. jjk (m) part one.

part two. pairing: rockstar!Jungkook x reader genre: band!au, strangers to lovers, lots of fluff, smut, future angst warnings: overstimulation, he spits in your mouth yum(jungkook has a thing for spit ok), multiple orgasms, oral, face sitting, fingering, its sweet & playful okay word count: 21k+ summary: What do you do when a cute boy barges into your car and demands you floor it because he’s being chased by security? Well, you floor it of course, and somehow manage to fall for him because of it. author’s note: I’ve been writing this for ages whenever i’d get a minute to spare but its here and will be two parts!! plsplspls give it a read and drop some feedback or a reblog. please listen to I Don’t Mind by Defeater, that song it the reason I wrote this lmfao. 

Day One.

The iced coffee you held in your hand felt nice despite the slight breeze that surrounds you as you walk down the street, phone held against your ear as Yeri spills her heart out on the events that just happened to her. Something about being rejected by someone and that said someone’s girlfriend popping up, you were sort of lost in her story, only humming when you deemed necessary.

“This is why I'm single!”

Mhm. That sucks. 

“Like can you believe that?”

I know that’s crazy. 

You shuffle the bags on your shoulder higher up, wincing when you realize the weight of them had left an indent on your skin. “I’ll call you back Yeri, I’m about to get in my car.”

She said her goodbyes promising to let you know even more details on her story later before you hung up. You grab your keys out of your bag and throw the shopping bags that unfortunately do not belong to you into the trunk as you curse your boss for making you do her shopping before getting into the driver's side and starting it up. 

You place your coffee into the cup holder, put the car in drive and deem yourself ready to speed off when your passenger door flies open, a man flinging his body inside, practically throwing himself onto your side and shutting the door behind him, “Drive, please just drive!”

The stranger gives you an exasperated look when the car remains at a standstill, seeing you stare at him with wide eyes but how could you not stare? He looks absolutely frantic, the red flannel he wore was hanging off his shoulder and he wasn't even on the seat properly. His hair was a mess on his head, the length of it allowing you to see he has black earrings in his lobes, but you have no time to admire him in your state of shock.  

“Please!” He begs again and honestly you don’t know why you listen, maybe because he sounds desperate, maybe because you’re slightly bored and want to see where this would take you, or maybe because he probably had a gun. Regardless you do so while managing to clear the tight parking space with ease before you were speeding out of there. 

He visibly relaxes as he looks behind him and your curious eyes glance at the rear view mirror to see what he was staring at, gasping when you saw cops running down the sidewalk by the spot you had just left, clearly looking for someone. 

“What did you do!” You shriek, your fingers gripping the steering wheel tightly as you look over at the brown haired boy. Making decisions out of pure boredom would be the death of you, literally. If the cops were after him your reasoning of him maybe having a gun were probably right. 

“Don’t freak out.” 

The car screeches to a halt as you nearly pass a red light, both of you jolting forward at the sudden stop. “Don’t freak out? You invited yourself into my car, demanded I drive and I have no idea who you are. Those cops were looking for you weren’t they?”

He chooses this moment to buckle his seatbelt and pull down your visor to fix his messed up hair, great he was making himself comfortable. “Okay, okay. Yes I was running from them.”

You were a split second away from physically kicking him out of your car, “What did you do?”

He flips the visor back up and rubs his jaw, looking back again to make sure the cops had lost sight of him before turning back around to face you, “I ...might have ...stabbed someone….”

Oh so not a gun but a knife. 

You could feel your blood pressure drop and your mind going a thousand miles a minute as you try to figure out a way to go about the situation but in the end you opt for screaming, “You what?!”

Your fingers press the unlock button and you reach over to unbuckle his seatbelt, seeing him look down at it with a frown as it slid up his chest and off his body. You were not going to jail for harboring a fugitive. “Get out! Get out right fucking now!” 

He just stares at you so you take it upon yourself to reach over again and open the door for him to let him know you were not joking. As your door swung open it nearly wipes out a biker who yells every curse word at you before flipping you off and continuing to bike away. 

That's when the boy starts laughing, closing the door and buckling back up as he motions up with a smile at the light that had just turned green, “Wow you yell really loud.” His nose wrinkled up as he laughs, acting as if him admitting to stabbing someone was casual small talk. 

You continue to drive, your nervous eyes bouncing around to see how many witnesses were around in case he did something. You were also debating just driving straight to a police station because as far as you knew he was a psychopath who needed to be locked up. 

When you gave him no reaction he stopped laughing. “Okay, wow. You took that seriously, you’re super tense right now...and a little pale.” He tilts his head to get a better look at your face but you refuse to look at him, “It was a joke, ha ha, I didn’t actually stab anyone okay?”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Yet you keep driving.” He has a smug smile on his face, choosing to slide down the seat to really get comfortable, “I stole some guitar picks alright? They really called out the beefiest mall cops on me for guitar picks. Pat me down if you want, I don't have anything that is stabbing material.”

“I still don’t–”

“Believe me, yeah yeah.” His hand reaches into his jeans pocket, plucking out one of the black guitar picks and holding it in front of your face to see that it was in fact new because the tiny price sticker was still on it. 

There was a split second of pure silence as you stare at the pick before looking back at the road. Clearly satisfied, he sighs and pockets the pick again, choosing to spread his left arm out to rest on the head of your seat, “So, enough about me. How’s your day going?”

Cue the screaming, “Why would you say you stabbed someone you asshole!”

His eyes widen up, fingers going to plug his ears until you were finished, “Once again, you’re loud. It was a joke, lighten up.”

The muscles under your eye were twitching as you filled up with rage but you kept driving. And that's when you realized you had mindlessly began driving back to work so before you could give this self proclaimed jokester personal information you swerved to the curb and put your car in park. 

“Ha ha yes it was sooo funny. Get out and tell everyone else your amazing jokes.” You gestured towards the curb with a sarcastic grin on your face. 

“You’re really gonna–” He looked out at the sidewalk and back at you, “you’re gonna make me get out? Seriously?”

A nod was given in response, your hand still spread out towards the sidewalk. 

“Alright, I’ll get out but you have to give me your number first.”

Your jaw dropped and your hand went limp, falling onto the center console with a thud, “What?”

“Your number, you know like your phone number?” He was already pulling his phone out, tapping on his contacts to make a new addition. 

“No.”

He looked up, confusion written all over his face, not being able to fathom someone turning him down, “C’mon, let me make this up to you.”

The crisp click of your doors unlocking again filled the small car, “You getting out of my car is more than enough.”

He lets out a whistle, another grin making its way onto his face, “Feisty.”

Alright, you were ready to pop him in the face. More so when he started rummaging through your glove compartment, pulling out a random pink highlighter you had and a gas receipt that was crinkled up. He scribbled on it and slipped it back into your glove compartment, “Give me a call, I’ll buy you an iced coffee since you seem to like that.”

Your eyes flicker down at the now watered down iced coffee, only looking back when you heard the passenger door close. He blew you a kiss before strolling down the street back in the way you came. 

Curiosity got the best of you so you reach over and grab the receipt from the glove compartment, looking at the paper and seeing he scribbled his number along with his name and a heart. 

Jungkook. 

You scoffed and crumbled it up, tossing it into the back of your car to be forgotten. 

Day Twenty-four. 

“Jesus Yeri stand up!” You grunted, struggling to hold your weight and hers combined as she leaned on you. She was completely shit faced, well you weren’t that far off but she was practically dead weight right now. 

“He was so cute.” She whined out, rubbing your cheek with the back of her palm. 

You managed to shuffle the both of you over to the brick wall by the club, gently pushing her against it to ease the weight off, “You were flirting with the mural on the wall Yeri.”

Yeri mumbled a couple of angry things before throwing her head back and smacking it onto the brick wall with a nasty thud. Her face contorted into pain as she clutched onto the back of her head, resulting in her completely losing her center of balance and face planting it onto the concrete. It all happened too fast for your drunk mind to comprehend and you only noticed she was now on the floor when she groaned in pain. 

“Oh my god.” You crouched down and flipped her over onto her back, sighing out when there were no visible injuries or blood, “I thought you were gonna break your face.”

Her eyes widened as she patted her cheeks, “No I’m too pretty!”

She lay there, hands inspecting her face for anything while you gave up. You chose to sit on the ground with your back against the wall, leaving Yeri on the floor in front of you because wow your legs really fucking hurt. Dancing with heels on for three hours did not feel nice no matter how many shots you threw back. 

This was supposed to be a fun outing, which it was, but neither of you were planning on getting as drunk as you are now. Obviously things didn’t go as planned, once she saw some guy she used to fool around with the stories of every failed relationship came flooding out of her mouth and the only way to get her to stop was to make her drink. 

Everything was great, dancing with each other and making friends with other drunk girls was always the highlight of nights out but when you lost Yeri and found her trying to make out with a mural you decided it was time to leave. 

“Where’s our uber?” She mumbled out, curling up on the floor, deeming it the perfect napping area. 

“I got it.” You reached into your bra and pulled out your phone to order the uber except the screen wouldn't light up. The reflection of you pouting at your phone stared back at you when the charging icon flickered before going black. 

You don’t got it. 

It was dead and apparently so was Yeri’s. 

The phone went back into your bra as your fingers gripped the wall to pull yourself back up. The black stilettos you had on were slipped off your feet and placed beside Yeri as you walked a few feet up the sidewalk to see if anyone had exited the club. The ground was dirty and your feet were throbbing as you walked but you didn’t pay much attention to it. 

The area surrounding the club was empty except for a few girls who were way more drunk than you stumbling away in the opposite direction. Once you turned back around when you realized no one could help, you heard the sound of voices, men to be more specific. 

Oh god. You instantly got nervous and hurried back to Yeri, attempting to sit her up to not draw attention to how drunk both of you were. 

“You should’ve gone for it!”

“She was all over you dude.”

They all started laughing with each other as they got closer to the pair of you. 

“Nah, she wasn’t feeling it.”

Once again they all groaned in unison, “She wasn’t feeling it? I don’t know it looked like she was feeling up all over you.”

You kept your gaze forward, hoping that if you ignored them as they passed they would ignore you. Yeri had a different plan. 

“Hey!” She shouted out and you just held your breath as they stopped walking a few feet away from you. “Can you get us an uber?”

“Why, are you broke?” One of them asked as they came closer, making a few of them laugh. 

“No, we’re drunk.” She giggled out as her head lolled over onto your shoulder. 

Please don’t hurt us. Is all you could think as they moved to stand in front of you both. 

“Yeah, we’ll get you guys an uber.” You hesitantly looked up at the one who pulled his phone out, expecting to see some creep staring down at you both with sinister eyes but instead you saw a dimpled face guy with purple hair and a look of concentration that was lit up by the glow of his screen. 

“Holy shit, my partner in crime?”

“Dude what?”

“That’s the girl that helped me get away from the damn cops. What’s up Bonnie.”

You scrunch your face up as you tried to see who he was talking to because neither of you were named Bonnie. “What?”

“You know, Bonnie and Clyde.” That's when he crouched down in front of you and gave you a smile.

Jungkook.

“Oh my god, you!”

His friends laughed at how pissed you sounded, “In the flesh. You look like you had a fun night.”

You placed your hand on his forehead before pushing him back making him flop down on his ass, “Fuck off.”

Yeri was handed the phone to input the address, her tongue poking out as she slowly typed it, trying her best to not make any mistakes. You’d grab it from her but it probably wouldn’t make a difference. 

“You never texted me.” Jungkook playfully whined, remaining seated while the rest of his friends fell into their own conversation. 

“I seemed to have misplaced your number, it’s probably somewhere in a landfill if I’m being honest.”

He pressed a palm to his heart as he winced, “Ouch, can I at least get your name?”

You stretched your feet out, your calves felt cold against the concrete but you didn’t mind it. The least you could do was give him your name, “Y/N.”

He was about to respond, something smug you were sure but he was cut off. “The app says this address doesn’t exist…where do you guys live?” He looked to you for an answer because Yeri had fallen asleep.

“In Gangnam.”

Jungkook stood up, reaching his hand out for you to take, “I can drop you guys off if you want?”

You let him pull you up but you protested on the offer for a ride. It was half hearted because you didn’t want to be a burden but you also didn’t want to be stranded here until the first morning bus. “No I don’t wanna bug you.”

He already reached down and grabbed your shoes, holding them in his left hand while letting you balance on him. “Don’t worry about it. I’d rather make sure you get home safe instead of laying on the street, consider this me making it up to you.”

The purple haired boy and another with silver hair reached down to help pick Yeri up since she was out cold. “My cars parked down the street.”

You mumbled out a slurred response, letting yourself lean on him. Jungkook had left your mind since your incident two weeks ago but you were pretty thankful it was him and his group of friends that had stumbled upon you instead of other creepy guys. 

The whole group reached Jungkook's black sedan, opening up the back door to slide Yeri in and buckle her up while he helped you slide into the passenger’s side, clicking your seat belt into place. 

“I’ll catch up with you guys yeah? Text me the address of the restaurant Namjoon.” The guy with purple hair agreed and waved at you before him and the others wandered further down the street to the other car. 

Jungkook gently closed the door, making sure your feet were good before going around the car to get into the driver’s side. “Alright, I know how to get to Gangnam but you’re gonna have to help with your streets. Can you do that?”

“Yup!” He gave you a smile as he started up the car and slowly made his way out of the parking spot and beginning the route to Gangnam. 

“I’d offer you a water bottle but these are all empty or half empty.”

You wiggled your feet, pushing around a few bottles that were on the floor in front of you, “Why?”

“My car overheats a lot. She’s thirsty but I love her.” Jungkook had a look of appreciation on his face as he patted the steering wheel and you couldn’t help but giggle. 

“So where was this thirsty car when you were looking for a getaway driver?”

“Parked way too far away to be a good enough getaway car, you were very convenient.” 

The lights of the clubs in Hongdae swirled by as he passed them, putting you in a trance as you rested your head against the window. “Well,” you sighed, “I’m glad I was able to help.”

The rest of the ride was filled with the soft hum of the radio playing a rock song that Jungkook mumbled under his breath. He was relatively quiet which differed from the small snippets of his personality that you had gotten glimpses of. Maybe he was keeping quiet because you were too drunk to really hold a conversation. 

After directing him through the small streets you arrived at your complex, the surrounding area practically dead because people were either clubbing or fast asleep in their beds. Jungkook got out and helped you step out of the car, letting you rest against the door as he tried to get Yeri’s unconscious ass out of the vehicle. 

You were less wobbly than you were earlier so you wrapped one of her arms around your shoulder even though realistically Jungkook took most of the weight. You typed in your code into the keypad and the front doors slid open, the three of you shuffling into the building and into the elevator. 

“Who are you?” Yeri mumbled out while looking up at Jungkook

“A figment of your imagination.”

She nuzzled into him as the elevator rose up, “You’re cute.” Is all she said before she knocked out again, her body becoming more limp than before if that was even possible. 

After a bit of a struggle and the pair of you almost dropping Yeri, you finally got into your apartment and laid her out on the couch. You let yourself fall onto the loveseat beside it and watched Jungkook take his phone out to scroll through the messages his friends had sent him. 

“The guys are eating somewhere in Myeongdong do you wanna join us?”

You slumped down, your elbows resting on your knees, “Too drunk.”

That was very true, now that you were sat in one place you noticed that the room seemed to be spinning. He hummed as he took in your appearance, deciding to hand his phone over to you even though he was debating trying to persuade you. He knew more than anyone that beef tasted best when drunk but he also knew more than anyone that eating beef when that drunk resulted in it coming back out in the form of throw up. “Next time then.”

You grabbed the device, not really sure what he wanted until you saw that it had the number pad open and a blank contact waiting to be filled in. He was persistent. 

You finally filled out your contact information, throwing in the middle finger and heart emoji beside your contact name before handing it back, not missing the giant smile that spread across his face. 

Day Fourty-two

A nearly empty iced americano was is your hand as Jungkook dragged you down the streets of Hongdae once again, “I can’t believe your ass paid this much for an iced coffee.”

He sipped his own drink, smiling with the straw between his teeth, “One, it tastes great so stop complaining it wasn’t your money, and two did you not see how cute that place was? Definitely worth it.”

You had finally responded to the texts he had been sending you since he gave you and your friend a ride, the constant string of memes and stupid jokes he would send you only made you giggle to yourself but they wouldn’t elicit a written response. 

You would open the texts while you walked from one place to the next, holding in your laughter in public or sharing them with your friends when boredom struck at work. But after a few days of silence on your end the memes and jokes ended and you couldn’t stop yourself from finally sending a text, Why’d you stop? 

That was probably his plan all along, get you hooked on the jokes so you couldn’t stay away. Well it worked because the memes continued and with that came the invitation to finally getting you an iced coffee. The hassle of finding time between your always changing work schedule pushed the date further back but the wait was worth it.

“You’re right, it wasn’t my money so thanks. Where are we going now anyways?” He had told you to dress comfy and you were glad you listened because you guys had been walking for a while and if you had worn your normal flats your feet would be blistered by now. Your converse weren’t exactly the best but it worked, and Jungkook thought the same since he was rocking a pair of his own. Along with that he was also wearing a pair of ripped black jeans, a grey tee and a leather jacket on top that helped keep him warm now that the sun was setting. 

“Somewhere fun. You’ll love it, I hope.”

A couple of blocks later and you were entering a dimly lit club, the bass shaking the walls. This was not what you’re used to, yeah you go to clubs on occasion but they’re usually playing the latest hits and everyone’s drunk and grinding on each other. A club like this, with a band playing and people moving around to the beat of a rock song was out of your element. 

The second you stepped in Jungkook was greeted by a few people, shouts of heys and random handshakes being exchanged while he kept one hand on your shoulder to not lose you. 

“You come here often?” You shouted over the music, luckily he had moved his face closer so he could hear you properly. 

“Yes I do. A couple of my friends are performing tonight though, it’ll be a little more mellow than it is right now.”

You hoped that was true because from what you could see the current crowd were throwing elbows and a few fists around and you didn’t want to be caught in the middle of that. Jungkook seemed to grasp your hesitance so he lead you to the back, leaning against the wall he spread his arms out to invite you to lean into him. There wasn’t really an option, everyone was crowding around the back and if you leaned on him you wouldn’t get shoved around so you did. 

He kept a loose grip around your waist, letting you rest your back against his chest, feeling him hum along to the current song, his hands gently tapping out a beat on your stomach. Jungkook rested his chin on the top of your head due to your height difference, you both probably looked ridiculous but it just made you laugh to yourself. 

“Oh look they’re about to come on!” One of his hands lifted off your waist to point towards the stage where two people walked on, guitar in one of their hands, a box drum in the other’s and microphones being placed in front of them. 

You remembered them from that other night, the one with silver hair that helped carry Yeri and another boy with faded orange hair that you hadn’t spoken to. One sat on the stool while the other made himself comfortable on top of the box drum, pulling the microphones a little closer as they settled in, “Thanks for coming out, I’m Jimin,”

“I’m Hoseok.”

“and we’re gonna play a couple of slow songs for you guys. Is that alright?” The audience cheered and raised their drinks up, a couple of girls screaming out that they loved them. 

Both of them smiled at that, shifting in their seat and checking the tune of the guitar. Jimin tapped on the guitar and softly counted to three before he started playing off chords, Hoseok joining in to create a beautiful melody that made you want to dance along. And then he started singing and you knew you had just become a fan, especially when Hoseok joined in, both their voices mixing together perfectly. The crowd sang along, obviously being fans of them, their arms in the air slowly swaying side to side, it just made you wish you knew the song so you could join along. 

“They’re really good.” You mumbled out to Jungkook who had dropped his head down onto your shoulder. 

“Glad you think so. We’re in a group together, you should come see us next time we play.” You couldn’t say no to that, not with how his face lit up with hope that you’d say yes.

HALLOWEEN Day Sixty-seven

And that's exactly how you found yourself with a small group of your friends at the same club on the night of Halloween, but instead of being in the back the four of you managed to slip your way into the crowd right in front of the small stage. 

You sipped your drink as you waited for the previous group to clear off the stage, the crowd was calm during their set, not really liking them as much which you were thankful for because you did not want your drink on your shirt. 

“So what’s their name?” Irene asked as she looked around, Yeri and Seulgi waiting for a response because you had dragged them all this way with absolutely no explanation other than they had to come. You would’ve came alone but you just didn’t have it in you, the thought of doing that filled your stomach with too many nerves. 

“Absolutely no idea.”

Seulgi smirked, raising her eyebrow at you, “Okay then, what instrument does the one you wanna fuck play?”

“Lead guitar.” It slipped out before you could stop yourself so your lips wrapped around your straw once again as the three of them gasped and started making a scene. 

“Oh my god Y/N, go for it–”

“Especially if he’s hot!”

“Do you know if the feeling’s mutual?”

You were sipping on pure ice at this point, your drink running dry and no longer allowing you to stall. “Yes he’s hot and he’s also really fucking dorky in an adorable way.”

Irene smacked your arm, “Wait is it meme boy?”

Question marks appeared over the other two's head, obviously having no idea what kind of code name meme boy was. 

You just nodded at her before she smacked your arm again, “Go for it!”

You were honestly tempted to do so but so far Jungkook hadn’t tried to make a move, yes he was flirty but that just seemed like his personality. Your texts were always friendly, very sarcastic and full of jokes and you had only really hung out twice since the last time he brought you here so you were stumped. Plus you weren’t quite sure what your friendship was...boy that snuck into your car and also saved your drunk ass while showing you good music and becoming someone you text regularly?

Suddenly the entire crowd shifted, everyone stepping up and successfully pushing you out of your train of thought and the four of you closer to the stage. Your knees grazing the stage and the feeling of elbows digging into your back just made you remember how nice being in the back last time had been but you wanted to see his group so you’d deal with it. 

One by one they came out, all with giant smiles adorning their faces as they took their place and that's when your eyes landed on Jungkook who was standing directly in front of you, his shiny black guitar hanging off his shoulders.

Your eyes trailed up from his legs to his guitar where his hands loosely gripped the neck and that's when you noticed the subtle trails of ink he had adorning his skin, you had never seen those before considering he usually had a sweater or some sort on due to the current weather, but they definitely suited him. There wasn’t too many of them, simple script across his chest and a few designs against his left arm but they were bold enough to stand out. Your eyes went further up to see him staring right at you, a giant smile on his face when he realized you had actually made it. 

“You came!” He mouthed out to you, his eyes crinkling up in excitement when you smiled back and nodded at him. 

Irene shook your shoulder and squealed when she noticed that but luckily he had already turned around, lightly strumming a few times while the guy you remembered as Jimin spoke, “Wow, there's a lot of you here tonight. I see some of you have dressed for the occasion, we obviously haven’t because to be honest it gets hot as fuck up here.”

Shouts were heard from all over, mixing in with the sound of the members all checking their instruments when the man holding the bass grasped the mic in front of him with a smirk, “Plus a mask wouldn’t let you guys see my pretty face and lets face it, they’re just here to see my pretty face Jimin.”

Jimin shook his head as he fidgeted with his own guitar, his head lifting up for his eyes to scan the room, “Is that true guys? Did you all just wanna see Taehyung’s pretty face?”

Noises of approval and a few dirty comments were shouted towards the stage making Taehyung wink in return which only caused more noise from the girls all around, he was clearly the man in charge of making the girls go crazy. 

Jungkook had turned back around, his hand no longer holding the neck of his guitar, instead just letting it hang low on his body. He grasped his own microphone, the damn black pick he stole being held between his fingers as he pressed his lips against the mic, “And what about my pretty face?”

The crowd got even louder than before and you couldn’t stop from rolling your eyes with a smile when he looked down at you, winking before crinkling up his nose and laughing at everyone's reaction. 

“And what about me?” Shouted Hoseok, the drummer who was now standing up on his drum stool with his arms spread out. 

The cheers continued and Jimin waved his arms around to silence everyone, “Alright, alright. Everyone here has a pretty face, but let’s be honest, it’s me you’re here for.” 

Laughs were heard but before any of the members could respond to that he brought the microphone back to his mouth, “Anyways this is a new song, hope you enjoy it!”

Hoseok tapped his sticks together before the song began, the entire crowd moving along to the rhythm that you and your friends couldn’t help but join in. That's how the entire show went, even with the songs everyone but you four knew, the experience was fun and it was even more entertaining to see Jungkook on stage. 

The white shirt he had on was damp with sweat and the collar was hanging loosely around his shoulders, letting you see the ink that painted his chest more freely. He got lost in the music, certain songs making him bob his head with his eyes shut while others made him roam the stage and interact with the crowd while him and Taehyung joked around and before you knew it they were saying their goodbyes, taking a bow on stage before hopping off and disappearing into a door to the right. 

The four of you immediately slid your way out of the crowd that was still shouting out for them to come back out, finding yourselves back at the bar to get more drinks. 

“They were so good!” Seulgi complemented before taking a sip of her beer. 

“They really were and the amount of times Jungkook looked down at you,” Irene whistled,”you’d be stupid not to make a move.”

You took a sip of your own drink, replaying the moments Jungkook had looked down at you as he shredded away on the guitar. It was hot to say the least, you had to come out to more of their shows from now on. 

A bit of a commotion was heard behind you before you felt someone sling their arm around your shoulder. You looked up in shock and saw Jungkook looking down at you with a sweet smile that didn’t match the smirks he was sending on stage. He had changed into a black shirt and he didn’t look as sweaty as before. “Did you like the show?”

You pretended to think about it, enjoying the fake shocked lock on his face before you admitted that you had really enjoyed it. “Definitely. You guys are really talented.”

He bowed his head down, suddenly feeling shy at your praises. “Thanks that means a lot, we’re gonna head out to this party our friend’s throwing not too far from here. Did you guys wanna go?” He looked at you then towards your friends. 

“We didn’t drive here.” Irene spoke up. 

He just shrugged in return, “There’s space in our van if you’re willing to squeeze together.”

Your friends could see that you were thinking of it because a party did sound inviting and they knew you had the hots for the guitarist so they motioned for you to say yes.

Jungkook noticed and his grin only widened when he saw you nod in agreement, clapping his hands together and telling you all to follow him outside, saying the bartender would put your drinks on his tab and to not worry about it. 

On the way out a few girls tried to grab his attention but he only smiled and reached for your hand to get out of there but not before you saw the nasty stares being sent your way once they saw your hands intertwined. 

Once you stepped out you noticed the sun had barely set, remnants of pinks and purples still lingering in the sky as the dark blue hue slowly overtook it. There was a slight breeze nipping at your skin, making you squeeze Jungkook’s hand as a reflex. He looked over at you as your group walked down the sidewalk, seeing your hair fan out to the side and the way you tried to look down to stop the breeze from hitting your face, the sight made him circle his thumb around your palm, sending tingles up your arm. 

In that moment you felt like a schoolgirl developing a crush, stuck in the phases in between wondering if this was something you would forget in a few weeks or something genuine you felt inside. The feelings in the beginning of liking someone were always your favorite, finding out little quirks about them, realizing what you did and didn’t have in common and the anticipation of not knowing if they felt the same lingering in the back of your mind. 

Was this situation love? Absolutely not. It was more than likely lust but considering the short time you had known each other that was a given, although maybe you could nudge that lust over into a nice like. 

“Hey guys, this is Y/N  and her friends.”

You finally looked up and saw Jimin, Hoseok, and Taehyung gathered around a black van, loading up the back with amps and their instruments. 

“Isn’t she the girl you gave a ride to last time? Thought her name was Bonnie?”

Jungkook quickly said it was a joke as you nodded, slightly embarrassed at that memory and with Yeri’s noise of realization and horror you knew she felt the same. 

“I knew I recognized you!” Jimin spoke with excitement as he pointed at you before turning back to the van to help continue the game of tetris in the form of amps. He stuck his head back out for another moment, “I kept trying to go on your side but Kookie here seemed to be a little territorial on that side of the stage.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes with a grin, mumbling out to ignore him and then stepping in to help his friends finish packing up. The back of the van was slammed shut and locked, Jimin rounding off to enter the driver’s side with Hoseok calling shotgun and Taehyung calling the only available seat in the back row because the rest were occupied with equipment. 

Irene, Seulgi and Yeri stepped into the van’s middle row, Irene placing Seulgi on her lap and Yeri sliding in next to her, leaving you and Jungkook to squish into the last remaining seat. You shuffled in, feeling Jungkook step in after you and close the door but before you could sit down you felt his hands grip your waist and gently sit you down on his lap. 

The heat rushed to your face at the position and the audience you had around you but you just laughed it off and shifted around so you sat sideways, facing your friends and letting Jungkook have a view of your profile. 

“Sorry, it was either this or being squished beside my thunder thighs.” He whispered out to you with a laugh as he patted his muscular thighs. 

“It’s fine, your thunder thighs make good cushions.”

He squinted his eyes at you with a grin, “Good to know.”

The engine started up and the conversations immediately followed, Jimin asking for brutal honesty from your group because deep down he thinks they need improvement. The chorus of no you guys are great from your friends filled the vehicle and a small tap on your shoulder from Jungkook drew your attention away from Jimin’s half convinced face in the rearview mirror. 

“Hey how’s work been?” He asked quietly, a small grin spread onto his lips as he waited for your response. 

There was always something nice about being asked questions you knew were genuine, and in this case you definitely knew it was genuine since you had been bitching and moaning to him about how much you hated your boss. 

“I barely survived the week.”

“Yikes, what did she have you do?”

Oh man, where would you start? If this were a regular office job maybe it’d be easier to talk about but no, you were the head assistant and writer in training of the CEO of the biggest fashion magazine in South Korea and she just happened to sometimes be the devil reincarnated. 

“She made me pick up her kid from daycare first off.”

“Why, did she forget?”

“No, in her exact words she said I don’t feel like seeing him today he gives me migraines.”

Jungkook laughed at that and so did Taehyung since he grasped the end of your sentence. In retrospect it was kind of funny but it also wasn’t in your job description to be a nanny. 

“I can handle taking her coffee and picking up dry cleaning and phone calls and literally everything else but come on, she has three nannies.”

His palm gently patted your knee as he gave you a sympathetic smile, “Smile and breathe. Who knows maybe picking her kid up gave you brownie points and when she’s old and on her deathbed she’ll give you the company.”

You could only hope. 

It was now three in the morning and somehow the majority of the people at this party were still kicking. The second everyone entered the house shots and halloween props were passed around in celebration of their friend Seokjin getting signed to a huge label to officially begin his career as a solo artist. He had gone around shouting fuck yeah no more playing on street corners throughout the whole night. He was probably somewhere in the house passed the fuck out. 

Yoongi, a producer and close friend of theirs, and Hoseok were in the kitchen mixing up more drinks and discussing the band’s upcoming album and what ideas they had. Yeri and Irene were playing a match of beer pong against Seulgi and Jimin while Taehyung and a bunch of others you were unfamiliar with cheered them on. You were wandering around with a red cup full of water, the second you’d finish a beer you’d chug a cup of water because hangovers were the death of you. 

“Hello miss soon to be CEO.”

A bottle was handed to you and you took it while grinning at Jungkook, his cheeks were flushed a cute red and his eyes and crooked devil horns made it clear he was a little past tipsy. 

“Hi mister soon to be rockstar.”

He threw his head back as he chuckled, choosing to lean back against the wall that divided the kitchen from the living room. “Oh being a rockstar would be so crazy, imagine traveling all over the world. Are you gonna be there to make sure my outfits are fashion worthy?”

You gave him a once over, pretending to find his outfit unappealing and enjoying the look of shock that came across his face at your judgement. “I think you’re fine in the outfit department.”

Jungkook's eyes narrowed at you and his lips pursed slightly as he watched you take a swig of your drink, your water now forgotten and placed on the small coffee table full of bottles. “But what if I want you there with me?” His confession was quiet, so quiet it made you think you had imagined it, until he repeated it when you looked up at him and mumbled out a dumb huh?

“What if I want you there with me, y’know traveling the world and junk.” He seemed shyer now than before, his thumbs twiddling with the head of his bottle as he gave you a sideways glance. 

“Well,” you took a step forward, choosing to stand beside him against the wall and nudge his shoulder, “I’ll be there as long as you want me there.”

Jungkook could feel himself grin at your statement, seeing you grinning right back as you tilted your head up to look at him. 

“Can I ki–”

“Hey! You two look way too sober to be having a good time!” Jungkook’s head turned towards the direction of the voice seeing Jin who was miraculously not fucking passed out standing there while trying to juggle a few shots, fake blood dripping down his mouth accompanied by fangs and a cloak. 

He was about to respond before your hand cupped his cheek and turned his face towards you, your lips wasting no time in slotting between his own. That caught him by surprise for a split second before he relaxed, his free hand coming around to weave through your hair. Before he was able to fully enjoy your surprising display of affection you were stepping back with a smile.

“Yeah you can kiss me.”

Day Eighty-nine

You had just finished slipping on your pair of tan booties when something caught your attention through your window. The bed squeaked underneath you as you stood up to peak outside, seeing Jungkook's car parked a couple of cars away from your complex. 

“Fuck how long has he been waiting out there for?”

You huffed the hair out of your face as you reached for your phone, expecting to see a text from him saying he was here but you were greeted with nothing. That just made you smirk to yourself in the mirror as you fixed your hair. 

You didn’t waste any more time grabbing your bag and leaving your unit, you had the element of surprise on your side so you wanted to use it before he texted you he was here. 

Once you were out of your complex you slowly crept towards his car, standing a few feet away before you decided to sprint towards it, swinging open the thankfully unlocked door and throwing yourself into the seat much like he had when you first met. 

“Drive just drive!” You shouted out as you reached for his shirt to clutch onto and weakly shake him. 

The scream he let out during the whole thing made this all worth it. He didn’t catch a good enough look to realize it was you until he swatted your hands off and cursed. 

“What the fuck!”

You covered your face as you laughed, resting back into the seat properly as you shut the door and buckled yourself up. “What’s wrong you big baby, c’mon let's go.”

He continued to stare at you, a deer caught in a headlight with his chest pounding and his lungs working in overdrive. “Who does that!”

“You.”

He stuttered over his words before giving up and rubbing his face with a groan that eased into a laugh. “I hate you.”

You reached over and gently patted his cheeks with a smile, “I hate you too. Now c’mon!”

Jungkook took a deep breath before grinning and starting the drive. After Seokjin’s party and the two of you kissing your relationship had become weird. Not in the sense of awkwardness, more like oh god we kissed what does that make us? What direction does this go in, friends, friends with benefits or a relationship dare you say. 

After a week of it Jungkook decided to throw caution to the wind and ask you out on a proper date. He was very blunt about it, his exact words being I don’t know how I feel exactly but it makes me happy and I want to take you out to see where this goes. Please tell me you’re up for it.

You couldn’t say no even if you wanted to, hell your friends wouldn’t allow you to even think about telling him no. Jungkook was always as understanding as could be when it came to your work, he knew your career was your top priority, filling the time between then and now with never ending messages about what he had planned for it. It made you feel like you were in highschool, enamored by the cutest boy in class who only had eyes for you, slyly responding to his messages when you had the time underneath your desk at work.

When the clouds parted and you were given a day off, one hundred percent off, no worrying on if Mijoo would text you and demand you come in, you pounced on it, immediately asking Jungkook if his date needed more of a heads up than a day. The odds were in your favor, so now you were on your way to a cute little cafe beside Han River in Jungkook's thirsty car with the feeling of butterflies in your stomach. 

It had been a while since you’ve felt this giddy about someone, work had basically taken over your life so you had absolutely no time to even think about a relationship with anyone. Sure you went out with Yeri and the girls whenever you all had a moment to spare and sure you’ve had your fair share of one night stands because a girl has needs but this, this was definitely new. 

You found yourself excited to get messages from Jungkook, regardless of what they were. His random bursts of messages that he sent when his mind was whirling around and he just had to tell you of how certain he was that life was just a simulation and follow it up with fifty messages providing sources and proof. The random goofy selfies he’d send you in the middle of his band practice and on his lunch in the back room of his “real life job” because sometimes your dream job doesn’t pay all the bills. 

But, your favorite texts would be the ones he would send when he thought of you, maybe a random flower on his walk out, a random stuffed animal, the smell of coffee. There was always something sweet about being shown that you were missed and being thought of.

His messages were no longer one sided at all, you had sent him a good amount of I miss you texts and selfies and memes and he was just as sucked in as you were. He hadn’t told you yet but he had a folder saved on his phone full of the ugly selfies you’ve sent him and screenshots of his favorite messages. It was clear that the lust you had for him earlier has nudged way over into a nice little like.

“Wait what?”

You were now sat in the corner of the cafe, right underneath a vibrant neon sign that just begged to be taken pictures with and luckily Jungkook had done so for you. A half finished iced coffee sat in front of you and a cup of green slush that used to be his green tea frappe sat in front of him, a slice of cake was currently being picked at by both of you in the middle of the table.

“I’m so nervous!”

You had just finished telling Jungkook about the new opportunity presented to you at your job. The fact that your boss had put her trust in you and allowed you to do a full spread for the last winter issue set to drop in the beginning of February on whatever topic or subject you deemed appropriate was shocking. How did you go from fetching her clothes and drinks and dealing with her appointments to doing a full spread?

“Don’t get me wrong, I know I worked hard for this to happen but like...what’s the catch?” you paused and took a sip of the last remaining part of your drink, “I can do this, one hundred percent.”

“Of course you can, you’re like ready to emerge from your cocoon. You won’t be able to see it but your wings are gonna be sick as fuck.” He cut you off, sending you a genuine smile before cutting a piece of the cake and popping it in his mouth as if he hadn’t just said the sweetest words to you. 

“Are you calling me a caterpillar?” You tease, smiling when he forces himself to swallow the cake in his mouth, an exasperated face adorning his features.

“No you doofus, I’m calling you a butterfly.” He rolls his eyes before focusing back on the cake, his fork stabbing at another piece, “My butterfly.” He grumbles so lowly you almost don’t hear it.

You smiled at him in thanks for believing in you, opening your mouth to tease him about the cute analogy but not having a chance too since he thought it would be great to shove some cake in your mouth too.

“Whatever you decide to focus it on, I know you’re gonna make it work. I believe in you Y/N, I hope you believe me now when I say the she-devil will leave you in charge when she’s done.”

Now that was harder to believe, almost laughable honestly but you appreciated his kind words of support. You couldn’t help the slight smile that crept up on your face as you thought of the way to phrase the following words.

You finished chewing the cake in your mouth and occupied yourself by swirling your straw around the ice left in your cup. Jungkook watched you intently, picking up the slight nerves you clearly had but decided to just observe. He could tell you had something you wanted to blurt out by the way you nibbled on your lips.

“I actually have an idea,” you started off, pursing your lips slightly as your raised your head back up to make direct eye contact with him, seeing his head tilted slightly and his eyes giving you a questioning look, “I was wondering how you—well all of you actually—would feel being the subject I cover for my spread?”

His jaw dropped slightly at that, his eyes bouncing around the cafe almost as if he was trying to bring himself back to reality by remembering his current location. “Are you serious?” He wasn’t sure if you knew what that would mean to him or his band. The magazine you worked for was not some small internet zine that a handful of people read, no, it was one of the most influential magazines sold in Korea. If you guys wrote that an ugly orange beret was the next big thing then dammit every ugly orange beret would be bought and worn the following day.

The amount of publicity their band would get could potentially boost up their career and that’s exactly why they were your first option. They deserved to be heard, to move on from playing small clubs to bigger venues. They deserved to be able to fully live out their dreams and if you focusing a full spread on them helped in the slightest then you would do so.

“Yes, I’m serious Jungkook.”

A laugh left his lips as he covered his face with his palms, shaking his head in disbelief. “Holy shit...why?”

“Because just how you believe in me, I believe in you.”

Day One Hundred & Twenty

“Is this okay?” Taehyung asked you as he adjusted the leopard printed blanket he currently had draped around his shoulders. Him and the rest of Bangtan were in a studio taking shots for the spread next month and to put it simply, they were fucking nervous. They weren’t models, they didn’t consider themselves fashion savvy, they were completely out of their comfort zone but you assured them that they had to do this in order for the spread to be accepted by your boss.

As much as you wanted to slap pictures of them on stage in all their glory, this was a lifestyle and fashion magazine so you were going to tie those two together with their music and fucking run with it.

“Yes, you look great Tae!” You shouted behind the photographer, stepping back a little to give him room to work. Your back bumped into something and you stopped and glanced behind you, smiling widely when you saw Jungkook grinning back down at you.

“You look so hot bossing people around.” 

He was one to talk, he looked so hot just standing there doing absolutely nothing. His black hair was laying messily on his head, he had a bit of light red eyeshadow around his eyes to give the pictures more of a pop, his outfit of choice being a leather jacket and a white tee tucked into tight black skinny jeans and his classic black boots.

“You just look hot.”

His lips turned up into a smirk, his hands tucking themselves in the pocket of his jeans, “Oh yeah?”

You hummed in response, letting your eyes gaze up and down his body and he clearly wasn’t opposed to your attention since he took it upon himself to give you a small twirl, finishing it off with a laugh.

“This still doesn’t feel real Butterfly.” He admitted as he threw his arm around your shoulder and brought you closer to his side, the both of you watching Taehyung posing for the camera and trying not to laugh as Hoseok teased him from the sidelines.

“Why?”

Jungkook took a deep breath and paused for a moment, letting everything really hit him. “I don’t know. I mean, we’re a random fucking local band that plays shows in a hole in the wall bar yet we’re here being styled by some of the best people. Shit, I’ve never had my makeup done for me so I didn’t expect to like it this much, but I know the girl who did it is probably top notch and this photographer,” His finger pointed at him and you reached out and grasped it, deciding to just hold his hand so people wouldn’t think they were being talked about, “He obviously knows what he’s fucking doing!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at him and his excited little ramble, “It’s just crazy that in a few weeks we’re not just gonna be known by the fifty fans that come see our shows every now and then. I just…we don’t know how to repay you for putting your ass on the line for us.”

His gaze moved from Taehyung back down to you, choosing to give the top of your head a kiss. The gesture was sweet and made your heart swell while also making a slight blush rise on your cheeks so you wrapped both of your arms around him to bury your face in his chest so he wouldn’t see how easily affected you were.

“Okay Y/N, last two to shoot are Jungkook and Hoseok.” Ildo the talented photographer of the day called out to you. He had finished shooting Taehyung and was now moving to sit behind his monitor and review the shots he had just taken. You and Jungkook walked over to stand behind him and beside Taehyung who was looking at the monitor in awe at the shots just taken.

“Wow, I can just hear the panties dropping at these shots.”

Jungkook reached over and smacked his shoulder as they laughed loudly, the pair of them starting to bring up inside jokes that you knew nothing about. You scooted a bit closer to Ildo as you both flicked through the images. “These are gonna look super nice. We’re doing the group shot last right?”

“Thanks Ildo, you’re amazing and yeah we’ll save that one for the end.”

Jungkook was guided to the white backdrop, one of the hair stylists fidgeting with his hair for a moment before deeming him decent and retreating back to allow his shoot to begin. He had the same leopard blanket Taehyung had on draped over his shoulders for a few of the pictures. Whether or not they were models they were very handsome men that knew the sex appeal they carried with them, that was obviously thanks to the women that went to their shows and fawned over them, and you were extremely grateful for that because your boss would’ve thrown these in the garbage if they screamed amature. 

Ildo easily instructed him on how to tilt his head and where to look for the shot to come out nicely and before you knew it you were halfway through Hoseok's shot. Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook were standing around goofing off while they waited for him to finish because the final group shot was next. 

“I need to fix my instagram theme.” Jimin mumbled out, tapping filters he couldn’t decide between on a selfie of his. 

“Why?”

He frowned at the photo, not sure if he liked it enough to post yet so he passed it over to Jungkook, “Because no one wants to follow you if your theme fucking sucks Taehyung.”

Taehyung looked completely confused, pulling his phone out to open up the instagram app. He tapped on his own page and scrolled down and back up, “I never realized?”

Jungkook handed the phone back to Jimin, “Yeah post it, it looks good. And Tae, that’s because your instagram is amazing without you even trying.”

Taehyung continued to scroll through his own photos, a small pout on his face as he craned his head over to see Jimin's instagram page from his phone. 

“You have like a weird art hoe meets alternative vibe going on.” That caught your attention so you made a mental note to bring it up during your interview later. 

“Thanks I think?”

All of you turned your head around to focus on Hoseok when you heard excessive clapping and excited screams coming from him, signaling the end of his shoot. You rubbed your palms together and grinned at the boys, “Alright, almost done guys. Just a few shots of you together and we can go get some food in our system before we figure out the interview.”

They all shot you a thumbs up before making their way back towards the lit up backdrop, all of them acting a lot more casual with being in front of the camera now that they were a group. 

The shoot wrapped up fairly quickly after that, you shouting out thanks to the entire crew and the guys joining in as everyone gathered their things. Jimin had suggested you guys go to this new pizza spot near by, saying he invited the others to join in if that was fine. 

You honestly didn’t mind it, as long as you were able to get a page written on them during this outing it didn’t matter who was there. 

Jungkook fished his keys out of his pocket, jingling them in front of everyone before approaching his thirsty car. “Shotgun!” Taehyung yelled before bolting to the passenger side, not getting a chance to throw it open since Jungkook clicked the lock button. 

“You wish.”

“That’s his wet dream’s seat Taehyung.”

They both started cackling when Jungkook sent them daggers for eyes. “Am I the wet dream?” You teased, giving him a smirk as you pressed your hand to your chest acting like you were flattered. 

“Yes!” Shouted both Tae and Jimin, Jungkook only mumbling a timid yeah. 

“Kinky. I’ll take it.”

Day One Hundred & Thirty-three 

You were currently in your building’s conference room, your thoughts going a million miles a minute as you adjusted the giant blow ups of the mock spread you were in charge of. 

The next months issue was dropping in a few days and considering your boss had been out of town for two weeks, if she didn’t approve of it she would scrap it, maybe fire you for pulling out amateur work and then go for the backup spread that one of your coworkers was told to provide just in case. 

You tucked in your floral button up and adjusted the cuffed sleeves for the final time before taking a deep breath and plastering a smile on your face as everyone who was in charge of your job walked in, your boss being the last one. 

“Good morning everyone!”

Everyone was shuffling into their seats but spoke a greeting in return, their attention automatically going to the huge posters behind you. 

“Are you ready to impress me Y/N?” Your boss, Mijoo’s voice cut through the room, a smile on her face as she looked at you. 

She may be extremely bossy, and strict, and sometimes bitchy but you couldn’t argue with the fact that she knew what she was doing and she put her trust in you so that had to count for something. 

“Yes, of course!” You cleared your throat and stepped to your left, fully letting your spread show behind you. 

“With winter approaching us it’s obvious to step away from fresh and inviting looks in fashion, everyone wants to bundle up and stay warm but something about the same old burgundy scarves and black trench coats is very–“

“Last year.” Mijoo cut in and you nodded in agreement with her, everyone else in the room nodding along. 

“Exactly, I think we can switch it up by gravitating towards a more alternative look for winter.” You gestured towards the group photo of Bangtan on the first poster, they were clad in layers and boots. 

“It would be a nice switch from the typical cutesy fashion worn for winter, it will give us an edge compared to other magazines. This style is meant for layering, it looks very messy but every article has purpose and it feels like every outfit has a story that comes with it.”

Mijoo stood from her seat and walked over, her gaze on the posters and not at you. She was intrigued, that much you could tell. She stood in front of what would be the first page, a compilation edited like polaroids of the four of them with their signatures under their respective picture, “It has an edge to it, and it’s very androgynous.” 

You stepped aside as she continued to make her way through every photo, her eyes skimming the words you wrote with an approving look on her face, “Who are they?”

Her light brown eyes looked directly at you this time and you almost choked on your spit from trying to speak so fast, “A band, Bangtan. I know we never cover music artists but when I saw them perform live their sense of style combined with their sound is what really drew me in. I feel like this sense of fashion is heavily influenced by the artists who really birthed it so it just seemed right to have the focus of the spread be people who really live and breathe this.”

“Interesting.” Was all she said, taking a few steps back to see the spread in full with her hands crossed in front of her, “Were these the only pictures shot?”

“No, there’s still plenty of single and group shots that didn’t make the cut.” You were reaching for your phone to open up dropbox and show her but the sound of her own cell going off stopped you.

She reached into her pocket and fished it out, looking at the screen in annoyance before answering with a What? You looked away from her, giving your own work a look of pride because damn were you proud of this spread. Directing everything on your own and managing to put together a team that brought your vision to life really made you feel like you had found your niche.

“Well, pass a few photos you deem worthy of being cover material over to Sunmi and we’ll have it finalized and ready for production in a few days. If the general public is as intrigued by this as I am then you’ll be seeing more opportunities like this in the future. Good work Y/N.”

And with that she was walking out of the conference room, everyone else calling out a good job as well before packing up and leaving you standing there with your jaw basically on the floor. She not only loved your spread but she deemed it cover material, that was big for not only you but Bangtan as well and you couldn’t wait to let Jungkook know.

Your fingers were shaking so hard as you sat in your car with your phone in your hands, your contact list was lighting up the screen while you scrolled through it to find his name and when you finally did you pressed your finger down so hard on his name you were surprised your screen didn’t crack.

C’mon, c’mon…

“Y/N!” He shouted your name out in greeting, and you couldn’t help the giant smile that came across your face.

“Jungkook!”

“What’s up Butterfly?” You could hear the faint sounds of drums in the background, making it pretty clear he was currently practicing with the rest of the guys.

“Are you with the others?”

Shuffling was heard through the phone and from how clear his voice sounded you could tell he had his palm cupped over the microphone, “Why? Is this your way of initiating phone sex? Should I go somewhere alone?”

“Oh my god are you guys about to have phone sex?” Taehyung shouts out, having heard Jungkook’s hushed words from beside him. A deep laugh fills the air as he dodges a punch aimed at his stomach, running away towards Jimin with his bass hanging low on his shoulders.

Your face instantly went red as you let out a small scream followed by laughter, “No! And that’s not how I would initiate phone sex, c’mon romance isn’t dead-”  Jungkook starts apologizing immediately, “I would obviously send some kind of nude before calling.” And the apology was over and now he was joining in on your laughter.

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time, but to answer your question, yes I’m with the guys.”

“Cool, put me on speaker!”

Jungkook was confused by that but said okay regardless and did just that. His phone was held in his right hand as he waved them all closer together, Jimin and Taehyung had been fucking around with their instrument making a parody of a The 1975 song as Hoseok recorded them with a smile on his face.

“Hey!” He shouted out obnoxiously, a giant smile on his face as he watched his friends have fun. They all turned to him, Jimin falling to his knees as he played a random guitar solo with his head tilted back and a cheeky smile. “Y/N’s on the phone, she has something she needs to tell us.”

The last notes Jimin played echoed out in the room as they all quieted down, that honestly made them just a tad bit nervous and they were kind of assuming that you were going to inform them that their spread had been cut. Nonetheless they all gathered around the phone as Jungkook raised it up and told you they were ready for whatever news you had.

“Alright,” you began, trying not to let too much of the excitement seep out of your voice, “you know how I told you guys I was going to be in charge of a spread for next months issue?” They all hummed in agreement, Taehyung chewing on his fingernails while Hoseok continued to record with his phone. 

“Well, about that. Uhm, how would you guys feel if maybe instead of that-” their hearts instantly dropped for a moment, “we make you guys the cover of next month’s issue too?”

All of them looked at each other in a state of shock, Jungkook screaming are you fucking serious into the phone while Jimin dropped to the floor with his hands over his head, Taehyung walking around the room with his hands in the same position and a smile on his face as Hoseok hopped around and recorded the whole thing.

Your laughed mixed into the sounds in their room over the phone, “Yes I’m serious! My boss loved the spread and told me to send our editor some more shots of you guys to make a cover for the issue. So get ready to see your faces plastered all over Korea on February 1st!”

Day One Hundred & Sixty

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Jungkook questioned as he stood in your doorway, a black leather jacket framing his body, a sliver of his dark red printed button up peeking out between the zipper. 

You weren’t staring at him, you were just admiring him entirely, especially his new hair which he had decided to dye a bright red. “Because you’re fucking hot Jungkook.”

A bashful smile took over his face and he let his gaze fall to the floor before trying to play it off, “You’re one to talk, also, why do our outfits kind of match?”

You also had on a pair of black jeans, a thick belt around your waist and a dark printed button up tucked into them with a leather jacket in your arms. “Haven’t you heard? This group called Bangtan says this is totally in right now.”

Both of you were currently on your way to the nearest magazine stand to pick up as many copies of it as you could, a copy for both of you to frame as memorabilia, some copies for Jungkook's family, a few for them to toss out at an upcoming show they have, and some more for safe keeping. 

Your eyes were a little dry due to the fact that you could barely sleep, tossing and turning the entire night with butterflies in your stomach at the thought of your first spread dropping today, but you were so full of excitement, mostly for Jungkook. The look in his eyes was one of achievement, this was something he and the guys only dreamed of and to have it happen was like a daydream he never wanted to end. 

“So,” Jungkook started off, his hand reaching out and intertwining his fingers with yours, “heard any good feedback yet?”

Your thumb rubbed the back of his hand gently, “Yes actually! I got a couple of articles linked to me of other fashion outlets talking about you guys and mentioning our interview. So far everyone loves you guys.”

That just made his heart burst in his chest, he could only imagine what his mom was thinking as she sat in her cozy little house in Busan, maybe she had stumbled upon the magazine spread or an article on her own before Jungkook could surprise her but he was hoping that wasn’t the case, he wanted to have this moment with her. 

“This is so...wild to me.” He spoke softly, his eyes downcast and a bashful smile on his face as you guys exit your building. “You know that feeling when things finally start to fall into place and you catch yourself thinking that this is it?”

You nodded at that, squeezing his hand in reassurance, “That’s what I feel like right now. Fuck, thats what all of us feel right now. We’ve been dreaming of this for years and the fact that you gave us this opportunity is beyond me.”

That warmed your chest up, you had only known Jungkook for a short amount of time but he had grown into someone special in your life. Every now and then you stumble into someone that makes everything click and he was that person. You wanted to make him happy, going out of your way to just make him smile and this opportunity did all that and more. 

The rest of the walk was spent in silence, Jungkook getting slightly more nervous as you both approached the magazine stand and you felt like you wanted to barf already. You could see the stand in the distance, a small crowd gathered around it to buy the new magazines and you were praying you would hear some good feedback. 

“Good morning.” You greeted the old man stood by the magazines, he greeted you with a smile while he checked out a group of teenage girls. 

“Wait,” one of them whispered before looking down at the magazine, “that looks like him.” 

Her friend looked down as well before looking back up at Jungkook, a small gasp leaving her mouth. “Excuse me!” They called out, tapping Jungkook on the shoulder and bringing him out of his own daze as he stared at his face on a magazine cover. 

“Can you sign this!” Jungkook’s eyes bulged out, almost expecting them to say they were joking but when they stuck out their magazines with giddy expressions he realized they were being serious. You stood beside him with a smile, your phone coming out to take a sneaky picture of this moment because you were sure he would want this memory to be photographed. 

Jungkook’s shaky hands took the sharpie the old man handed him and scribbled out the signature he had been practicing for years, bold strokes of his name on the glossy paper making a feeling of pride taking over when the girls thanked him excitedly and walked away. 

That feeling of being on cloud nine lasted the entire time you guys trekked to the makeshift practice room the guys had in some random shop, a bunch of magazines being clutched in your hands and nearly spilling out when you guys entered the room. 

“Holy shit!” Taehyung laughed out, your eyes drifted around the room until you spotted him and you burst out laughing because he was sat surrounded by his own pile of magazines. 

“I guess we all had the same idea then huh?” Jimin spoke out, he was sitting criss crossed on the floor with the magazine opened up to their spread. 

Apparently so, because all of you had a pile of magazines to share, to keep and just for the sake of having. This was meaningful memorabilia, something you all could hopefully look back at years from now, when you were all successful in your own way, and see the moment where it all seemed to take off.

“I honestly want to plaster a hundred copies on my bedroom wall as makeshift wallpaper.” Hoseok spoke as he flipped through the pages containing the interview, his eyes skimming the words typed on the paper, eyes squinting as he recalls the way you all had bantered throughout it.

“Oh my god, imagine when you bring a girl over and she sees hundreds of you staring back at her on the bed.” Taehyung snickered out as he took a photo of a magazine against the patterned rug he was on top of. 

Jungkook giggled to himself before telling you he was going to facetime his mom and walking to a far corner of the room. 

Jimin was sorting through a bag he had beside him, pulling out a flyer and handing it to you with a grin on his face. It was a red flyer, the words Hope World on the top with the date right beside it, June 26th. 

“We’re headlining this festival with our friends. We actually had this planned before the whole magazine spread but tickets dropped today so this timing is perfect.”

Underneath the title was a group picture that hadn’t made the cut for the magazine spread, all of them looking absolutely amazing. Right beside them was a photo of Jin, the last time you had seen him he was drunk as fuck and not as put together but you couldn’t deny the fact that he was handsome. And right underneath him was a photo of Yoongi, someone you remember meeting at the halloween party, the name Agust D being right below him. 

“We actually got a call a few minutes ago saying that tickets sales went through the roof and just sold out.”

You finally looked up from the flyer and met Jimin’s eyes, creased into half moons from excitement. “Holy shit, really?”

“Y/N, we weren’t expecting to get close to hitting capacity and today we get a call saying its completely sold out.” Taehyung interrupted, a giddy smile on his face. 

“Obviously we aren’t Coachella over here expecting over half a million people but considering who we are we never thought it’d sell out.”

At that, Jungkook walked back over, dabbing his cheeks lightly as he slid his phone back into his pockets. “Sell out what?” He asked curiously, sliding his arm across your shoulder. 

“Hope World Fest dude!” Hoseok shouted. 

“Wait what?”

He slid his phone back out and called someone frantically, chewing on his bottom lip as he waiting for whoever it was to answer. 

“Namjoon!” He shouted into the receiver making everyone flinch and the person on the other end chuckle, the sound filling up the small space through Jungkook’s speaker. 

“Hey JK, what’s up man?”

“Don’t whats up me, did we really sell out Hope World Fest?”

Namjoon only laughed again, “Sure did. Sells went through the roof this morning.”

Jungkook could only stare at the floor, the shock rendering him speechless. His mind was currently going into overdrive. This was all happening too fast he felt like he was going to puke everything up. 

His band mates felt the exact same, they’ve had this band since the last year of high school. They were used to playing house shows, the occasional club and bar but never a festival. The closest they had gotten to playing a show similar in size would be the one time they opened up for a band called The Rose but that had been a year or so back before they blew up. 

When Namjoon first spoke of creating this festival a little over a year ago they never thought they’d be a headliner. Namjoon knew everyone, he had so many massive bands and solo artists and rappers on the bill for the festival but he always insisted on having them headline. And when the news that you’d be writing about them for your magazine came up he was sold on the idea. 

Seeing everything come full circle like it was right now was too surreal. 

“JK? Uh...can you guys confirm he still has a pulse?” 

Jimin stood up and plucked the device from Jungkook’s hands, pressing it closer to his lips instead, “He’s breathing, might be in shock but he’ll be alright.”

“Okay good,” he laughed, “by the way, all the travel arrangements to Busan are set i’ll send you all the itinerary. Is Y/N there?”

“Yeah, I’m here!” You nervously spoke up. 

“Oh, hey! I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to make it but there's an extra flight ticket with your name on it if you decide to go.”

You thanked him and let him say his goodbyes, Jimin handing you the phone with a smile before going back to what he was doing. You slid it into the front pocket on his jeans, giving his cheek a tiny poke to make him come back to reality. His nose crinkled up at the action, a smile spreading across his face as he cupped both your cheeks in return and planted an obnoxious kiss against your lips.

The both of you lingered in the practice room for another hour, talks of the show they played a few days back that you missed due to work, all of them taking turns to show you whatever footage fans had captured of the show, the boys going through their social media, having mini freak outs as they saw their followers increase before their eyes. There was just something about witnessing this moment in their life that filled you with happiness, the sparkle in all of their eyes as they watched views of their music videos increase every few minutes. It was absolutely priceless and made it so much harder to leave once you finally said your goodbyes, leaving the room with your hands clasped together and the biggest smiles on your face. 

Your phone vibrates just as you reach Jungkook’s car once more, a small feeling of anxiety bubbles in the pit of your stomach when you pull the device out and see Mijoo’s name on your screen. It’s a short and simple message, Amazing spread, great feedback. Keep it up Y/N.

Jungkook sees you grinning to yourself, pressing the device to your chest lightly before locking it again and placing it on your lap. “Good news?”

You nod at that, “Yeah, my boss just sent me a good job text.”

“I’m telling you, she secretly loves you and her world would fall apart if you weren’t there to help her. This is just her moment of realization.” He’s giving you the cutest smile, and he’s about to keep going, already having a novel ready to gush about how amazing you are at your job but his phone sounds off next.

He hesitates to answer but you motion for him to accept the call so he does. He has to place the call on speaker since he’s started to drive already, “JK?” A voice fills the sound of the car.

“Yugyeom, whats up brother?”

A laugh sounds out from the speaker, “What do you mean whats up, your face is plastered all around Seoul from what I can see. Can’t walk more than 30 feet without seeing all of you on a magazine stand or on some girls phone screen.”

At that, you can’t control the smile that spreads across your face, looking to the side and seeing Jungkook once again had the giddiest expression on his face. “What can I say? There’s no escaping me.”

Yugyeom laughs again, “Honestly how did you guys manage to pull this off?”

Theres a beat of silence, Jungkook nibbling on his lip before his arm reaches over the center console and rests on your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze, “It’s all thanks to my girlfriend.” You can practically hear the intake of breath from the other line, no doubt Yugyeom was about to start firing questions out before Jungkook interjected, “Who can hear everything you’re saying because you’re on speaker.”

“Noted.” You laugh quietly to yourself, “well tell your girlfriend-”

“Y/N.” He interrupted again.

“Y/N, right, tell Y/N she’s currently winning the title of best girlfriend. Anyways, I gotta go. I’ll see you in Busan?”

Jungkook confirmed he would and ended the call, suddenly looking very nervous and you know why. Your hands comes down to grasp his thats still on your thigh, you slip your fingers underneath his palm and weave your fingers together, “So, I’m your girlfriend now huh?”

And now his face is warming up, a soft blush creeping onto his cheeks in embarrassment. If he’s being honest, he’s been calling you his girlfriend to all of his friends for a few weeks now even though he hasn’t technically asked.

He lifts your clasped hands and brings them to his lips, planting a gentle kiss on the back of your hand before bringing them back down to rest on the center console, “Please?” He very cutely mumbles out.

“Jungkook, I’d love to be your girlfriend.”

His body sags into the drivers seat in relief, his head falling back momentarily, “Thank god because I kinda told my mom you were my girlfriend already when I face timed her earlier.” 

That just makes this warmth blossom in your chest and slowly spread throughout your whole body and you can only giggle to yourself as you give his hand another squeeze and enjoy the drive back to your place.

When you finally do get to your place Jungkook instantly orders take out before saying he’ll be back right back, choosing to go to the convenience store right outside your apartment complex because you both really need alcohol to properly celebrate this magazine spread.

Its still relatively early in the day, the sun only starting to set but you decide to get comfy. You switch into an oversized dark grey shirt and a pair of shorts that your shirt manages to cover and when Jungkook walks back in with bags of alcohol he acknowledges it, “Is this your way of tempting me?”

You look down at your exposed legs, lifting your shirt up slightly to show your shorts with a smile, “Are you telling me its this easy to tempt you?”

He grunts as he sets the bags down on your kitchen table, never taking his eyes off you, “When its you tempting me of course.”

“Mm,” you hum to yourself in thought, plopping onto the couch with a grin, slowly inching your shirt up to once again expose more of your legs, “so then should I throw away all the lingerie I have?”

You only laugh harder when his eyes bulge out, his hands already coming up to protest when your intercom system buzzes to inform you of your delivery downstairs. Jungkook tries to sputter out a sentence in defense but you just point at the intercom, “Can you let him in please?”

He groans and nods before buzzing the delivery man inside the building. He wants to pounce on you at this very moment, you’re just sitting there with your legs folded in front of you, looking comfortable and nonchalant but your thighs are teasing him and he just wants to bite and lick his way up them to your center.

It’s not until your front door buzzes that he’s snapped out of his wet dream of defiling you on your couch. Jungkook begrudgingly turns around and opens the door, you’re covered by the slab of wood so the delivery man is none the wiser to the fact that you’re now lifting your hips up to drag your shorts off of your body.

The sound of rustling has Jungkook turning around, his eyes widening up when you kick off the fabric, your shirt now pulled up to your stomach, showcasing the cute black panties you were currently wearing. When your fingers hook around them as well, Jungkook chokes and closes the door some more to further shield you.

You hold back the laugh you desperately want to let out when you hear him nervously talking to the man, hurrying up the transaction and shutting the door just as you finish sliding off the cotton material off of your legs.

With the door now shut, Jungkook fully turns to you now, your legs are resting innocently on your coffee table, your finger trailing up and down your thigh and over your stomach. The way your legs are placed he can’t see your exposed core but just knowing you’re bare from the waist down has his blood rushing to his cock and he groans.

The bags in his hands rustle as he rushes to set them on top of your table, giving you a glare because you’re not playing fair. How do you expect him to focus on this food now with you sitting on the couch, you’re the only meal he feels like devouring at the moment.

“You’re playing dirty.”

“Am I?” You question with a smile, eyes following him as he rounds the table to get closer to you. His eyes are boring into yours now, a small shake of his head is the only answer he gives you when he reaches the coffee table. Its the only piece of furniture separating you two so he has no qualms about gripping the edge of it and yanking it back completely.

A gasp leaves your lips when your feet thunk onto the floor, the wooden material being yanked away from you as Jungkook hauled it back with a grunt. Now that its no longer in the way he stands inches from you, looking down at your slouched frame, the material of your shirt had slid back down to cover you up and that just wouldn’t do.

You watch on silently when he drops to his knees in front of you, his lips curling up into a smirk when his fingers touch your skin, gently rubbing the skin above your knees and chuckling when your skin breaks out in goosebumps.

“What are you doing?” Your voice is barely a whisper, waiting to see what he would do next. The way he’s staring at you makes that obvious but you needed him to say something first.

His fingers reach the hem of your shirt, toying with the fabric, “I’m going to eat, if thats okay with you.”

He lifts his gaze from your skin back to your eyes, a smile gracing his face when you nod your head at him, “Yeah, perfectly okay.”

Thats all he needs, a squeal leaving you when his hands hook underneath your thighs and yank you down further until your butt reached the edge of the couch, your shirt bunching up around you and giving him a small peak of your center. 

Your  fingers instinctively grip your shirt, tugging the material higher up your body to give him a clear view. A teasing smirk is sent his way when he looks up at you, his eyes narrowing in accusation, “Like I said, you’re not playing fair.”

“Fair shmair, or should we actually eat our chicken before it gets cold?” Jungkook pouts at you even though he knows you’re just poking fun, a scoff leaving his lips when you bring your foot closer to nudge your toes against his chest with a giggle.

“I’m inches from your pussy, wanting to make you feel good, amazing even, and you wanna think about chicken?” He huffs playfully.

One of your hands leaves from its place holding your shirt, reaching forward to slip through his newly dyed red strands, twisting a chunk of it until it curls on his head.

Being the ever competitive person he is, he does you one better, his finger coming up to pinch the skin of your thigh like a child, a smile replacing the adorable pout on his lips when you yelp in shock, your hand moving to swat at his.

“Ow! Now who’s not playing fair?”

Adding insult to injury he has the audacity to snort, “Fair shmair, wanna make you feel good.”

A laugh spills out of you when he starts obnoxiously pressing sloppy kisses onto your thighs, the small huffs of his added laughter hitting your skin as he trails up towards your center, “Jungkook!” You chortle, squirming around from the ticklish feeling.

It’s not until the the sloppy kisses turn into gentle licks, then a soft suck as he reaches your clit that the tone of his name turns into a soft sigh instead.

“Oh, Jungkook.” It comes out playful, a low rasp in your voice as you sigh out and let your body sag into your cushions. He hums in content, his tongue swirling around your clit in a tantalizing manner. His eyes move up to stare at you and sees that your head is pushed back into the dark blue fabric of your couch, your eyes shut and a cheeky smile on your face due to his ministrations.

The chicken was definitely out of your mind now, a victory for Jungkook if he’d say so himself.

His hands haul your thighs higher onto his shoulders, his fingers urging you to tighten your hold on him, push your heels into his back, anything at all and you don’t disappoint.

Your thighs grip the sides of his head a little tighter as you groan out at the way his tongue slithers between your folds, the subtle roll of your hips being welcomed by him as he dragged the flat of his tongue up your slit, collecting the arousal that coated your lips.

One of his hands comes forward, his fingers spreading your folds apart as he spits onto your pussy, his saliva coating your folds as he rubs his spit around. A surprised moan fills the air when he sucks your clit back into his mouth, savoring the way you taste on his tongue. His hands grip your thighs tighter as he hums against you, his lips puckered around your skin as he sucks gently.

“Hmm, is this your way of trying to secure another cover spread?” You tease, your eyes opening up to stare at him while your heels push him closer to you with a giggle.

Jungkook pulls away with a wet smack, his lips glimmering as he grins at you, “That depends, is it working?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, bringing your hand back to his hair to twirl another strand. His eyes flutter shut when you give a soft tug, goosebumps flaring on his body at the sensation, “maybe.”

He lets himself bask in the feeling of you playing with his hair, ignoring the way you impatiently press your heels into the middle of his back. For someone who was trying to act like you weren’t affected, you were doing a pretty shit job at it.

“Jungkook.” You finally whine, the pleading tone in your voice making his lip curl up into a smirk, his eyes opening up and squinting at you.

“What?” He jokes, softly blowing cool air onto your exposed pussy and smiling like a child when it made a shiver run through your body. “Do you not wanna eat the chicken now then or?” He continues, eyes full of mischief thinking you’re about to start begging him.

But oh no, you weren’t a begger, if you wanted something you’d go out and grab it for yourself. So thats exactly what you do, loosening your legs from his shoulders and reaching forward to hook your hands underneath his armpits. Theres a split second of confusion that clouds his face when you recklessly haul him up from between your legs as if his muscle mass was something you could easily drag around.

Jungkook takes a brief moment to acknowledge how hot it was that you were manhandling him around, but only a moment because with the way you yank him up his hand clambers onto the back of the sofa as to no crush you when you force him nearly on top of you. The look on your face has a laugh threatening to escape him when he sees the clear frustration etched onto your features.

“Shut up about the chicken.” You growl, cupping his face and yanking it towards your own, your lips slotting together in a messy kiss. Jungkook wants to laugh, so badly, but the way your tongue slips into his mouth, softly wrapping around his own before pulling back and sucking on his lower lip, the laughter fizzles away.

“Baby,” he tries to mumble in between kisses, his free hand scoping underneath you to try to haul you up from the awkward position you’ve put the two of you in, “Y/N.” He tries again, being muffled by the way you squish his cheeks, his lips puckers out in a way that almost prevents him from kissing you back but that doesn’t stop you from planting them on him as if you’ll never be able to again.

“Butterfly,” he attempts a third time, the word being almost indecipherable but you hear that loud and clear, pulling half an inch away from his swollen lips with a hum of interest, your eyes half lidded and locked on his.

“Here, let me,” he scoops you up and properly arranges you on the couch, your head resting on the cushion by the arm rest while he slots on top of you.

That laugh of his finally bubbles out when you impatiently try to go back to kissing him, his nose scrunching up when your lips miss his mouth entirely, landing on his cheek messily, “You’d rather make out than have me eat your pussy?” He quips, letting his resolve crumble when he starts to kiss you back.

It’s a change of pace, gentle presses of his lips against yours, simmering down the urgency you feel inside until its a slow roll of the tides crashing in. He feels the way you smile against him, your left leg hooking over his hip and bringing him flush to you, “I’d rather fuck you.”

Oh.

Jungkook hums against your mouth, this wouldn’t be the first time you two were intimate, having been on the receiving end of pleasure a few times, during the movie nights you would have and he’d somehow find himself between your legs halfway through whatever motion picture you decided to put on. Jungkook was absolutely a giver, loving to see you falling apart at the hands of him. But this felt different, with you acting so desperate as if you weren’t trying to play hard to get minutes ago, with your lust filled eyes and kiss swollen lips.

It’s not lost on Jungkook, but he loves it too much to comment on it. Loves the way you rut your hips against his, the friction of his jeans on your exposed core making you groan against his mouth in an almost filthy way.

And god does he want to make you feel good, you’ve done so much for him, became such an important part of his life in the span of knowing each other. The infinite amount of selfless acts you’ve done for him is more than he thinks he could ever repay you for, but if you wanted to fuck him then that was a good enough place to start.

“Are you sure?” he manages to ask in between your assault of kisses, the teasing tone to his voice is gone now so you pull back from him, letting him properly catch his breath as he stares down at you.

His wide eyes bore into yours, searching for any sense of hesitation but he finds none. A nod of your head confirms that, your fingers softly caressing the skin of his cheeks as you grin, “Yeah I’m sure, I want you Jungkook.”

Jungkook smiles at that, eyes crinkling up in the most endearing way, “You have me Butterfly.” The sweet nickname he had given you months ago makes you smile right back at him, a silent conversation passing between the two of you as you stare at each other inches apart.

You had him, he was yours, and you knew he meant it.

It becomes a flurry of clothes right after, Jungkook stripping out of the layers he has on with your help, his jacket being tossed behind your couch while you nearly popped the buttons off of his top in your haste to take it off, the red material joining the heap of growing garments on the floor.

“Fuck,” You sigh dreamily when he yanks his pants down, his broad thighs coming out into the world and its almost insulting that he has them caged inside denim all day. A phrase you had told Jungkook months ago pops back into your mind, you mentioned his thighs made great cushions, “wanna ride them.”

That makes Jungkook pause, one leg free from its confines while the other ankle was trapped at the end, the damn skinny jeans being a battle to take off. “What?”

“Your thighs, wanna ride them. Make myself cum on them.”

Jungkook doesn’t know if he hit his head and was currently dreaming because that has to be the absolute hottest words he has ever heard come out of your mouth. The image of you rutting against his thighs, desperate to get yourself off, maybe wearing one of his baggy band shirts as you did so made his aching cock twitch in his briefs. 

A short giggle leaves you when you notice it, “You liked that huh?”

He glares at you as he yanks his pants off his trapped ankle, balling them up and tossing the jeans down like a basketball, now standing in just his black briefs, his cock tenting the fabric of it. 

“Y/N,” he whines with a pout as he steps closer to you once more, “you can’t say that shit to me.”

Another laugh bubbles out, your hands hooking under the hem of your shirt and sliding the loose material off of your body. Its discarded behind you without a care, your tits out on full display as you stretch across your couch teasingly, “Why?”

He groans at the way you’re sprawled out, arms lifted above your head casually with your back slightly arched to allow you to rest your head on the arm rest. Jungkook thought if the phrase paint me like one of your french girls held any real meaning to him it would come to play in this very moment. He wanted to capture this image and hang it on his living room wall, a tangible memory of just how delectable you looked.

“Because, now all I’m thinking about is how hot that would be.”

You make grabby hands at him after he slides out of his underwear, as if you’ve tied an invisible rope to his body and guided him to you, Jungkook makes his way closer. His cock is fully free now, bobbing slightly when he reaches the couch, but he doesn't go further than that. Instead his hands scoop under you, hauling you up much like you had done to him earlier, your knees folded over one arm while the other cradled your upper back. 

“Jungkook!” You shout in surprise, your hand cupping his chest in an attempt to stabilize yourself from the sudden action. 

“I’m not fucking you for the first time on your couch–“

“But it's made of velvet.” You joke, laughing when he rolls his eyes at you with a smile. 

“Even more of a reason not to, good luck cleaning up whatever ungodly fluids get on it.”

He carries you across the living room, his foot nudging open your bedroom door, the eclectic style of your living room flowing into this space as well and Jungkook smiles to himself at how prominent your personality lies within your home. 

“How dirty.” You jest, laughing when he drops you onto your bed, your hands propping yourself up to stare at him as he kneels onto the bed after you. 

Jungkook smirks at you as he crawls towards you, a soft laugh filling the air when he sees you slowly inch back from him, “You think thats dirty?” His eyebrows cock up as he inches closer, enjoying the way you bite your lower lip as you take him in, “Just wait until I’m done with you Butterfly.”

The way Jungkook says that, with his eyes glazing over with lust, the tip of his tongue running along the bottom of his teeth as he prowls forward, sounds promising. You knew Jungkook had a way with his mouth but he seemed extra determined today to make you feel good, maybe it was the overwhelming joy he felt about the cover spread but you didn’t mind it.

“Mm, show me.” One hand comes up towards his shoulders, his proximity allowing your fingertips to trail along his skin down onto his chest, tracing the simple script he has marked on it.

“You actually gonna let me this time?”

You purse your lips, slowly leaning back until you’re once again flat on the bed, Jungkook hovering over you with his hands sinking into the mattress on either side of you.

“Yeah, i’ll let you.”

His head tilts slightly at your words, a curious smile gracing his lips in an almost taunting way. Jungkook clearly had something up his sleeve and when he decides to flop onto his side next to you, with his head near your headboard and that same smile spreading further across his face, it spells it out for you.

“Come here then.” He motions with his hands, slight rolls of his fingers in a come hither action leading you to his face and you have never wanted anything more.

You crawl over to him, swing your left leg over his body until your core is hovering above his face, your position allowing you to see the way his hard cock rests against his stomach.

Jungkook’s fingers trail up your thighs until they reach the juncture of where they meet your hips, softly digging into your flesh as he eases you down towards his awaiting mouth.

The small sighs of his breath hit your skin, a feeling of exhilaration spreading throughout you at being in this position with him. His thumb softly caresses your skin as he pulls you even closer, his nose nudging against your folds slightly. A soft whimper is let out when his tongue trails up your slit, short and gentle licks swirling around your clit to get you started.

When his tongue parts your folds, softly sinking into your entrance, you hunch forward, your arms seeking purchase on his hips to hold you steady. The noisy ways he slurps at your cunt, licking up any ounce of wetness coating your folds and dripping out of you has you moaning out, your jaw dropping slightly as he tugs you further onto his face.

Jungkook is lost in you, surrounded by your scent and the way you taste on his tongue, the soft moans of his name filling his ears and lulling him into a trance as he pleasure you, he doesn’t register the way you lean forward. Your sights were set on his cock, a small puddle of precum pooling around his tip, a soft shade of pink with the prettiest veins surrounding it. It was just beginning to find its place in your mouth.

The weight of it feels heavy in your hand as you wrap your fingers around it, the slight throbbing you feel being a clear indicator of just how much he enjoyed pleasing you.

He groans against your cunt when you give him an experimental pump, your fingers wrapping around the base of his length, a slight twist in your wrist as you come up towards his tip. The leaking beads of precum coat your palm, leaving a sticky trail in its path as you repeat the motion once more, the slight huffs of breath are felt against you as Jungkook tries to focus on you and you only.

Its not until he feels the softness of your lips against his tip that he finally pulls away from your dripping core, “Butterfly what are you doing?” He rasps out, his fingers digging into your flesh harder when you pop the tip of his aching cock into your mouth, soft kitten like licks on his mushroom head that has his stomach caving in.

“Making you feel good too.” Is all you mumble out before taking him all the way in. He feels like the wind gets knocked out of him when you sink fully down in one go, the tip of his length nudging against the back of your throat with no signs of resistance from you and Jungkook groans.

His head is thrown back against your pillows at the feeling of your warm mouth enveloping his entire cock, the wet noises following suit only making his toes curl. You suckle his length when you slide back up, hollowing your cheeks to suck for a moment before sinking back down with a wet slurp.

“Fuck.” He groans out, lifting his head back up to once again meet your center.

His lips wrap around your messy clit, giving a harsh suck as one of his hands trails off your thigh and towards your center. His fingers circle your entrance, coated in a film of your arousal before he sinks a digit in, feeling your walls tighten around it as he starts to thrust into you, intent on stretching you open for his cock. You were absolutely soaked, his mouth covered in your wetness and he wanted to drown in you, with your thighs caging him in as you quivered on top of him.

A small hiss leaves your mouth when he sinks a second finger in, scissoring them apart before fucking them into you with more purpose, distracting you enough to pop off of his cock, leaving your fingers wrapped around it loosely as you hunch forward. Your oncoming release creeps up on you, making every nerve in your body tingle as you feel it building up.

“Jungkook, fuck-” You whine out, a subtle roll of your hips starting up that he welcomes whole heartedly, “I’m cumming, shit-” his fingers urge you to roll onto his tongue faster as he uses his other hand to continue fucking into you. A final roll of his tongue against your bundle of nerves is what sends you over the edge, a sob of his name filling the air as you cum.

Your knees give out on you, dropping you further onto his face but he has no complaints, moaning in content and continuing to slurp against your pussy, his tongue flicking against your clit as you come down, your skin prickling with pleasure as the sparks spread out on your body.

Jungkook slips his fingers out of you slowly, letting you catch your breath for a brief moment as your hearing returns and the room comes back into focus, the small spots in your vision clearing up as you float back down.

When you move to properly sit up as to not suffocate him thats when his vice like grip returns, both hands digging into your hips harder than before and forcing you back onto his face with a short laugh that showed he was up to no good.

“Nngh, Kook,” you groan when he reattaches his lips around your clit, strong pulsating sucks flaring up the tight coil in your stomach once more. The after effects of your orgasm being too fresh in your system, the tingles spreading out throughout your body as he continued the torturous rhythm he had going, hurdling you to another release embarrassingly fast.

“Shit, so good.” You mewl and his eyes shut, there was nothing Jungkook would love more than to hear you pant and moan about how good he made you feel for the rest of his life.

He feels your thighs tense above him as your second orgasm rushes over you in a more calming feeling than the first. Your bones feel like jello now, a warmth flowing across your limbs as you moan his name out like a mantra.

Jungkook finally pulls back with a sigh, his lower face covered in a sheen of your cum that his tongue comes out to lick up. “Fucking delicious.” He groans out, releasing your thighs and giving your ass a gentle slap.

You let yourself flop off of him, your knees nearly knocking into his head but all he can do is laugh at the fucked out look on your face as you try to catch your breath again on the bed, your limbs twisted about in a careless manner.

He sits himself up, his cock once again resting against his stomach and making the small puddle of precum near his belly button drip down. His fingers trace up your quivering thighs, enjoying the subtle twitching he had caused with a smirk on his face.

“You still wanna fuck me baby?”

Your eyes flutter open, not even realizing when you had shut them in the first place, but when you focus back in Jungkook is hovering above you with a sweet smile on his face as if he hadn’t let you get a taste of the good life just now.

“After that? Of course I do.”

Your legs fall open as you say that, leaving your messy folds on display for him, covered in his spit and your cum. “You see how messy you are already, is my Butterfly that excited for my cock?”

A whimper leaves your mouth when he gently slaps his cock over your pussy, the head of it nudging against your sensitive clit when he starts to rut against you. His thick length spreads your folds apart, your arousal coating his aching cock every time he thrusts forward.

“Jungkook.” You cry, utterly desperate as your hips roll up into his to match his motions.

“I got you baby,” he grunts out, forcing himself to pull away from you. His eyes start to roam your room, looking at either night stand on the sides of your bed and you grin when you realize what he’s searching for.

“Left side.” You point towards the top drawer and he smiles, reaching out to pull the drawer open and slip out the squared packet he was in search of. He tears it open with his teeth, discarding the foil aside as he slips the condom on, a small groan escaping him as he squeezes his length on the way down.

“Fuck, gonna make you feel so good.” He sighs as he nudges his cock head against your entrance, a teasing motion as he grasps his length in his hand, circling around it.

“Please Jungkook.” You plead, your thighs spreading further apart as he shushes you gently, easing his cock into you inch by inch. The girth of him is spearing you open, your pussy spreading apart as he drives his cock forward until he bottoms out in one go, the both of you gasping out when he sinks in to the hilt.

His hips are flush against you, his palms placed on your inner thighs to keep you spread open for him, his eyes shut softly when your sensitive walls flutter around his length. Jungkook had found his new favorite view point, looking down at you, seeing his thick cock splitting you open as you lay beneath him with your fingers clutching your sheets, your mouth dropped open in a silent moan as you pleaded for him to start fucking you.

He smirks above you, replacing his hands to rest by your sides on the mattress as he rolls his hips back, beginning a rough pace as he pounds into you, every thrust of his hips making a cry bubble out of you as his cock curved just right inside of your pussy.

“God,” you gasped out, throwing your head back as he hit your g-spot just right, your cunt spasming around him every time he thrust back in, “so good.”

He moans in response as he leans forward his mouth enveloping one of your nipples as he does so, swirling his tongue around your bud as he fucks you like his life depended on it. Your hands tangle in his hair once more, freely yanking and tugging on it just the way he liked it, the slight sting in his scalp surging his hips forward with more force.

Jungkook releases your nipple with a slight pop, your pebbled bud covered in a coat of his spit as he looks up at you, seeing your face screwed up in pleasure. He can feel the way your walls pulsate around his cock, your thighs quivering as your third orgasm approaches.

“Fuck baby,” he groans out, his head leveling out with yours as he rocks into you, your hands wrapping around his torso to help you ground yourself as your body gets jostled up with every thrust of his hips.

“You close?” He whispers into your ear, one of his hands coming up towards his mouth, his tongue licking a broad stripe onto his palm before he snakes it down your torso, connecting his fingers with your sensitive clit.

A choked gasp leaves your mouth when he starts to rub tight circles on it, your cunt tightening even more around his length as he does so.

“Shit, y-yes–“ you practically sob, your nails digging into his back, hearing him hiss at the slight pain. “Jungkook,” you plead out, your eyes locking onto his, your brows furrowed together as your mouth dropped open.

“What do you want love?” He wonders, pressing a gentle kiss onto your lips before pulling back, not stopping the intoxicating roll of his hips. A small shudder flows through him as he feels his own orgasm make its presence known, the way your walls are sucking him in making it harder for him to focus on anything else.

“Can you–“ you get cut off with a moan, your thighs lifting up to hook your legs around his waist, desperately trying to tug him closer to you, “spit in my mouth, please.”

Jungkook groans at your request, his thrusts stuttering slightly as he nods vigorously, “Fuck, anything you want Butterfly.”

You think you could actually cry with the way his cock fucks into you, your toes curling in pleasure, more so when you drop your mouth open further for him. His eyes are hazy with lust as he stares down at you, mouth open and waiting for him to fill up and he swears he can cum just from this visual.

Jungkook’s lips pucker up as he collects spit from the back of his throat, letting it pool behind his lips before he opens up and lets the drool pass onto your mouth, the glob of his spit sitting on your tongue for a moment before you pull your tongue back into your mouth and swallow. Your eyes roll back into your mouth with a moan before sticking it back out for more, “So hot,” he groans out as he repeats his actions again, his fingers not letting up as they stroke your clit.

Your breath hitches in your throat as he starts to fuck deeper into you, his cock brushing against the sensitive spot inside of you that has you keening, “Fuck r-right there, nngh please Kook.��� You whine out and hes not going to deny you, maintaining the angle that has you delirious on your bed, your body quivering underneath his as your orgasm finally crashes down over you, setting your body ablaze as he fucks you through it.

His fingers pull away from your overly sensitive clit, hearing the small gasps and whimpers leaving your lips as the pleasure lights you up. Your eyes fall shut once more, bright spots flashing behind your lids as your pussy spasms around him, a small gasp of your name leaving his lips as you milk the orgasm out of him.

Jungkook’s hips lose their rhythm, his mind heady with pleasure as he starts fucking into you desperately. His hips smack into the back of your thighs, forcing himself deeper into you as he cums hard, emptying himself into the condom inside of you with a deep groan of your name, soft pants following suit as the pleasure fizzles out within him, lulling him into a calm sense of clarity as he looks down at you.

You’re yanked back to the present when he starts to plant kisses on your face, gently bringing you back as he shallowly thrusts into you until fully satisfied.

“You okay?” He questions softly, pressing a kiss to your nose before moving onto your cheeks and then your mouth.

“Mm, yeah.” You mewl, letting your legs unhook from his waist as he pulls out of you slowly, the feeling of being empty making a pout form on your lips. Jungkook snickers when he sees it, pressing a hard kiss against it as he laughs and sits himself up.

As he’s sat on his haunches his eyes are glued to your swollen cunt, covered in your orgasm and the lube of the condom, your quivering thighs coming together to cover the view from him with a short giggle.

“Oh are you shy now? All of a sudden.” He teases, his hand playfully swatting at your thighs before he stands up and slides his condom off, tying off the end and tossing it into the small bin by your night stand.

“No,” you laugh as you prop yourself up, “but with that face you were making I had to hide the goods before you got any other ideas.”

He joins you in your laughter, his hands reaching forward to yank you towards him, your face pressed against his chest as he stood at the edge of your bed. His arms are wrapped around you, the rumble of his laughter being felt from your proximity.

“Hey,” you start out softly, pulling your face away from him, a sly smile spreading out that he eyes inquisitively, “can we go eat that chicken now?”

He scowls at you immediately, his facade being cracked as his lips curl up into a smile, a devious glint in his eyes that you spot instantly. A squeal leaves your lips when you feel his fingers dig into your back, swatting him away from you as you get off the bed with a laugh.

Jungkook stomps behind you as you exit the bedroom on your shaky legs, entering the living room and bending forward to scoop up your previously discarded shirt from the floor and putting it back on to cover the goods you knew Jungkook would be after.

You hear his footsteps behind you as you approach the kitchen, your hands busying themselves as you untie the plastic bag holding the food you two had ordered, pretending to not give him any attention as he walked your way, still fully naked in all of his glory.

He shakes his head slightly when you pull out a piece of chicken and take a bite, your eyes squinting up at him as you smile around it, “You’re never gonna play fair huh?” He questions as he stands beside you, plucking out the chicken from your hand and taking a bite of his own.

“Fair shmair–“ you yelp out when his palm reaches out and smacks your bare ass, the slap sounding out in your otherwise quiet apartment.

“Remind me to make sure we get our own room in Busan.” He smirks as he continues munching on the chicken, fighting the urge to laugh at the face you give him, acting as if you weren’t already having the same thoughts he was.

“Yeah, what do you think we’re gonna have a fuck fest?” You joke, as you sort through the alcohol bag he also brought, pulling out a can of beer and cracking it open.

He extends the half eaten chicken towards your lips, offering you another bite which you take. “Oh I know we’re gonna have a fuck fest. Are you joking, good luck trying to escape my glorious dick after tonight.”

You nearly choke on your drink as you laugh, your own hand reaching out to deliver a swift smack onto his own bare ass, his skin smarting as he yelps with a chuckle, his palm soothing the burn on his cheek.

“Pervert,” you cackle, grabbing another piece of chicken as you saunter away from him, “but text Namjoon now please.”

His jaw drops when you wiggle your hips at him, another laugh leaving your lips when you see him take off after you, the both of you bounding back into your room for a round two. Busan was definitely going to be a fuck fest if Jungkook had anything to do with it.

[golbrocklovely]

remember me // colby brock (pt 2)

A/N: as i mentioned before in a different post, this took me FOREVER to write. i loved writing this story but something about it just made me drag it out for so long. nonetheless, i love this and i'm excited to see what you all think. please lmk what you thought about this. thank you to everyone that has supported me and sent me kind messages. yall are the best ! hope you enjoy :) also lmk if you want another part...

prompt: she's the only one that remembers colby, or so they both thought.

trigger warning: ANGST, heartbreak, AU mention, friendship problems, cursing, happy-ish ending (but not the end...?), kissing

word count: 5526

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Colby was relieved that the waitress, the only one that remembered him, decided to help. The moment she agreed, Colby gave her his number and left. She texted him not too long after, and he realized for a moment she never said her name. He planned to ask her the next day when they decided to meet up at his place.

It was weird to come back to his apartment, knowing that down the hall his best friend, his brother, lived there and didn't know who he was. Usually when Colby felt lonely, he would walk down the hall to Sam's and hang out for a bit. It was always nice to talk to Sam about anything and everything.

But now... he couldn't do that.

Colby tried to sleep during the night, but barely any rest came from it. He tossed and turned, hoping that when he would wake up, this would all just be some weird-ass nightmare.

When his cell phone rang the next morning at 9:34 A.M., it was an unfamiliar ringtone. As he rubbed his eyes awake, he glanced at the caller, the name 'Waitress' appearing on his screen.

I guess this wasn’t a dream after all.

"Yeah?" Colby groaned, squinting his eyes at the sunlight.

Her voice came through cheery, the tone too loud in Colby’s ears. “Let me up to your apartment. I'm here.”

He cleared his throat. “This early?”

“I figured you would want your normal life back as soon as possible, yeah?” She sassed.

He rolled his eyes. “Alright, give me a second. I'll come down and get you.”

Colby stumbled out of bed, running his fingers through his hair as he threw on a random shirt and jeans, slowly trudging down to the lobby of his apartment. She sat on a couch, tapping her foot against the carpeted floors. Her eyes were staring out the door, almost like she was looking at someone. When she heard Colby’s footsteps, her gaze pulled away from outside.

“Did I wake you?” She frowned, grabbing her bag next to her and standing up.

He shook his head. “You can't really be woken up if you barely slept.”

“I'm sorry to hear that.” She lightly bit her lip, following Colby to the elevator.

He shrugged tiredly. “It's okay.”

They both slowly got into the elevator, climbing up to Colby's floor. The loud 'ding' of the elevator broke their silence moments later. They walked to Colby's apartment, and he unlocked his door quickly.

She whistled quietly. “Woah, nice place.”

A half smile spread across Colby’s face. “Thanks.”

“No offense, but how do you pay for this place if you're not a social media person?” She questioned, stepping into the kitchen.

He raised an eyebrow. “That's... a good question. From what my mom told me over the phone yesterday, I worked all throughout high school and college, so maybe it's from that?”

“You only worked at Dairy Queen while you were in high school. You must have gotten a better job in college because there is no way you can afford this place.” She disagreed.

Colby smirked. “How'd you know I worked at Dairy Queen?”

“Well, for starters, my friend told me. And also, I did some research about you. But I'll get to that in a second.” She continued, her voice falling to a serious tone, “So... would you like to hear my theories?”

“Theories?” He puzzled.

“As to why everyone forgot about you.” The waitress explained.

Colby sat down on his barstool, exhaling. “Let's hear it.”

“Okay. For argument sakes, you're gonna have to just go with me on this. Because otherwise, I literally have no way to help you.” She started, already pacing slightly.

He cautioned. “...okay?”

“So last night, I tried to think of a reason why everyone would collectively forget about you. And the only conclusion I could come up with is that you're in an alternative universe.” She hypothesized.

Colby’s eyes widened, bugging out of his head. “A what?”

“An alternative universe. Basically, everything is pretty much the same in your life, except a few minor details,” she revealed. “That’s why you still live in this apartment, but you didn’t get here the same way you did in your other life, your real life.”

“This... it's way too early for this.” He grumbled, astonished.

She sighed, her hands resting on her hips. “The only other option is that this is a very long-winded prank that your friends are still pulling on you. Have you tried talking to any of your other friends besides Sam?”

“No, everyone else’s number is gone in my phone, which I can only assume means they don’t know me either.” Colby retorted. Then he took a deep breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “But, this doesn't make sense. How did I end up here if this isn't my life?”

“I’m not sure how you got here, but I think you’re here for a specific reason. I think you’re here to right a wrong that this Colby Brock did. I’m just… not entirely sure what that wrong might be.” She answered, unsure.

He huffed. “Okay… what am I supposed to do then? Stay here and hope we figure that out soon? I don't even know who I am in this universe.”

“And that's where my research comes into play.” She pulled a laptop from her bag quickly, placing it down on the counter and opening it. She scrolled through her browsers until she came across Colby's Facebook, which surprisingly looked active for someone who hadn't been personally on it in years.

I use Facebook? Gross.

“First, I started by seeing if you and Sam were friends on here, but that didn’t amount to much since Sam doesn’t have a Facebook. However, what I found out is that you and Sam did live in the same town, go to the same high school, and played in the same marching band. Sam talked about his early years before he was ‘famous’ in one of the first videos he posted, and I crossed referenced that with your profile and it all matches up.” She informed.

“That's strange,” he mumbled. “What did we do after high school?”

She stated. “You went off to college and majored in Business Management with a minor in Philosophy. You graduated early too.”

Me? Graduating early? I couldn’t even get through math without Sam’s help.

“What did Sam do?” He asked.

The waitress scrolled to another tab, opening it to show a search of Sam. “Well, a very quick Google search shows that he actually went to the same college as you but dropped out once his Vine career started to pick up. Then he went on to Musical.ly when Vine died. He moved out to LA in 2017 and started a YouTube channel after he met Katrina, and slowly met all of his- your, friends that way. He got a bump of followers once he started dating Kat because of her following.”

Colby’s mouth gaped at her words. “That can't be true. He would have never wanted that. I mean, I had to convince him that we should be on social media so that we could spread our message. Plus, he hates those channels that use their relationship for views.”

“Not this version of Sam. Or at least, it doesn't seem like it.” She commented.

He covered his face, groaning into his hands. “What the hell am I here for? What wrong have I done in this universe?”

Her voice low, she replied. “I think it might have to do with Sam.”

“But... he doesn't know me.” He dissented, sitting up.

She nodded. “I thought so too. However, after scrolling through all of your public photos, I found this.”

Colby squinted at the screen, an old photo of him and Sam stared back. They looked super young, probably sophomores in high school. They were both smiling, laughing at something. He vaguely remembered this day.

“So, we did know each other.” He bit his lip softly.

She hummed. “Yeah. And weirdly, it’s the only photo of the two of you on your profile. But it’s not the only strange thing.”

Scrolling to a different tab, she pulled up an old tweet of Sam’s. It read ‘Never thought you would be the one to hurt me. But I guess everyone can be surprising.’

Colby noted the date. “That was back in high school.”

“Yeah, and there’s a bunch like them. He talks about being betrayed and someone hurting him deeply. He never mentions, of course. But his tweets line up with some that you were tweeting at the same time.” She confessed.

The waitress clicked on a different tab and another tweet showed up, one from Colby’s account. He gazed at it, reading the words ‘If you hate me… imagine how I feel about myself.’

Colby’s face dropped. “Wait, what?”

“You don’t tweet that often, but when you do, you talk about righting wrongs and fixing things you fucked up.” She added, “You also hate on yourself a lot.”

He doubted, crossing his arms. “You think they’re connected?”

“I do. I think in this universe you fucked up somehow and hurt Sam. And I think you are here now to fix what the other you did.” She explained.

He ranted. “This is all so fucked! When I saw him yesterday, he acted like he didn’t even know me. How am I supposed to even go about this? What, do I just go down the hall and apologize for something I don’t even remember doing?”

“No. Sam's not in his apartment anyway. I saw him leave while I was waiting for you.” She mentioned nonchalantly.

He grunted. “Great, he could be anywhere in LA right now.”

“I know exactly where he is.” She smirked.

“What? How?” He questioned.

The waitress divulged. “This version of Sam has a favorite restaurant he goes to all the time. A lot of his fans know about it, thus one look through any of his fan accounts and you'll see it. It's called ‘Paradise’.”

“Sounds like a strip club.” Colby deadpanned.

She pouted. “It's not. But he goes there all the time, and I got us a table there last minute.”

“What exactly are we gonna do when we get there?” He crossed his arms.

“I was planning on going up to his table and talking to him, maybe asking him about you, see how he reacts.” She described.

Colby furrowed his brow, confused. “And what about me?”

She slid her laptop into her bag, zipping it up hastily. “Well… I didn’t really think that far ahead. But hopefully, whatever you did is forgivable, and we can just fix it right there.”

He murmured. “That's a lot to hope for.”

“It's better than sitting here and wasting daylight.” She grabbed her stuff and headed for the door. Colby followed suit, grabbing his keys.

He spoke as he locked his door. “What if this doesn’t work?”

She turned back to him. “It will. It has to.”

~~~

Paradise was a themed restaurant, which Colby thought was strange because his Sam never really liked those types of restaurants. The theme was nice, however, tropical and Hawaiian. It felt like something he, Sam, and a few friends would have gone to after a fun, drunk night.

As Colby and the waitress were escorted to their table, they both kept an eye out for Sam, glancing around nervously for the blonde boy.

“I think the worst thing about this universe version of me is how messy my car is,” Colby joked. “It’s like I live out of it.”

She shrugged, smiling. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“You should see my real car. My honey wagon is spotless.” He expressed, waving his hand.

“Honey wagon?” She queried.

“Long story,” he chuckled. Then abruptly, he gasped. “Holy shit, I just realized I never got your name.”

She cocked her head. “What? I never told you?”

He blinked. “No.”

She started. “It's-”

“Hi, I'm Tony, I'll be your server for today. Can I get you something to drink to start you guys off?” Tony greeted, cutting her off.

“Yeah, sure. A water for me.” She blurted out.

Colby added. “Coke, please.”

Tony smiled. “Okay, coming right up.”

Once Tony left, the waitress started scoping out for Sam again, her eyes widening once she saw him.

Her body stiffened, turning back to Colby. “He's over there, three tables down to your left.”

Colby gazed over his shoulder at his friend. Sam looked lost in thought, staring at his phone as he ate his food.

“Why is he alone?” He muttered.

“From some of the blogs I read, he likes to go out and eat by himself. Also, apparently, him and Kat are on the rocks.” She admitted.

“They love each other so much, it's kinda gross to be around them sometimes,” He quipped, but shook his head. “So to hear that...”

“I'm gonna head over.” She announced quickly.

Before he could speak, she left the booth. Colby watched her walk over to Sam, listening closely to their conversation as he ducked his head down.

“Hey... sorry to bother you, but are you Sam Golbach?” She asked sweetly.

“Yeah I am. Did you want something?” Sam stared blankly at her.

“Um, yeah?” She almost scoffed at his tone. “I’m a huge fan and I know this might be a weird question, but do you know someone named Colby Brock?”

Sam’s face remained stoic, but his eyes intensified. “No, I've never heard of that name before.”

“Are you sure, because I'm pretty certain that you and him are best friends.” She insisted.

He raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

Colby watched nervously as she pulled out her phone and showed Sam the photo. Sam scrunched up his face, his eyes scanning the image. “Yeah, no. Still don’t know who he is. What was his name again?”

“Colby Brock.” She stated.

“...Sorry. I’ve never heard a name like that before.” He mumbled, almost inaudibly. “Sounds stupid anyway.”

She cocked her head. “Wait, what?”

Colby clenched his fist, unable to hear this conversation any longer. He needed to come face-to-face with Sam. He slid out of his seat, walking hastily over to Sam and the waitress. Sam’s eyes narrowed as he gaped at Colby.

“Sam…” Colby started.

Sam growled. “Are you fucking serious, Colby? Did you really have to get one of my fans involved?”

“What?” Colby puzzled.

Sam jumped out of his seat, grabbing Colby’s arm and pulling him out of the restaurant. The waitress followed behind them, confused just as much as Colby. Sam’s feet stopped behind the back door of the building, turning to Colby without warning.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Sam barked.

Colby stepped back, surprised by Sam’s anger. “...Uh, I don’t know what you mean by that.”

Sam scoffed. “Why the fuck are you here? After all this time?”

“So, you do remember me.” Colby remarked.

“Yeah, I do. When you showed up at my place yesterday, it took me a minute to realize it was you, since you decided to dress up like a Hot Topic employee, but yeah, I knew it was you. Are you really gonna pretend in front of her that we don’t know each other?” Sam teared his eyes away from Colby’s, staring at the waitress suddenly. “Let me guess, he hasn’t told you the whole story, right?”

“I guess not.” She shrugged uncomfortably.

Sam chuckled darkly. “Of course not. If he told the whole story, he would have to admit he was an asshole, and God knows he’s not gonna do that.”

“What are you talking about?” Colby panted.

“Do you not remember? Well, I’ll give you a refresher. You and I became friends freshman year of high school. You were my best friend and I was yours. I trusted you. I trusted you with a lot of shit that I’ve never told anyone. Senior year of high school, right before we were about to graduate, right as we were starting a social media career, suddenly you don’t want anything to do with me; which would have been bad enough, but then I go and find out you and my girlfriend were hooking up behind my back,” Sam snapped, catching his breath for a moment. “So yeah, I remember you, Colby.”

Colby’s mouth fell open, his breathing speeding up.

None of this sounds like me. I would never hurt Sam like that.

“And now, you have the fucking audacity to show up when everything in my life is going great and I’m succeeding. I have fans, friends, and a girlfriend that all love and care about me, and you’re here trying to what? Stir up drama? Get some clout from me?” He demanded.

“If your friends and girlfriend love you, why are you eating all alone?” The waitress jeered.

Sam glared at her, biting his tongue. “And you made one of my fans hate me. Dope, dude.”

“Sam, look; I’m sorry for what I did. But that was years ago. I’m not who I was back then.” Colby choked out.

“I don’t care. I don’t want you in my life. Do you not understand what you did to me?” Sam persisted.

“I know I was an asshole, and I apologize for ever hurting you like that. But I miss you, and I want to work things out. Let me prove to you that I’m better.” He trembled, getting closer to Sam.

Sam backed up, blocking Colby. “No. No! You don’t get to miss me. You don’t get to miss a relationship you fucked up. It took me years to trust again. Hell, I’m still going through it. You don’t get to decide whether or not you’re in my life. Not anymore.”

“Sam… please.” Colby whimpered.

“Don’t show up at my place again. Don’t talk to my fans about me. Don’t act like you care about me. Because I’m done,” Sam stared into Colby’s eyes before going back into the restaurant. “I don’t care about you. Fuck off forever and leave me alone.”

Sam’s words punched Colby hard, taking the breath out of him instantly. He caught himself against the wall, his legs turning to gelatin under his weight.

He stuttered. “I… gotta leave. I-I have to…”

“Colby, relax. It’s gonna be okay.” She grabbed his hand.

He shook off her embrace. “What? No it’s not! Did you not hear what he said? Why would he want to be friends with a piece of shit like me?!”

“You were eighteen when this all happened. Give yourself a break.” She argued.

“No. I’m fucking terrible. This version of me is terrible. Of course he doesn’t want to be friends with me! I don’t even want to be me.” His voice quivered with anger, his body racing away from her.

She furrowed her brows, trying to keep up with him. “Where are you going?”

“I just need to leave. I can’t be here right now!” He grunted, his pace picking up.

She called after him, but Colby didn’t care. His heart slammed against his chest over and over again. Tears weld up into his eyes, blurring his vision as he began to run. He wanted to keep running until his legs gave out, until he couldn’t remember all the words Sam had said to him.

It dawned to Colby how much worse this universe was.

He wasn’t just stuck in a universe where Sam didn’t know him.

He was stuck in a universe where Sam didn’t want to know him.

In a universe where Sam didn’t love him.

And he had no way of escaping.

Colby must have blacked out while he ran, somehow maintaining to stay upright, because once his thoughts started to subside, and his body basically gave out under him, he noticed he was in a part of LA he had never been before. Some random neighborhood that was unfamiliar.

He shoved his body up against a metal telephone pole, sliding down to the ground. He tried catching his breath, gulping back breaths as he forced down the nausea overwhelming his senses. He wiped his face with his sleeve, feeling more tears rush down his cheeks.

His throat and chest burned with each sharp inhale. He whimpered into his hands, covering his face from the slowly retreating sun.

He slid his phone out of his pocket once he caught his breath, calling the only number he knew.

“Hey honey. What’s up?” His mom’s voice rang back sweetly.

Colby’s voice was monotone, exhausted. “You know who Sam is, don’t you?”

The line went quiet for a moment, all Colby could hear was her light breath.

“You told me not to talk about him. After you two stopped being friends, you said you never wanted to hear his name again.” She exhaled deeply, “I was taken aback when you asked about him yesterday.”

“He’s out here… in LA.” He responded.

She gasped lightly. “Did you run into him?”

He laughed bitterly. “You could say that.”

“Oh, Colby. I’m so sorry.” His mother consoled.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about, mama. I just…” Colby trailed off, unable to explain.

“Why don’t you come home this weekend?” She offered. “I miss you, you know.”

“I would love to. But…” His chest heaved as hot tears drifted down his cheeks. “That’s not my home.”

“Nonsense. You will always have a home here.” She assured him, her voice almost trembling.

He wiped a fallen tear, a broken smile coming to his face. “That’s good to know. I love you.”

She hummed. “I love you too, baby. Call me again soon.”

“I will. Bye.” He uttered breathlessly.

The sky was getting darker and darker, and Colby remained against the phone pole. He didn’t know how much time had passed, but suddenly his phone vibrated, a new message from ‘Waitress’ asking where he was. He sent his location, and she arrived twenty minutes later in his car. He stood up, stumbling to his passenger door. His legs were weak from the sprinting he had just done. As he got in, the cool AC blasted the sweat and tears off his face.

They didn’t speak, a quiet radio station playing in the background the only sound. She drove through the hills of LA, eventually hitting a peak. She parked the car as it overlooked LA, the lights looking like stars on the horizon.

She got out a minute later, walking over to the hood and leaning against it. He could see something in her hand but didn’t recognize it. Colby sat in the car by himself, not able to physically move his body from how exhausted he felt. Eventually, he achingly stepped out of the car, sitting next to her on the hood.

“I’m fucked.” Colby breathed.

She started. “I don’t think-”

“Please don’t try to make me feel better. I know you mean well, but I am fucked,” he rebutted, his voice dark. “I’m stuck here, in this universe, where Sam hates me. And as if that weren’t bad enough, I did terrible things, things I know I would never do to him. How the fuck am I supposed to apologize for those mistakes? I wouldn’t take him back if the roles were reversed.”

“Read this.” The waitress stated, handing him a journal.

He glanced down at the leather-bound book, slightly faded from years of writing. He unclicked the lock and opened it, looking down at the pages. It was his, a journal full of writings he had done.

“Where did you get this?” He inquired.

“You were right about your car being messy. But you’d be surprised what you fine if you just look.” She teased.

Colby read over the words, the first entry catching his eye. It was dated a year after him and Sam had graduated high school.

Sam is succeeding without me. I knew he would. He was always so smart when it came to business decisions. He just hit 10k followers on Vine. That’s crazy!

“What the hell is this?” Colby questioned.

She answered quickly. “This whole journal was you keeping up with Sam without him knowing. This version of you always paid attention to what he was doing, even if you guys were no longer friends.”

“I’m obsessed with Sam? That’s great.” He deadpanned.

“You’re not obsessed with Sam. Read this entry.” She skipped a handful of pages, finally stopping on one and showing it to him.

I hate myself everyday for the hurt I caused Sam. I can’t believe what an idiot I was back when I was 18. We could have gone so far together… but I had to go and fuck it up.

He scowled. “Am I supposed to be sad for myself?”

“Keep reading.” She pushed.

The night I chose to never speak to Sam again, I knew I made the wrong decision. But I had to. Sam was ready to go on and do bigger and better things. I was just gonna hold him back. I was terrified of failing, not only myself, but him. He deserves success. That’s why I had to ignore him. I have never been as smart as him. I would have ruined our chances of doing something great. And I have been proven right by how far he has gone without me.

“You stopped being his friend because you were scared, not because you didn’t care anymore.” She repeated.

He slid off the car, scoffing. “So what if I was scared to fail? Sam didn’t deserve the hurt I caused just because of that. And what about me cheating with his girlfriend?”

She jumped off the car, striding up to Colby. She grabbed the journal from his hand. “You didn’t cheat, look.”

She pointed at the bottom of the page, his eyes following her finger.

“Me and Lexi were never together! I hate her for telling him that. One night, they had a really big fight and she came over to my house to ask what she should do. I told her to break up with him if she really didn’t care anymore. And then she tried to hit on me. I told her off and threatened to tell Sam, but she got to him first. She must have told him her and I were together.” The waitress read aloud.

“Wait, if I never hooked up with his girlfriend, why wouldn’t I tell him that?” Colby hissed.

“I think at that point, you wanted the friendship to be over, and I think this solidified it.” The waitress responded.

“All this time I could have been friends with Sam, but I ruined it because I was scared? What a fucking idiot.” He spat.

“You weren’t an idiot,” She interjected. “You just disliked yourself so much you didn’t think you deserved happiness. At least now you know that this version of you isn’t as terrible as you thought.”

“Even with that being the case, Sam’s never gonna accept my apology. Why should he?” Colby lamented, “I let him down the worst ways. I broke his trust and loyalty.”

She shook her head, stepping towards him. “Give him some time. You might be surprised."

Before Colby could speak, his phone rang. He took his phone out of his pocket and looked at the number. It looked familiar, but he couldn’t place it.

“Hello?” He answered.

“Did you really mean it when you said you were sorry?” Sam spoke, his tone hesitant, but dry.

His breath hitched at the sound of Sam’s voice. “Of course. I never meant to hurt you, Sam.”

Sam paused for a moment, before breathing out. “I’m giving you one more chance. Tomorrow. Come by my place. You apparently know where I live.”

“Yeah,” Colby laughed awkwardly. “I’ll come by. Thank you… Sam.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I’ll see you later.” Sam stated, hanging up.

Once the call ended, Colby’s eyes stared down at his phone widely. He almost couldn’t believe that happened.

He inhaled sharply. “Sam just called me. He wants to meet me tomorrow.”

“That’s great.” Her voice just above a whisper.

“He wants to hear me out… he wants to give me another chance.” His face dropped with confusion. “How did he get my number?”

It hit Colby like a brick as he gazed up at the waitress, who bit her lip hiding her smile. “You…?”

“You weren’t the first person I showed the journal to,” she explained. “When you ran off, I was gonna go after you. As I got in your car, I saw this journal sticking out from under your seat. I read through it and… I knew I had to show Sam. I went back in and talked to him for an hour, showing him how much you were actually sorry. How much you had beat yourself up over hurting him. And then I gave him your number. I wasn’t sure if he was gonna call but-”

“Oh my God, you’re amazing!” Colby ran up to her, grabbing her by the waist and spinning her around. She gripped his shoulders tightly as they spun, laughing loudly into his ear. As her feet touched the ground, he stared into her eyes, his smile the brightest she had ever seen it. His hands glided up her body to her face, cupping her cheeks quickly. He smashed his lips against hers, his heart pounding as he did. Her hands lowered to his chest, her grasp on his shirt tightened as she felt herself lose her footing and back up into the car.

As they stumbled, he realized what he was doing, pulling away quickly. “Shit… I’m sorry. I-I shouldn’t have-”

“No, it’s okay,” She giggled. “I’m just… surprised.”

He exhaled, letting his arms fall away from her body. “Me too.”

They leaned against the car, keeping a slight distance from each other. A light blush rested on both their faces; however, it was hard to see with the setting sun, something they were both grateful for.

The waitress sighed, breaking the moment of silence. “I think I know why this happened. Why I was the only one who remembered you…”

He raised an eyebrow, slightly side-eyeing her. “Really?”

“I lied to you when we first met. I wanted to seem a bit cooler than I am, but I don’t think I can hide that anymore.” She began, nervously.

Colby’s face relaxed a little, surprised at her words. “Okay.”

“My friend didn’t introduce me to you guys… I introduced her… to you.” She confessed.

A soft grin came to his face. “I had a feeling.”

She rolled her eyes. “No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did! I totally did,” he snickered. “Not every fan knows I worked at Dairy Queen. And… no average fan would have helped me get Sam back the way you did.”

“I think there’s a reason for all of this. I think in your universe, your life… you don’t know me.” Her voice dropped suddenly, making Colby turn to her.

“That’s true, I don’t.” He nodded.

Her eyes met his, a sad glint reflecting in the moonlight. “But I think the reason for that is because… you’re not supposed to.”

“What do you mean?” He replied, his face twisting in confusion.

“I think you and I are only supposed to have met here, in this universe. But not in yours.” She glared up at the sky, “Maybe in some weird way, I’m your guardian or guide or something.”

Colby’s thoughts raced. “So, what you’re saying is-“

“This might be the last time you’ll ever see me. You did what you had to do. You got Sam and you to talk again.” Her voice cracked as she held back tears, “You can go home.”

He grabbed her hands, holding them close to his body. “But… I don’t want to leave if it means I don’t know you.”

A hitched breath fell from her lips, a smile appearing from his words. “If we’re meant to be, we’ll see each other again.”

“That’s not fair.” He shook his head, a deep frown settling on his face.

“I know, but it’s how it has to be.” She whispered.

He rested his forehead against her, breathing deeply. “Can I… get one more kiss?”

She bit her lip softly. “I thought you’d never ask.”

They leaned in, his breath fanning across her lips for a split second before he pulled away.

“Wait…” He shuddered. “I never got your name.”

A soft smile came to her lips. “I’ll tell you after.”

His arms wrapped around her, pressing her body into his as their lips collided. He held onto her for dear life, terrified that the moment he pulled away, she would be gone.

He could feel things around him slow down, almost melting away, but he couldn’t tell if it was from the beauty of their kiss making him dizzy. A whirling silence overcame his senses. A burning sensation sliced through his abdomen; his breath ripped from his lungs.

A heavy darkness overtook his vision and for the briefest of moments, he felt absolutely nothing.

Except her lips.

<< |

[yoongi-sugaglider]

Daegu Quarantine

Jungkook x reader

Gang/ zombie apocalypse au

Warnings:

Gore, violence, blood, gun shot wounds, zombies, mention of drugs and drug dealing, weapons discharge in self defense, main character death, zombies, course language, zombies, drinking, did I mention zombies?

Summary:

They were the top of their game, known throughout the city as the smartest and most dangerous crew to ever hit the Daegu streets. But what’s going to happen when this group of young men encounter something right out of a horror film?

Word count: 2588

Part 14===Part 15===Part 16

The sound of screaming voices awoke me the next morning to the sight of an empty room. The dull aching in my chest and leg only grew the more my mind woke up.

The screaming escalated, followed by a series of crashes and thumps from downstairs. I sighed, shifting to the side and almost having to roll myself into a sitting position. It wasn’t unusual to wake up to the sound of yelling, but from the way things seemed to be, this one might just actually be serious.

Throwing my legs over the edge of the bed I inhaled deeply, steeling myself to stand when the bedroom door swung open and a wild looking Jeanette and Rose bolted inside before slamming the door shut behind them.

Rose slid down the back of the door, arms folded over her knees as she leaned her head against it and closed her eyes. Jeanette inhaled, exhaling the breath slowly through her nose in a quiet whistle and humming to herself as she shook her head at the closed door.

“What’s going on out there?” I asked, wincing slightly when the two women jumped and whipped their heads around to stare at me with terrified gazes.

“Shit! You’re awake!”

“Oh thank god you’re awake!”

Their voices swirled and merged into one single unit of confusing emotions and I couldn’t help but snicker at their faces. “Okay, conflicting moment aside there. I’ll repeat, what in the ever loving fuck are those idiots up to downstairs?”

The two began talking at once, each speaking animatedly and raising their voices in an attempt to talk over the other. I raised a finger, instantly silencing them to sheepish glances between each other.

“I am...one person. With two ears, and half a brain coming down off of some pretty intense pain killers. Please...one at a time.”

Jeanette glanced at Rose who shrugged in defeat before dropping her chin to rest on her folded arms. The younger woman gave her a nod of deference to speak on the subject.

“Well...okay so like this morning when I got up everything was pretty quiet so I thought I’d go to the kitchen to start breakfast. Hobi was there balancing dishes from the dishwasher in one hand while trying to open a cabinet with the other. Your uh..Jungkook was sitting at the table kinda staring off into space when Tae came in and scared Hoseok. He dropped all the dishes and that’s what set Jungkook off. Jimin jumped in and they started screaming at Tae about some mission and well... They’ve been fighting ever since and it’s only getting worse.”

I let out a long suffering sigh, scrubbing the heels of my hands into my eyes before looking up at them. “Help me up.” 

“But…” Jeanette paused as I shook my head.

“I’ve got to get down there. Those idiots are going to kill each other and I’m the only one that can stop them.”

Rose groaned, banging her head against the door and fisting her hands through her hair. “This is all my fault…”

“That’s not true.” I grunted, shifting my weight to the edge of the bed. 

“But if I hadn’t been there you wouldn’t have gotten hurt and they wouldn’t be fighting over it.” She groaned again, head hanging as teardrops fell to the floor.

“Tae and Jimin have been at odds for a very long time. And Jungkook...well… Kookie can be the absolute sweetest and smartest man you could meet. But when it comes right down to it the man is an actual blonde. I joke with him all the time they dipped his brain in bleach before they handed him off to his mother.”

Rose snorted, glancing up to me as she wiped her tears away. “Isn’t that all men though?”

The three of us giggled, sharing a moment of joined exasperation before sobering up as another crash echoed through the house.

“Alright, for real. Jin’s gonna cry if any more of his kitchen gets destroyed. Come on, help me up. I’ve got to end this.”

***

True to form the dumb asses were still fighting by the time we’d made it down the stairs. 

Jimin was off to the side, standing by the fridge as he screamed obscenities at Taehyung. Jungkook and Tae were on the floor, pulling at each other’s hair with their legs wrapped around one another to keep the other from escaping.

A massive bruise had bloomed just beneath Tae’s right eye and Jungkook’s lip was split and seeping blood all over.

“It’s all your fault Tae! Every time she’s gotten hurt it’s always you to blame!” Jimin screamed. He moved as if to launch himself into the scuffle but Hobi, who’d been watching from the stove reached over to stop him, effectively wrapping him in a bear hug and pinning his arms to his sides.

“Oh no you don’t Doc. We don’t need you getting hurt.”

“Let me go! Let me at him! This has been a long time coming Hobi!” The boy was basically foaming at the mouth, tears streaming down his cheeks as he struggled in the dancer’s hold.

I couldn’t help but sigh, knowing the only way to stop this was if I intervened. Glancing between Jeanette and Rose I shrugged them off, taking a step forward on my own and muttering under my breath. This was going to suck.

“Boys! Please! Stop this!” I yelled, internally cringing as my weight landed on my injured leg.

The offending limb buckled under the pressure, causing me to yelp out in pain as I staggered forward a half a step before falling to the ground. It was worth it though.

All activity in the room ceased. For a moment it was quiet as I lay there wheezing and whimpering in pain. And then chaos ensued.

From my vantage point I could see the boys scrambling to my side, Jungkook and Tae disentangling themselves from each other as Jimin and Hobi pushed each other out of the way in an attempt to reach my side. Jin, Namjoon, and Yoongi walked into the room just in time to see Rose and Jeanette reach me first, shooing the boys out of the way as they helped me into a sitting position.

“Fuck sake. What are you all in here tearing the place up for?” Namjoon growled, giving the younger boys the stink eye as Jimin crouched at my side to check my bandages.

“They’ve been arguing for the last hour, how have you all not noticed till now?” Hobi grumped as he stood to his feet and dusted off his jeans.

“Because unlike you idiots we’ve actually been doing something.” Seokjin frowned, leaning his broad shoulders against the doorframe as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“And what’s got the three of you so wrapped up in each other that you couldn’t notice the idiot brigade trying to off one another?” I huffed, pushing away the pain of my leg.

“Securing the satellite links, setting up better firewall protections for the security cameras.” Namjoon replied.

“Reinforcing the front gate, making sure our rear’s covered in terms of fortifications.” Yoongi added in.

“Adding more cameras to the sides of the house just to make sure we have every inch of the lawn and side yards covered.” Seokjin frowned, glancing at the three younger men. “I can’t believe the three of you are grown ass men. And to think one of you is in charge of giving me orders.”

He shook his head, eyes darting back and forth between them before landing on the mess that was his kitchen. It was almost comical the way his gaze went from mildly frustrated to all of a sudden full blown horror and betrayal.

“M...my… MY KITCHEN!!!”

The series of events that followed may have been comical but it certainly managed to squash the feud and rising tensions that’d settled over my boys in the time I’d been unconscious.

Jeanette and Rose managed to help me off the ground, settling me into a chair at the center island as Seokjin screamed and ranted about how ungrateful the younger men were while demanding they cleaned up their mess.

Jungkook and Taehyung actually managed to look ashamed and remorseful as they swept up the broken plates together and wiped down the counters before settling into mopping the entirety of the area. They stayed silent, barely glancing at each other or speaking until Jin tore into Namjoon who’d resigned himself to ‘helping’ cook breakfast before getting scolded about holding the knife upside down as he attempted to chop an onion.

“Ya! How can someone have such a high IQ and STILL not know the meaning for sharp side down?? All those brains and muscles and no common sense!” Jin’s face shone bright red as he screamed, barely stopping for breath as he smacked poor Namjoon over the head with a wooden spoon.

Taehyung snorted, Jungkook giggled, and after a shared look between them they burst out laughing, leaning against each other for support as they lost their minds over the sheer visual of the genius level man getting scolded by his elder.

Jimin all the while did his best to address my leg, crouching beneath the ledge of the island as he checked the skin above and  beneath the bandage.

“It hasn’t bled through, so the stitches are holding. But I really wish you would stay off it as much as possible.” He frowned up at me, tiny hands wrapped gently around my ankle as he balanced on his heels.

“I’m sorry Doc. It’s just, you all were so worked up over nothing and I just had to do something to get it to stop.” I shrugged, not sure if it was a valid enough reason for almost dislocating anything that was still left to injure.

“I mean, you could have just fired in the air or something. Thrown something at them, anything but literally throwing yourself to the ground and risking actually breaking something.”

“I could have sure. But that would have meant risking the ceiling and Yoongi’s room. Not about that life if I’m being honest.” I grinned at the doctor, earning myself an exasperated glare and a pat to my uninjured leg.

“Really, and here I thought you were the rational one in this group of misfits.” Jimin stood, brushing his pants off and then walking around the island to wash his hands at the sink.

“I may be irrational at times but at least I have the ability to forgive people.” My blunt words hit home. I could tell. He’d paused all motion, staring down at his hands as the water ran over his fingers.

I reached across, turning the sink off and folding my hands before me on the cool countertop. Patiently I waited, watching the emotions flit across his face faster than his expert fingers stitching up a wound.

“Jimin...we’re going to have to talk about this eventually.” I spoke calmly, knowing that anything could set him off if I misspoke.

“I know it’s just…”

“We were all attached. The first truly good thing to come out of all our awful work.” Pausing I focused for a moment on the tiny scrapes and scratches I’d gotten from being out in the thick of it.

“We got comfortable. All of us did. And sloppy. But Taehyung can’t be blamed for that. We were all at fault. But more importantly those bastards that kidnapped me and tried to hold me hostage were at fault.” I turned slightly, watching as the others went about their business.

“When it came down to it he had to make a choice. Yes we’re always family first but everything was on the line. Literally everything Jimin.” I turned back to him, watching the frown deepen his brow and tug that sweet face of his into a scowl. “If it weren’t for Taehyun,g half our crew would be dead or in jail. Including Namjoon and Jungkook. Do you think I’d have ever let him live it down if he had chosen any other way?”

He shook his head, tossing the towel in his hands on the counter. “No… No you’re right. You wouldn’t have. You’d have torn Daegu up, burned the whole city down.” He chuckled and I joined him, my shoulders shaking with the snickers joined between us.

“You’re not wrong. But considering the circumstances I didn’t need to do a thing. The city’s already burning.” The mood chilled at those words and we sat together in silence, watching the others fuss and fight over cooking and who was on dish duty.

“This could be the end days huh?”

Turning back to him I sighed, though the motion left me wincing at the pain in my chest. “That may be so… and if it is, if everything is ending and the world is burning...shouldn’t you go make up with your best friend?”

“...Yeah….yeah you’re right.” his eyes crinkled as he smiled at me, reaching across and giving my hand a squeeze. “Thank you for talking some sense into me.”

“Jungkook may be the brawn but we all know I’m the brains of the operation here.” I snorted at my own words. My heart warmed as I watched Jimin walk over to Tae and begin whispering softly to him.

Both men, grown as they were, became teary eyed, suddenly lunging forward and hugging each other as close as two men could.

“Damn, look at you.” Rose plopped into the chair beside me, nudging my arm as she grinned at the two now openly sobbing gangsters. “You get paid to be the family shrink?”

“Nah, they couldn’t afford me if I were to actually charge them.”

Jeanette ambled over, hand subconsciously rubbing her belly as she leaned into Rose who wrapped a gentle arm around her waist. “I don’t think even the richest man could afford your services. You really out here keeping these boys from killing each other and still surviving in this world? Absolute boss if you ask me.”

It felt good to laugh with them as we sat there. It’d been a good long while since I’d had female friends. Not that I didn’t love my boys but there was something about being around someone who got my mind without me having to say something that just felt so right.

Things settled down as we all gathered around to our meal, the chatter subdued and amiable as food was passed around in abundance. It would last us a while sure, but the idea that at some point it might run out had us all appreciating it that much more.

As I munched on my toast my mind wandered, but my thoughts were abruptly by Taehyung and Rose cheering as they jumped out of their chairs and began laughing and hugging each other.

“YAH! What the hell!” Jin demanded as he scrambled to wipe the juice he’d spilled on himself at the shock of their cheering.

“We did it!” Tae grinned, the biggest boxiest grin on his face as his ears blushed crimson from the kiss Rose had planted on his cheek.

“We managed to fix all of the security issues! Cams are on lock and all internal systems are now free of amature hour hack jobs!” Rose’s smile was infectious, cheering the whole table and causing the others to whoop and holler their appreciation for the two computer experts.

[divinewhimsy]

Ichor Pt 6 (DabixReader)

Thank you all so so so so much for you continued support and appreciation. I don’t have words to express how much it encourages me to keep writing. I love each and every one of your comments and likes and just slfjkdfkjasdlfjksfj You’re all perfect. No arguments.

Part 4: X

Part 5: X

Part 7: X

~~

Tag List: @velvet-kissesss @marydragneell @littleblackpheonix @holytacocactuscollector

~~~

TW: Blood, Swearing.

~~

 Do not think about the kiss. Do not think about the kiss. Do not think about the kiss. Do. Not. Think. About. The. Kiss.

 Too late. You fail to catch your gaze as it slips to Dabi’s lips- one smooth and one burnt but the memory of both against your own surfaces with the rising blush. It shouldn’t matter. You’d only done it to save him.

 “I haven’t been entirely… Honest with you.” you frown and force your gaze back down to your plate. “Something like this has happened before.”

 “Oh?” he barely sounds interested.

 “When I was younger my quirk showed up later than it normally does for others.” you bite the inside of your cheek to keep your courage. “I guess. Or I never really noticed it until my blood accidentally got ingested. But that’s not the point.”

 You take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Remembering her lifeless face- Aysu’s face- is a memory that sends tendrils of fear into your heart. Seeds of doubt, of worry and guilt to ravage your mind. Tear apart your soul.

 “She was boosted with her quirk and kept growing,” you continued, “I freaked out, she freaked out. I tried to pull it back when the thread appeared but when I did it just took… everything. Everything. Her blood, her air, her… life. I watched her turn into an empty husk.”

 Tears blink their way down your face but you can’t feel the sting. Numbness washes over you as you remember trying to stop taking from Aysu. Trying to stop her growing panic and her literal growing as she grew and grew in size. The defenseless way she shrunk into the fetal position, crumbling before your very eyes as the thread spooled back into your body. Like it had done its job. Like the bastardly thing was satisfied.

 “It was covered up.” you whisper. “Her parents were paid off and mine moved me here. I got one session of quirk counseling before they thought it was best I hid it from the world. To forget.. About her. About my so called fucking ‘gift’. I pushed it down for so long that… I actually ended up forgetting. But I was so, so angry at you. I could feel my quirk awaken like some giant beast opening its eyes for the first time in a long, long time. I wanted you to hurt. I wanted you to suffer. My quirk awoke and it was as if nothing had ever changed. It told me to tug the thread back to me. To rip it away.  To take it back.”

 Dabi doesn’t speak as you shudder. He’s silent as sin as you anxiously wring your hands. You can feel his gaze on you like wildfire, untamed blue fire devouring your body inch by inch. Laying your sins bare for him to ignite. For him to see.

 To understand.

 “I don’t think I can stop it when it starts.” you whimper, “I’m not that s-strong. I can’t fight it. But I can give again. I can pour it ba-ack. Return what it took.”

 More tears drop from your eyes, rivers ebbing their way onto your cheeks. It’s hardly recognizable when you can’t feel anything but guilt and the heat from your body turning up higher and higher.

 “I’m sorry.” you strain to speak, your voice a ghost of what it normally is. “I didn’t mean to drain you.”

 “Your quirk is dangerous left unchecked.” Dabi sighs and you flinch from the empty, uncaring words.

 Your eyes turn to his face as your vision blurs. Dabi doesn’t owe you anything after all you’ve done to him, let alone kind words. In fact, after draining him from the very fabric of existence, you owe him. But your sorrow disappears as you glance up to find the heat you felt rising wasn’t your body at all.

 It was his.

 Blue flame flickers in his eyes. Echoing his burning soul deep within as the flames dance on his skin. Between his fingers like a shooting star shimmering through the stratosphere. A comet hitting the orbit of his body as it bursts to life among his flesh.

 A breath you never knew you were holding releases as waves his hands through the air, spinning the flames into different shapes. They grow brighter and brighter until you see the tips of white start to overtake the blue. It’s almost unbearably hot before he douses the flames, the top of your ceiling only slightly scorched from the display.

 “I’d say we’re even, dollface.” Dabi says nonchalantly and you blink up at the scorch marks in disbelief.

 “When did…?” you ask and turn your wide eyes back to him.

 He chuckles softly and examines his hand thoughtfully.

 “When you brought me back.”

 The essence of his life fed back into him returned his quirk? Is that honestly how it was supposed to work?

 “Oh.” you say softly, your chest growing tight.

 This means he leaves, right? He no longer needs to be around you. He has his quirk back, like he demanded.

 There’s no reason for him to stay.

 “It’s a different power level than I’m used to.” Dabi says offhandedly. “It’ll take adjusting to but damn is it a rush.”

 His low whistle cuts through your numbness. Heart thumping unpleasantly fast in your chest while you can barely hold a breath, you shovel more food into your mouth. You don’t taste it. It’s as if you were eating air for all that you can taste. All you can feel is the growing strain in your heart as it flutters like a bird in a cage. What was this weird feeling? Why is it here now, of all the times to show?

 “Any threads?” Dabi asks and you swallow your mouthful of food before you check.

 It takes a bit but sure enough when you summon your quirk- even just a hair- the thread thrums to life. You can feel your own rapid heartbeat meet a steadier one, the thumping feeling in your body echoing in your skull. In your fingers and toes, your bones humming with delight at the sensation. Eyes widening, you look up at Dabi who raises a brow and squints at the empty space between the two of you.

 “Can you… can you see it?” you gasp as you realize what it is he’s staring at.

 “No.” he shakes his head and shrugs as his fingers glide across the table and sweep up some stray pieces of rice. “I see you’re a messy eater, though.”

 Your blood rises to your face in a flash of heat at getting carried away and your mess. Trying to cover your own embarrassment you clear your throat and stare back at your food.

 “Oh. I thought you might have- I don’t know? Seen it? Felt it?”

 “Doesn’t that only work on your end?” he rests his head on a fist and watches you.

 “N-normally.” you nod. “I just thought-.. Nevermind. It’s probably just over excitement.” you sigh and stand from your chair.

 “Thank you for letting me eat that.” you mumble and carry your empty plate to the sink.

 You’ll do the dishes tomorrow. For now you need to be alone. Locked in your room and away from Dabi.

 Away from the world.

 “Goodnight.” you call from over your shoulder as you walk down the hall.

 The scrape of a chair across the wooden floor and his footsteps to follow you let you know your conversation isn’t over.

 “Nice try,” Dabi says and slides into the chair left by your bedside. “but we’re not done yet.”

 You cross your legs, leaning your back against the wall as you sit across from him. It should have been obvious he had more to say from the lack of commentary he had for your story. Even if you’re squirming with uncomfortable emotions he won’t let you go that easily. Despite the thoughts running through your mind like a cacophony of chaos. Too rapid, too disorganized.

 “What’s left to talk about?” you say quietly.

 You need him to direct the conversation. Need him to lead it away from your grasp, less you pilot it directly into the ground like a paraglider on fire.

 Dabi watches you, his unreadable turquoise eyes half lidded. You wish he would just tell you what he was thinking instead of you having to guess.

 “Look, Princess, there’s not much I’m gonna be able to do to keep the league away from you.”

 Him calling you a princess makes your heart stutter in your chest. Especially the way it rolls off his lips like silk. His silver tongue sickeningly sweet honeysuckle to your ears. It’s thick and warming, the desperate vibrating through your senses begging for more.

 His voice is a dangerous weapon. You’ve tasted him, sipped the wine of his lips and tongue. Taken part in the divine essence he oozes almost thoughtlessly. It’s seductive and beguiling, an enchantment of his soul on his skin to beckon you into his embrace. The combination of rough and soft, quiet and strong- it’s almost too much as you remember the feel of his hands. Pulling you closer to him as if he could drink you down to the last drop. A yearning that never fades but burns just as bright as his eyes do. You’re nauseous as you meet his eyes.

 But it’s not that he made you sick. Just his words.

 “It’s better for everyone if you stay as far away from them as possible.”

 “What?” you mumble and frown. “But you told them-”

 “I know what I said.” he interjects before you can finish and sighs. “I’ll tell them you lost your quirk or something. I’ll get them outta your hair but you’ll need to move.”

     Move?

 You blink once. Twice.

 He isn’t joking.

 “Why?”

 “They know where you live.” he shrugs and crosses his arms on the top of the back of the chair and rests his chin atop them. “Once I’m gone they’ll have no reason to track where you move to.”

 The sharp pain in your chest at the mention of him leaving washes away all of the good feelings he brought on earlier. Even if he’s saying it in that dreamy voice of his it still hurts like a burning knife in your gut. Twisting your organs until they’re shredding on the blade.

 Of course he’s going to leave. He has to. Isn’t that what you wanted? For him to leave and be out of your life for good?

 You debate on asking when he’s leaving but you can’t bring the words to your mouth. You can barely even think them without vomiting up your entire stomach. All that food you just ate will not be in vain. Shoving down any and all thoughts of barfing, you take a deep breath.

 As much as you hate to admit it, he’s right. You’ll need to move to remain hidden. That’s what you told him you wanted.

 It is what you want. You have to keep focused on your goals. Getting him out of your life is just step one.

 “Right.” you swallow and stare down at your hands.

 You can’t cry in front of him. Not again. Earlier you’d been sobbing in his arms and he’d held you. Hell, he kissed you. You haven’t forgotten that part. If you even could, that is. The memory is a phantom on your skin, a ghost along your ears as you can hear the hungry noise from the base of his throat. Of course, he’d only been starving for the energy you were giving him. Feeding him back what you took through your body and soul. With blood and spit and sweat you raised him back to where he had been before he’d even met you.

 It probably meant nothing to him. Just like it shouldn’t mean anything to you. But the fear of losing him, of having drained him down to nothing- that wasn’t a normal reaction. Sure if it were a stranger you’d still feel awful but something about him is wholly different. Is it because you’re attracted to him? Is it because the connection between you two is beyond what you’ve ever experienced?

 The thread is still there, humming with life between the two of you- although you know he can’t see or feel it. It would be nice if he could. Maybe he might understand why these emotions were surfacing for someone you barely even know. He might even feel them himself.

 But no. You know better than to dream of useless, silly things like that. They don’t exist outside of your mind. They can’t. It’s just not how it works. And at the end of the day reality is the only constant that remains true. It’s harsh and it’s unforgiving but you’ll be damned if it wasn’t one hundred percent truth.

 You dread his next words.

 “I’m leaving tomorrow. Our deal is done.” his words are too quiet. Or maybe you’ve stopped hearing him. They’re muddled and murky. Drowning in something that's stopping you from understanding.

 You don’t have to understand. You don’t need to. It just is.

 “So it is.” you whisper back and glance toward your door. “I need to sleep. Goodnight.”

 Dabi lets out a small sigh and stands from the chair, twirling it back toward your desk as he ambles toward your door. He stops in the doorway, his broad shoulders tensing for a moment as he glances over his shoulder.

 “Goodnight, angel.” he says softly and his lips quirk up to a smile as your face burns.

 The wink that follows doesn’t make it any better. His soft, almost inaudible, chuckle that he breathes out gives you goosebumps. Of course he knows how attractive he is. Why wouldn’t he? It’s a perfect opportunity to tease the ever living life out of you when you react to it.

 You sigh and slump down on your bed, staring up at the doorway as if you could make him reappear with just a thought.

 Tomorrow, then. At least you’d get to say goodbye.

 ++

 Dreams and nightmares evade you in slumber. Even though you can feel your body regenerate what it needs to, you don’t feel well rested when you wake. You’re groggy and sluggish. Worn out and aching to the bone.

 It’s gloomy outside your window, rain swelling in the large gray clouds above. It’s a brief misting that falls from the sky, though. No large drops of rain. No downpour. Only a mist that’s annoying enough to be an inconvenience.

 You yawn and make your way to the kitchen to cook something up. But as you reach the mouth of the hallway that lets into the kitchen and living area, you feel even worse.

 Dabi’s gone.

 He wasn’t in the bathroom when you passed by it. You recheck just to be sure.

 The living area with the couch and television is empty. No large body sprawled across it. No jacket hanging off the back of it. No boots laying by the front door.

 There isn’t even a note.

 Why would you let yourself believe he’d even leave one? He doesn’t care about you or these stupid feelings that are getting the best of you. Why should he? You killed him! Literally drained him right there on your living room floor. Like some kind of vicious and feral vampire.

 The tears at your eyes don’t feel right. Even as your heart is thudding sharply in your chest, painfully flopping like a depressed child. You should have known better than to get your hopes up with him. You weren’t even anything to him. You knew that.

 You know that.

 So why does it hurt so badly?

 The leftover dishes in the sink wait, their silence speaking legions of words of judgement as you pass by them and to the front door. You don’t even know what you’re looking for. A message? A note? For him to just be waiting outside it with that stupid cocky grin?

 But no. There’s nothing but misty rain aggravating your senses. The world is a shade of sickly brownish green. The discoloration of displeasure. Of rot and decay. Anger swells up in your nerves and you slam the door shut with more force than you should have.

 Of course he didn’t leave a goddamn note. You mean nothing to him. Nothing, nothing. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not a single goddamn thing. You were just means to an end. You brought him back and you housed him until he got what he wanted from you.

 The lack of company only makes the silence that much worse as you sit and eat cereal. The clock is ticking on the wall across from you, mist on the glass of your windows sputtering pathetically. It can’t even rain right on a day as awful as this one.

 You glance over at the couch where Dabi would have been had he not left without a single word. Are you imagining it as empty or has it always been that… lonely? Aloof and lacking?

 Has it always been just like you?

 How nice was the feeling of someone sprawled over every inch of your life that it made you feel so depressed without it? It hadn’t felt that great when he was here but with him now gone it only feels cold and sharp. Painful reminders that you’re a helpless, useless no one that nobody would miss. Even if he had killed you like he threatened when he was trying to intimidate you- he had a point. No one would find you for days because your silence in their lives is already so common. They wouldn’t think twice about it.

 Whatever. You don’t need people anyways. What do they do but cause pain and make more drama than you need in your life? Like Dabi. He was a threat to your nice, quiet lifestyle. Everything could have been ruined because of him and his stupidly beautiful eyes. And that annoyingly gorgeous cocky smirk he gives when he’s teasing you.

 The heat you feel is not from your anger but you only get angier from it. Feeling it in your body as it betrays the emotions you want to run freely. You don’t need Dabi. You don’t want Dabi.

 You’re better off without Dabi.

 Right?

 ++

 Work passes without anything interesting. Lively tries to talk about this new teacher she’s been seeing. Some kind of prohero that worked for UA, ‘Eraserhead’ or something dumb like that. You wish you could summon even an ounce of personality to engage in her one sided conversation but you can’t. You don’t have the energy to. It doesn’t matter how much you sleep. How much you eat. How much water you consume. Nothing is enough to take away the waves of exhaustion that push and pull through your soul and body.

 It’s starting to affect your work. As your boss temporarily suspends your schedule so you can ‘get yourself together’- as she put it- you find that you don’t even want to go home.

 There’s a battle a couple of blocks from your apartment. You don’t even think about going to help and heal. What’s the point? To make up for the wrongs you’ve done with Aysu and Dabi? Aysu’s dead. There’s nothing you can do to help her.

 Dabi said your deal was over with. You both got what you wanted. So that was more than made up for.

 Helping beyond what you already have is only asking for more trouble. You should know better than to use your quirk anymore. Look at what had happened when you lost your temper. Exposing anyone else to such a horror is a terribly selfish thing to do. It’s not that you even really helped to begin with, either. You played both sides in the hopes of seeming like you were an unbiased person.

 But you were really only doing it for you. To soothe your guilty conscience. You didn’t help out of any kindness. It isn’t a dream of yours. It was only ever to make yourself feel better about your existence.

 A bar sounds great right about now. You need a drink. Or four. Maybe not even alcohol.

 You tell yourself you’re getting drunk but you don’t. You just sit at the bar and sip on one drink. People buzz in and around you. That’s really why you’re here. Because you can’t stand to be alone. You can’t fathom the emptiness that opens the void in your soul at the silence of your house.

 This is the only way you know how to be around people without seeming absolutely pathetic. Like the real selfish, useless person you are. Here you can fake that you’re waiting for someone or whatever. That you’re not as sad and lonely as you really, really are.

 “Why the long face?” a voice drawls and you turn toward your left.

 Coming face to face with a man with a tattoo that covers his entire face. His skin is a sickly green but the tattoo only enhances this with lime lines swirling into the center. It’s a stranger pattern that makes you furrow your brows and he chuckles.

 “Let me guess,” he grins, “My face?” he motions towards his cheek and runs the back of his hand down it.

 “I don’t mean to stare.” you say plainly. “Sorry.”

 “No that’s why it’s there.” he chortles. “I wanted others to keep watching me. And looking at you with those magnificent eyes one me? Priceless. I’d do it all over again.”

 Oh god is he flirting with you? The cringe that seeps into your face is only slight as you scoot further away from the man, angling your body in the other direction as he leans forward.

 “You can call me Charlie.” he grins and extends a hand. “And you are…?”

 ‘Not interested?’ you think but sigh.

 “[Name].” you mutter and glance away from him.

 “A beautiful name!” he exclaims and places his hand over his heart. “May I buy you your next drink? See if I can brighten that sorrowful look of yours?”

 No. Nope. This man is too over the top and you’re done with it. Maybe you weren’t looking for any company. Just a specific someone's company. Not that you’re going to allow yourself to think of his name.

 Before you can deny the man he’s already signaled your refill. His grin is plastered across his face like a snake waiting in the grass. Poised, waiting. Striking is eventual and it’s only a matter of when.

 And if you can get out of the way in time.

 Ah well. Might as well enjoy it while it lasts, hm?

[trellanyx]

Aim Your Arrow at the Sky

AO3 LINK

“So this is where you’ve been hiding.”

Time slowed to a crawl without any help from Crowley. Every bit of movement and sound heightened to match his growing panic: the crunch of wet sand under his boot; the waves rolling rhythmically against the shore; the unrhythmic, staccato beating of Crowley’s useless heart; and there, standing on the water, was Gabriel, his long, pristine coat flapping around his ankles like wings in the wind.

“Nice place,” Gabriel continued, unbothered by Crowley’s silence. Hell’s sake, he was probably enjoying it. Gabriel looked around the empty beach, taking in the expanse of shore and sea and sky that Crowley and Aziraphale had claimed as their own. “Open, quiet, private. Dull as shit, but then, you’ve never been one for taste. I mean.” Gabriel laughed like an old friend. “Just look at who you hang out with.”

Crowley turned to face Gabriel openly, stepping to the side until he blocked Gabriel’s line of sight. The cottage was still half a mile away, but Crowley would be blessed and damned if he was going to let Gabriel a single inch closer to the angel inside.

“You get one warning,” he snarled. His eyes flashed poison-gold, pupils thin as a virgin guillotine blade. “Fuck. Off.”

“Tsk. That’s not very nice.”

“We had an agreement.”

Gabriel’s eyebrows rose. “We did?” he asked, with all the shallow grandeur of a carnival conman. “That’s news to me. You sure you’re not thinking of…?” He nodded downward. “I know they’re too cowardly to come after you twice, but you and me? We haven’t spoken since the airfield. Am I right?”

Gabriel grinned, and a thin layer of his joviality slipped away with the tide. Crowley could see a thousand years of bloody crusades, swelling with corpse-rot and worship, living in the curve of Gabriel’s smile.

“Y’know, funny thing happened a few years ago, after you two betrayed the Almighty,” he continued. “We tried to execute Aziraphale, you know, and it didn’t take. Flames wouldn’t touch him. Very unsettling.”

Shut your stupid mouth and die already.

Crowley hissed hate through his sharpening teeth.

“Then we hear from Downstairs that they tried the same thing with you, and you survived holy water.” Gabriel shook his head. “And I’m thinking, nah, that can’t be right. Those two idiots?”

Heat began to boil in Crowley’s veins, blurring the air around him and causing the sand under his feet to steam as the water seeped inside began to evaporate.

Gabriel raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Not quite idiots, though, are you? I’ll give you credit—it was a clever trick.”

“Weird,” Crowley mused, like he was contemplating an unfamiliar menu item, not seething with hatred and panic. “I didn’t think your head was small enough to be pulled back outside your own arse. Is that why you’re here now?” Crowley tsked in fake sympathy. “Did it take that long, Gabe?”

Gabriel’s smile froze, and his stolen eyes became diamond-hard with barely controlled disgust.

“I imagine it’s difficult, being wretched longer than you’ve ever been divine.” Gabriel’s voice was soft, like feathers inside a pillow he was about to smother you with. “Your memory’s fuzzy—I get that. Still, though, I’d think this one would’ve stuck. Aziraphale at least had the decency to be properly afraid of it.”

“Is there a rest stop between now and the fucking point?” snapped Crowley. He jerked back in revulsion at the sound of Gabriel’s laughter.

“Surveillance, dumbass! Every second the earth has existed has a record. We didn’t have a reason to look before, but now, well.” Gabriel spread out his hands with a shrug. The warmth was back in his smile; a spray of blood from a mortal wound, cordiality and cruelty trickling down the grain of the cross.

Bless it, Crowley thought, but he was an idiot. Because he’d known. Gabriel, for all his inanity and pompousness, had never been stupid. No, worse than that—Gabriel was apathetic. He didn’t bother to learn or observe anything outside his own interests, and this made him appear bumbling, full of hot air and nothing substantive.

But when he did decide to pay attention…

Crowley’s wings shattered the barrier of their prison ad cracked the air like a shot. Gabriel watched placidly as they extended to their full height and wingspan. The air around Crowley was already distorting itself as reality broke down, unable to keep the demon’s true form from answering its master’s summons.

“I will kill you,” Crowley promised, his voice echoing with void and devastation. “I don’t care if I go down with you. You’ll face oblivion before you can even step in Aziraphale’s direction.”

“Oh…” Gabriel chuckled. “I know you will, A̸̧̼̦̭͇̞̰͎̙̮͎̒̃̌̚͝m̵͉̦̞̩̗͔̿̔̆̄͗̊̆̈́̀̓͂̀͊r̵̡̗̻͉̪͚̼̹͉̭̒̒̋͐̑̊̃͆̓͂̚̚ỉ̸̛̹͇͓̙͍͚̭̯͈̻̓̃̊̆͝ͅe̷̡̢̧̛̼͈̜̻͙̰̳̾̊͛͐͌̿̓̕͜ͅͅͅl̵̳̞̎̍̅͒̎͒͌͋́͌̾̔̕.”

Crowley screamed from the abrupt shock of divinity lancing through his chest, scattering light between his atoms like shrapnel. A high note, unbearably terrible and beautiful, rang in his ears and splintered his bones, sending Crowley to his knees in an acolyte’s post. He gasped as it passed through him and stared at Gabriel with mounting horror.

The first thing that was burned away from fallen angels was their name. It was the word She used to call them into existence, each letter encrusted like jewels in the crown of Her Glory. To lose their name was to lose themselves. Crowley couldn’t remember his holy name; sometimes, if he tried hard, he could see the shape of it in his mind’s eye, but it was smudged with pain. He’d always assumed the names of the Fallen were taken back into Her essence, no longer fit for creation or memory.

“Surprised?” Gabriel asked. “Oh, A̸̧̼̦̭͇̞̰͎̙̮͎̒̃̌̚͝m̵͉̦̞̩̗͔̿̔̆̄͗̊̆̈́̀̓͂̀͊r̵̡̗̻͉̪͚̼̹͉̭̒̒̋͐̑̊̃͆̓͂̚̚ỉ̸̛̹͇͓̙͍͚̭̯͈̻̓̃̊̆͝ͅe̷̡̢̧̛̼͈̜̻͙̰̳̾̊͛͐͌̿̓̕͜ͅͅͅl̵̳̞̎̍̅͒̎͒͌͋́͌̾̔̕—” Crowley gagged as blood filled his mouth. “—did you really think we’d forgotten you? When a demon’s former celestial name can cause this amount of damage, why the hell would we ever erase them?” Gabriel clucked his tongue. “Poor, stupid A̸̧̼̦̭͇̞̰͎̙̮͎̒̃̌̚͝m̵͉̦̞̩̗͔̿̔̆̄͗̊̆̈́̀̓͂̀͊r̵̡̗̻͉̪͚̼̹͉̭̒̒̋͐̑̊̃͆̓͂̚̚ỉ̸̛̹͇͓̙͍͚̭̯͈̻̓̃̊̆͝ͅe̷̡̢̧̛̼͈̜̻͙̰̳̾̊͛͐͌̿̓̕͜ͅͅͅl̵̳̞̎̍̅͒̎͒͌͋́͌̾̔̕.”

Crowley clutched his chest as the hole where Her Grace used to be was seared with divinity that was no longer his. Stupid indeed. Even the humans knew that names had power; why should the first names in all creation be any exception?

When he raised his head to hiss at Gabriel, black ichor dripped from Crowley’s eyes.

“Enjoying your little party trick? Go ahead.” Crowley staggered to his feet. “Say my name. Say it as much as you fucking want. I want you to.” He smile-snarled at the Archangel. “Let my name be the last thing you ever fucking say before I punt you into a black hole.”

“You still don’t get it.” Gabriel sighed. “Here’s the thing, A̸̧̼̦̭͇̞̰͎̙̮͎̒̃̌̚͝m̵͉̦̞̩̗͔̿̔̆̄͗̊̆̈́̀̓͂̀͊r̵̡̗̻͉̪͚̼̹͉̭̒̒̋͐̑̊̃͆̓͂̚̚ỉ̸̛̹͇͓̙͍͚̭̯͈̻̓̃̊̆͝ͅe̷̡̢̧̛̼͈̜̻͙̰̳̾̊͛͐͌̿̓̕͜ͅͅͅl̵̳̞̎̍̅͒̎͒͌͋́͌̾̔̕—” Crowley flipped his middle finger as he shook with a fresh wave of pain. “I didn’t actually come here to kill you.”

“Bullshit,” Crowley spat.

“It’s true! I just came for a chat.” Gabriel jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “He came to kill you.”

In the space between heartbeat and thought, Sandalphon slipped out from behind Gabriel like an oil spill. The churning waves died beneath his shoes, becoming glass-smooth to match the patch of ocean Gabriel stood on. His smile didn’t bother with the pretense of friendship that Gabriel’s did; it held only the horrifying truth of belief, the kind that made martyrs out of the unwilling and called it just.

Crowley reared like a hooded cobra, cornered but desperate, and furious enough to attack anything that so much as twitched in its direction.

“Can’t even handle killing a demon on your own, can you, you piece of shit?”

Gabriel hummed like he was actually giving it some thought. “I prefer to think of it as not getting my hands dirty.”

“Hello, Crawley,” Sandalphon simpered. His golden teeth reminded Crowley of long abandoned treasures in a skeleton’s graveyard. Awareness coiled sickly in his gut.

Crowley could take Gabriel, or even Sandalphon, on his own. Whether he’d win was up for debate—an angel’s powers were, by design, made to cancel out a demon’s—but Crowley knew that he could at least cause one of the archangels severe damage. But two of them?

He had to try. If he could stall them even a minute, Aziraphale could—

“But you know what, I’m a sporting angel.” Gabriel clapped his hand on Sandalphon’s shoulder, whose eyes were beginning to glow. “How about I give you a chance to prove me wrong?”

Sandalphon held his hands out in front of him like an offering, and the water immediately began to churn. When he breathed in, the tide drained away from the shore into a growing whirlpool blackening the water beneath his feet. Sandalphon raised his arms in a conductor’s stance, his eyes glowing lightning-bright and salt-white.

The flames under Crowley’s scales froze with horror as a wave grew behind Sandalphon. And grew…and grew…

And then it began to glow.

Gabriel whistled appreciatively at the literal tidal wave rising above their heads—every atom of which was vibrating with celestial blessing. Even the scent of seawater in the air was poisoned with divinity; Crowley felt his right eye start to twitch.

“Survive this, demon,” Gabriel intoned. He wasn’t smiling anymore. “Survive this, and I swear by the Grace inside me that I’ll leave you two alone.”

Fragments of ideas and plans rattled around Crowley’s mind like dice, and every one of them came up snake-eyes.

The wave had swelled too large to dodge. He could run, fly, crawl through the sand, but he wasn’t fast enough to get out of range before Sandalphon brought the flood down on his head. It would be the same if he attacked. No amount of hellfire would touch the angels so long as they were surrounded by their watery barrier. Even trying to stop time, as he did in Tadfield, would be useless to him. There was no reality-bending Antichrist to aid him, no angel…

Oh.

Aziraphale.

I’m…I’m about to die, aren’t I?

The roar of water dulled and muffled, suddenly far away, as if it was respecting Crowley’s privacy in his last moments. Realization skinned him raw; if Crowley was gone, who would protect Aziraphale? Who would listen to him read his favorite poetry aloud? Who would groom his wings? Who would take him to dinner, to the theater, to the stars and to bed and everywhere in between?

Who would love him?

I’m fucked. I’m fucked and I can’t stay and I’m going to hurt you, Aziraphale. I’m going to make you cry. I’m sorry. I only ever wanted to love you.

Gabriel waved. “So long!”

I know I said I’d be happy with whatever I could get, and I meant that, I did, I meant it because it was you. But angel, angel, I’m too fucking selfish. It’s not enough, it’ll never be enough, I want more, Aziraphale.

I want more time.

“Farewell,” sneered Sandalphon.

I want to talk with you more, drink with you more, I want more mornings where you’re the first thing I see when I wake up.

The tidal wave rose until it blocked the sun’s light, casting Crowley in a long tombstone-shadow. He should attack them. He should at least try, deny them the satisfaction of striking him down without resistance.

“Auf wiedersehen!”

But Crowley’s mind wasn’t on the beach anymore. It was back in their cottage, curled in Aziraphale’s lap with a deathbed confession.

I want more lunches, more dinners, more desserts, I want more walks and drives and I want to tease you more, kiss and hug and fuck and love you, I want to love you so much more Aziraphale, I want I want I WANT—!

“Goodbye.”

…I don’t want to go.

Sandalphon’s arms surged forward to bring down the wave, and several things happened at once.

A white-gold missile of light slammed into Sandalphon with enough force to send him barreling into Gabriel’s side and shoot them both away from Crowley like a torpedo.

The wave collapsed in on itself and flooded the beach.

Crowley threw his arms in front of his face, hissing as the holy spray connected like a thousand paper cuts in a salt bath.

He only had seconds to register the pain before something grabbed Crowley around the middle and rocketed him above the saturated sand.

Crowley panicked when he felt the heavenly aura surround him, instinctively squirming and kicking until he was flipped onto his back and saw his favorite shade of blue beseeching him to be still.

“It’s me!” Aziraphale shouted over the water. “Crowley, it’s me!”

A gallows moan pulled from Crowley’s chest.

“Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale crushed Crowley to his chest at the same time Crowley’s arms strangled the angel in a python’s grip. Aziraphale stroke-dragged shaking fingers through Crowley’s hair; his desperate whispers of darling darling darling kept rhythm with Crowley’s racing heart. He whined when Aziraphale pulled away to look him over.

“Are you hurt?” Aziraphale demanded. “Did it touch you?” His eyes followed Crowley’s down to the sizzling freckles on his arms, and Aziraphale growled.

“Monsters.”

Belatedly, Crowley registered that Aziraphale was holding him in a bridal carry. His shirtsleeves were rolled up, his vest was unbuttoned, and his bowtie was loose; he’d hadn’t even bothered to miracle his appearance, he’d been too much in a hurry to save Crowley from—

“We have to get out of here!” Crowley scrambled to fly on his own, holding Aziraphale’s hand the whole time. “Angel, we’ve gotta—”

“No.”

Crowley’s neck snapped back to Aziraphale fast enough to give a human a severe case of whiplash. “The fuck you mean no?!”

“They won’t stop,” said Aziraphale. “Not unless we make them.”

Now that he was sure of Crowley’s safety, the abrupt serenity settling around Aziraphale’s shoulders made Crowley bristle with terror.

“Aziraphale, they want to kill you!”

“Oh good.” Aziraphale turned to look over the horizon Gabriel and Sandalphon had been thrown beyond. “It’s always nice to be on the same page.”

His wrist twisted, and Crowley did a double take when he saw that Aziraphale was swinging a fucking umbrella like a broadsword. As it spun, the umbrella came alive with ice-blue fire, licking its way down to Aziraphale’s fingers and sparking like a blacksmith’s forge.

“Aziraphale, what—”

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

A pillar of seawater erupted into the air. Crowley reeled back, but Aziraphale was already in front of him, the umbrella wide open and shield-wide, causing any stray drops of water to evaporate before the fire.

“Promise me something right now,” muttered Aziraphale.

“What is it?”

Aziraphale closed the umbrella and shifted into a combative posture.

“Do not interfere. Please.”

“Azira–”

“Promise me, Crowley.”

“No!” Crowley ripped his glasses off and threw them into the sand like a gauntlet. “You’re out of your blessed mind if you think I’m gonna let you—”

“My dear, in just a minute quite a lot of ethereal seawater is going to be slung around.” Aziraphale’s warrior eyes softened when they looked at Crowley’s incredulous face. “Please, love. I don’t want you in the crossfire.”

Unable to refute him, but unwilling to back down, Crowley jabbed his finger at Aziraphale’s flaming umbrella. “What are you even going to do with that, anyway?”

“Something I should have done long ago.” Aziraphale kissed Crowley’s cheek, and all protests shriveled in the demon’s throat. “I love you, Crowley. Wait for me.”

Aziraphale floated down to where Gabriel and Sandalphon reappeared on the water, enraged and sporting several extra sets of wings and eyes.

“Y’know what, I am sick of your shit,” Gabriel spat. “I was trying to be nice about this, show a little mercy by not making you watch Sandalphon kill your–”

A shower of water exploded in Gabriel’s face. He swore and sputtered, leaping back…and gaping at what he saw. As did Crowley.

Aziraphale had impaled his umbrella-sword through Sandalphon’s chest. He lifted Sandalphon until only the tips of his loafers skimmed the water. Sandalphon looked too stunned to try to retaliate, even when his wings fell slack and his extra eyes rolled back into nothingness.

Aziraphale radiated contempt as he unceremoniously yanked his weapon out of Sandalphon’s chest and stepped away.

With his face still frozen in a look of utter shock, Sandalphon’s knees splashed into the water. He pitched forward until he was face down in the ocean, bobbing listlessly as he bled out. Moments later, the rest of his mortal vessel sank with the finality of a suicide.

Discorporated.

Aziraphale’s fire was still burning through Sandalphon’s flesh; Crowley could see a pale blue glow under the waves as Aziraphale turned to fully face Gabriel.

“…So that’s how you want to do this, Aziraphale?” All emotion, satiric or sincere, abandoned Gabriel’s face in favor of cold-iron fury. “You cowered before the apocalypse, and now, now you choose to fight? For this infested world? For him?”

Gabriel jerked his chin upward, disgusted by the mere reference of Crowley on his lips.

“There didn’t have to be a war, Gabriel,” said Aziraphale. With his raised head and squared shoulders, he reminded Crowley of a well-fortified bulwark.  “Not between Heaven and Hell, nor between us. Crowley and I have only ever asked for peace.”

Gabriel shook his head. “Without the flood, the olive branch has no meaning. You understood that once, Aziraphale.”

“No, I didn’t,” murmured Aziraphale. “I never did. I had only hope that one day, I would. No more.” Aziraphale glanced at Crowley. “I’m done blindly attacking whatever is put in front of me, and I’m done hiding like that’s something shameful.” He pointed his makeshift weapon at Gabriel; its calm, defensive blue a far cry from Aziraphale’s original sword—the weapon that fit so perfectly in the hands of War.

Gabriel spread his wings like he was baring his teeth. “You understand what will happen, don’t you? Attacking a superior?”

Aziraphale mimicked the action. “I answer to two voices in this universe, Gabriel, and yours isn’t one of them. None of you are. Not anymore.”

“You’ll Fall for this.”

Aziraphale’s form shimmered and bled until it was little more than sun and steel covered in a thousand glaring, resolute eyes.

“So be it.”

Aziraphale and Gabriel’s magic slammed against each other before their bodies did. The water crested from the shock waves and began to glow again, completely baptized by the unfiltered celestial energies rippling through its currents.

Crowley’s corporeal form tore from his body as he took off towards the fighting. He was never a soldier before he Fell—Crowley’s purpose was that of creation, of forming the precious galaxy that angels like Aziraphale fought to protect—but one didn’t roost in the bowels of hell for a couple millennia without learning how to fight dirty. Crowley swallowed what remained of earthly light into the hollow maw where Grace once shone, his fangs and claws dripping liquid nightmares. Even the broken shards of his halo were sharp enough to pierce an angel’s skin if Crowley just got close enough—

A geyser of holy water shot up and nearly took out one of his wings. Crowley reared back with a hateful shriek as more bless-bright jets rose around the warring angels like a cage. Crowley circled them agitatedly, trying to find Aziraphale in the fight. They were moving too fast and too bright; even Crowley’s supernatural gaze could only pick up afterimages, like a video with delayed audio. He pushed his consciousness out, seeking Aziraphale’s aura in the midst of the chaos.

All of Gabriel’s heads and wings were out, surging towards Aziraphale’s core to gouge him clean. Aziraphale met him blow for blow with his umbrella, the ludicrous sight at odds with how Gabriel snarled at it every time Aziraphale swung towards him.

What on earth had he done to it? It repelled Gabriel’s magic whenever Aziraphale opened it to use as a shield, and its blue flames greedily clung to Gabriel’s face and feathers whenever Aziraphale landed a hit. It didn’t cause the same amount of damage as hellfire might, but the force with which Aziraphale choreographed his blows was enough to knock Gabriel back, if only for a second.

Lightning shot down from above at Gabriel’s command, crackling through their watery battlefield like spiderweb veins. Aziraphale lost his footing as electricity surrounded his legs like barbed wire, and Gabriel struck, knocking Aziraphale backwards into the water. He reared back, teeth gleaming, and surged towards Aziraphale’s neck. Aziraphale threw up his umbrella with both hands and caught it inside Gabriel’s mouth, inches away from Aziraphale’s nose. The flames flared in Gabriel’s face, covering his head. Gabriel howled, and swung out with his claws.

Aziraphale screamed.

“ANGEL!” Crowley surged forward, water be damned, when—

“STAY BACK!”

Aziraphale staggered to his feet; half of his eyes were lidded or shut, dripping with golden blood. One of his wings was bent out of shape, claw marks breaking up the trail of snowy feathers.

Gabriel covered half of his face, his own lustrous blood spilling through his claws from the lashes Aziraphale’s magic scored across his Grace. Gabriel glanced at Crowley through the fire still licking his face, and Crowley could feel the archangel’s viciousness in the back of his throat, choking him like his tongue was swelling.

That feeling was all the warning Crowley had before the geyser bars exploded like a supernova. Aziraphale’s magic slammed Crowley backwards, burning like acid through Crowley’s teeth and rings, but with enough force to knock him almost entirely back to the other end of the beach, away from the water. Crowley writhed in the air, holding onto Aziraphale’s magic even as it burned, trying to get a sense of its strength from this small sample alone.

Up ahead the angels were clashing again. Starbursts of water rose and exploded like fireworks around them.

Aziraphale was strong, every inch of him exuding the strength and sharpness of an angel entrusted with an entire platoon of soldiers by the Almighty herself. He wielded the umbrella like it was truly steel, parrying and stabbing, smashing his good wings into Gabriel’s face and essence to knock him back. Streaks of golden blood splattered around them like paint, mixing with the shining water. Crowley couldn’t tell whose was whose anymore.

Crowley swelled and spun his rings in terror and tried to keep track of Aziraphale, to pick his essence apart from Gabriel’s own holy energy. It was almost impossible to lock onto thanks to the speed with which it was being thrown around, but after six thousand years and counting, Crowley was finely attuned to Aziraphale’s magic. The difference was faint; Aziraphale’s magic was warmer, shaded with gold. Gabriel, due to his higher rank, had a much brighter aura, a blinding white that hurt Crowley’s infernal eyes when he looked upon it for too long. It was much brighter than Aziraphale’s, pulled from a well of magic deeper and purer than any other angel—

With sickening clarity, Crowley realized what Gabriel was doing.

He was stalling.

By nature, Aziraphale was blessed with less endurance than Gabriel had. Despite how strong and determined his angel was, Crowley knew that Aziraphale’s pool of magic would run dry long before Gabriel’s did. And Gabriel knew that too, because he’d switched to a more defensive style, dodging and blocking, and timing his strikes with a luxury Aziraphale was never created for. Gabriel intended to wait Aziraphale out, to strike him down when Aziraphale’s magical strength abandoned him. Crowley had no doubt Aziraphale could still fight even then—he’d certainly try, anyway—using his muscle memory to attack Gabriel without ethereality, but a Principality with a sword was laughably outclassed by an Archangel with deep reserves of magic left. Aziraphale would lose.

Aziraphale saw it too. His attacks grew more vicious, more aggressive, as he tried to end Gabriel quickly, before his own form betrayed him. But despite the blows that did land against Gabriel, the archangel showed no signs of tiring.

Gabriel swung the clubbed tips of his wings at Aziraphale’s blind side. Aziraphale allowed himself to take the hit so that he could lure Gabriel close enough to smash the handle of his umbrella against Gabriel’s temple, hard enough that even Crowley could hear the sound of crunching bone. Light poured out of the gash on Gabriel’s head as he locked his magic around Aziraphale, beating at him with his expansive wings and causing a swirl of water to cyclone up and around them, obscuring Crowley’s view even further.

Crowley couldn’t stand it anymore; if being drowned in holy water meant the difference between Aziraphale’s victory and death, then it wasn’t even a choice worth thinking about. Crowley wrestled his magic back into his corporeal form and held it tight under his breast. His skin split, and scales flickered up and down his body as his magic frayed the edges of Crowley’s human-shaped form, not meant to be drawn so close and held back in such a way. Crowley grit his teeth with enough force to crack his fangs. He felt on the edge of a seizure, a destruction all his own, but there was nothing for it; Crowley would need to be small for this, lithe and nimble. They only had one shot.

Crowley drew back his hands as he flew towards the angels, and a growing ball of hellfire and dark energy formed between his palms. The fire had to be strong enough to pass through the holy water without losing its shape or power—power that would be needed to knock Gabriel back and give Aziraphale an opening.

Pain throbbed behind Crowley’s eyes; his pupils were disappeared, leaving behind a glowing sulfur-yellow stare. The water was overcharged with holiness, and there was enough of it flying around that it would take all of Crowley’s reserves to create something infernal enough to pass through it. If he was struck down before then...if he missed...if he hit Aziraphale instead...

It was impossible to avoid the spray; Crowley jerked in flight as hundreds of tiny burns connected with his body, like standing over a pan spitting hot grease. It hurt like Heaven, but not enough to keep him back.

Aziraphale’s magic was flagging under Gabriel’s, making it even harder to untangle from the threads of Gabriel’s power. But he was still there, Crowley’s brave, fierce angel, and it was enough. Wherever Aziraphale was, Crowley would come to him. Always.

Crowley weaved between the ribbons of water whipping through the sky, laser-focused on Aziraphale as he lined up his shot. This needed to be timed just right, or he would lose the element of surprise and Gabriel would destroy them both.

Thankfully, time and Crowley were on friendly terms.

He couldn’t spare the energy to pause time completely, but he could break off the barest sliver to slow the seconds around them. Just enough for him to see the forms previously hidden by light.

It would be up to Aziraphale to take advantage of the split-second Crowley was about to give him, because Crowley would be unable to dodge or block anything Gabriel might throw at him after he recovered. Even twist-sick with terror, he never feared that Aziraphale would miss his chance. Crowley trusted Aziraphale to save them both.

He trusted Aziraphale more than anything in creation.

As Gabriel twitched in his direction, Crowley poured everything he had and was into his attack and blasted the ball of hellfire and dark matter into Gabriel’s side. Gabriel stumbled off balance for a single second, and it was all Aziraphale needed.

With an almighty scream, Aziraphale stabbed Gabriel through the eye with the sharp tip of his umbrella.

The water instantly splashed down, leaving Aziraphale and Gabriel in a pool of luminescence. Gabriel dropped to one knee, then the other, and gripped the umbrella embedded in his skull with both hands. He snarled at Aziraphale who, without breaking eye contact, slowly pushed the umbrella, fire and all, through Gabriel’s eye socket.

“Traitor,” Gabriel spat.

“There are worse things to be,” said Aziraphale. “Deliver my message, Gabriel. To the angels, to the demons, to the Metatron and Beelzebub themselves. Tell them what happened to Sandalphon. Tell them what happened to you.”

Gabriel convulsed as Aziraphale deliberately pushed the umbrella deeper until it broke out the back of Gabriel’s skull.

“And tell them that if they ever threaten us again, I will make them wish for something so sweet as discorporation.”

Bleeding out at Aziraphale’s feet, Gabriel cursed Aziraphale in a language Crowley hadn’t heard since the Beginning. His grip began to slacken on the umbrella, and Crowley dared to relax.

Then, without warning, Gabriel’s left arm threw back in Crowley’s direction to hit him square in the chest with the last of Gabriel’s power. Caught off guard and too depleted to respond quickly enough, Crowley arched through the air and landed square on his back on the now consecrated beach.

Crowley screamed as the holy water soaked up by the sand seeped through his shirt and wings and skull. The last thing he saw before his eyes rolled back was Aziraphale’s horrified face.

The scent of clean linen pulled Crowley from unconsciousness with merciful gentleness. There was no more briny smell of wet sand and saltsea. Nothing of ozone or blood. Just clean cotton and an imprint of Aziraphale’s cologne. Crowley breathed in deep, searching for traces of his angel like an experienced perfumer: saffron and sandalwood, juniper berries and sage, and sometimes, if it was a good night, the warmth of cocoa that Crowley could still taste sweet as cream on Aziraphale’s tongue.

“Sssh.” Aziraphale brushed Crowley’s hair out of his eyes. “Not so sudden. I’ve done all I could, but you’re likely to be sore for a few more days.”

Crowley’s eyes snapped open, seized with desperation to confirm—and there he was.

“Angel,” Crowley breathed, trembling with relief and reverence. He took Aziraphale’s hand and turned it palm-up to run his lips over the lifeline.

“My love,” Aziraphale whispered, sounding as helpless as Crowley felt. He squeezed Crowley’s hand with a strength that would’ve broken mortal bones; Crowley only shuddered and held Aziraphale tighter, grounding himself in his angel’s touch. He kissed each of Aziraphale’s knuckles twice before he could drag his eyes back up.

“Are you okay?”

Aziraphale laughed wetly. “He asks, after half his backside melted away.”

“Hey, I saw a lot of eyes out of commission,” Crowley reminded him.

“You shouldn’t have been close enough to see in the first place!” Aziraphale snapped. His face twisted and broke down, and he bowed over their joined hands like he—Aziraphale!—was seeking penance. “You foolish, wretched—I told you to stay back!”

“You also tell me to drive slower and be nice to my plants.” Crowley’s voice was gentle, but he couldn’t make himself sound apologetic. “You needed the opening, angel. He would’ve worn you down eventually.”

“Don’t you dare spout logic at me, Anthony Crowley. You almost died.”

Every time you took a blow. Every time he came an inch closer to destroying you. Do you think I could ever separate my survival from yours, Aziraphale? Now? Still?

Crowley bit his split tongue and propped himself up on an elbow. He was on his stomach, his wings still out and brushing against the floor. Crowley couldn’t bring himself to look at them yet, to count lost feathers and new scars. He cleared his throat to dislodge the misery choking him with every hitch of Aziraphale’s breath.

“…And Gabriel?”

Aziraphale sniffled. “Gone. Discorporated, I think, or possibly dead.” He raised his head enough to half-heartedly glare at Crowley. “I was a bit too distracted to watch his exit at the time.”

“I’m sorry.” Crowley traced the curve of Aziraphale’s skull, down his neck and across his jaw. When Aziraphale closed his eyes to the touch, Crowley kissed both of his eyelids. What else was left to say? “I’m sorry, angel, I’m so, so sorry—”

“Hush,” whispered Aziraphale. He held Crowley’s palm to his cheek, and ran his thumb in circles atop Crowley’s pulse point. He looked thinner than he’d been before Crowley left him for a morning flight—

(how many mornings ago now? how long had Aziraphale sat in a vigil he was never meant to keep?)

—and bruise-dark circles hung below his eyes. Crowley’s gaze sidestepped reality to see the mantle of magic draped around Aziraphale’s shoulders. Its light was weak and watery, stretched thin as tracing paper over the angel’s essence.

“You look exhausted,” Crowley murmured.

“Battle will do that. Fear will do that.” Aziraphale opened his swimming eyes (Crowley was starting to hate the sight of water). “Crowley, you were so empty when I reached you. I thought—I thought you were—”

The dam broke and Aziraphale bit his free hand, trying to muffle his sobs as tears rolled down his cheeks. He never let go of Crowley, who felt his fingers become slick when Aziraphale nuzzled his palm and smeared tears across the half-scaled flesh.

“C’mere. Aziraphale, hey.” Crowley tugged at Aziraphale’s grip until he could once again see the sky blue of Aziraphale’s eyes. “Come lie beside me.”

Swiping at his tears, Aziraphale shed his clothes and climbed in nude beside Crowley, who immediately shifted until he could rest his ear over Aziraphale’s heart.

“You can’t possibly think I’d let you face any of them alone,” he murmured. “No more than you could abandon me.”

“But—”

“But nothing.” Crowley kissed Aziraphale’s chest, followed by his cheek and salt-tipped lips. “Angels don’t get the monopoly on protection, sweetheart.”

Aziraphale shakily laughed. “Well. That might become a moot point soon, anyway.”

Crowley’s heart plummeted in horror. “You haven’t—”

“No, not yet.” Aziraphale cast a bitter glance at the ceiling. “Gabriel’s always loved to pull rank, but even he doesn’t have the power to make those decisions.”

“They can’t.” Crowley reared backward, onto his knees. “You were defending yourself!”

Aziraphale gave him an odd look, but Crowley was too petrified at the thought of Aziraphale actually Falling for him to appreciate the absurdity of expecting Heaven to actually play fair.

“I was defending you,” Aziraphale corrected. “And there’s still the matter of Head Office finding out we defied them twice—”

“Aziraphale—”

“Vis a vis apocalypses and executions that weren’t, well, executed—”

“Stop sounding so calm about this!”

Crowley’s ears might’ve rung from the sound of his own scream, but he couldn’t hear anything over the drumbeat of his wild heart, panic twisting like a noose around its ventricles and chambers. Aziraphale only looked at him for a moment before shifting to sit upright. His wings were also out, and they wrapped around Crowley’s damaged back, mingling with his feathers.

“Crowley. I meant what I said when I challenged him.” Aziraphale took both of Crowley’s hands and brought them to his lips. “I’ve already disowned them in every way that counts, anyway.”

“You can’t Fall,” Crowley protested.

“I’m not afraid anymore, dearest.”

“I can’t be the reason you Fall, Aziraphale!” Crowley ripped his hands from Aziraphale’s in favor of dragging them across his scalp; his nails, still halfway stormblack and clawed, opened the way for blood to lose itself in his slaughterhouse hair.

“You, you don’t know what it’s like, you don’t know how agonizing it is, to have everything you were broken down and put back together in the wrong order. You don’t know how it feels to have that phantom pain follow you for the rest of eternity. You don’t know how it feels to be worth less than ash. Angel, angel…”

He reached for Aziraphale, aborted the movement, and curled in on himself, irrationally afraid that one more demonic touch would be enough to push Aziraphale over the edge. “I can’t condemn you to that. I could never so much as look you in the eye again.”

The clean scent was gone. All he could smell was burning flesh, burning feathers, burning hair and burning soul and Aziraphale, Aziraphale stinking of brimstone just as Crowley did, his wings turning black as disease and his halo shattering to form something twisted and ugly.

If You’d ever listen, listen to me now. Don’t put him through this. He’s the greatest thing You ever made.

Don’t drag him down to my level.

“Oh Crowley,” Aziraphale whispered.

Crowley shook his head. “I love you. I love you so much. Please.”

Aziraphale’s hands wrapped around Crowley, slowly tugging him back into his embrace; Crowley followed helplessly, but kept his shameful tears buried in the soft white curls across Aziraphale’s chest.

“Crowley. Crowley look at me.” Aziraphale stroked Crowley’s hair. “Please, dearest.”

A golden eye blinked miserably up at him. Aziraphale smiled.

“You’re right. You can���t be the reason I Fall. Because if I do, it will be because I chose to do so. Because I choose this life, here, with you. Because I have never felt so happy, or so good, than I feel when I’m by your side.”

Aziraphale tilted Crowley’s chin up; his kiss stung with gentleness and the miracle of being known. Their wings cocooned around each other, and when Crowley rested his brow against Aziraphale’s his thoughts fell silent, blanketed by the heat of their embrace and the whisper of Aziraphale’s breath against his lips.

“Earlier you said you answered to only two voices in the universe,” Crowley murmured.

“I did.”

“The first is Hers.” Crowley didn’t bother to mask it as a question, but Aziraphale heard one anyway.

“Hers,” he said softly. “Not Heaven’s.”

“And the second?”

Aziraphale kissed Crowley’s nose, giggling when Crowley playfully scrunched his face. “Oh, my love. Does it even need saying?”

This time, when Aziraphale shifted to lay on his back once more, he didn’t need to pull to get Crowley to follow him down.

[silentglassbreak]

So like I know I literally already requested one but I love your writing so much that I had to request another 😍 Maybe have Billy help with Steve's anxiety by forcing him into his pool or have a sandelot scene wear Steve 'drowns' on purpose so Billy's mouth would be on his. Omfg I'm so sorry but like I haven't found anyone else who takes requests for harringrove and honestly it's a struggle 😭

HI! Please feel free to send me all the prompts your heart desires. This one went a little off from where I had originally intended it, so I hope you still enjoy it!

I included Robin, because don’t we just need her sometimes?

And BTW, you’re the L I T E R A L sweetest! No need to apologize!

A Reason To Fall Is Better Than No Reason At All

Steve was trying to remember why he let Robin talk him into coming to the pool today. The sun, beating about as brightly as he was sure it possibly could, made his skin sting angrily. The splashing sounds from the kids had his head running in different directions, ultimately distracting him from the real reason he didn’t want to be here.

“Agh, Steve,” Robin ripped her sunglasses off of her face, revealing a red line where they sat on her cheeks. “Would you quit moping? It’s the middle of summer, it’s our day off. Would you please just enjoy yourself?” His eyes glared in her direction. He stuck his bottom lip out, pouting childishly while crossing his arms over his chest.

“No.” She rolled her eyes and replaced her sunglasses.

“I honestly don’t know why you don’t just talk to him.” She went back to flipping through her magazine, eyes barely skimming the pages.

“Yes, you do know why.” Steve’s Ray Bans sat over his hair, pressing it down in, he was sure, the most unflattering way. He pulled them off and pulled his knees up to his chest, hooking his arms around them. His eyes constantly wandered to the lifeguard chair, where Heather Holloway was perched. Her shift ended in T minus ten minutes, and then his day was going to get so much...harder.

“It’s not my fault you’re too pussy to actually tell Billy how you feel.” Steve scoffed, tilting his head back toward the blinding sun.

“Sure! Why not?” He threw his hands up dramatically and dropped his voice to just above a whisper. “Hey Billy, did you know that I’ve been, like, insanely in love with you since you beat my face in last year? Oh, and also, I’ve stared at you in the shower so many times after practice that I damn near memorized all your freckles? How about that?” Robin’s nose was scrunched up, staring at Steve with a sort of disgust. She made a disapproving sound.

“Yeah, don’t fucking say that.” Steve let his body fall limp in the pool lounger, eyes moving over the kids’ heads in the water. He counted them off one by one in his head.

Mike. Lucas. Will. Eleven. Max. Dust-

Where was Dustin?

He stood to his feet instantly, moving over toward the edge of the pool, foot almost slipping underneath him. He crouched down next to where the boys were horsing around, evidently arguing over a game of chicken. His hand reached out and slapped the water, splashing Lucas and Mike.

“Hey, shitheads.” They turned and glared at him.

“What?” Mike’s voice always had this tone that made Steve wonder why he even tolerated him.

“Where’s Dustin?” They all started looking around, then back to one another. Will shrugged at Mike before Lucas looked up at Steve.

“I think he went to get a drink at the snack bar?” Steve rolled his eyes and stood back up, replacing his sunglasses on his face and marching toward the small store. He was looking back at Robin, who was eyeing Heather from over the lenses of her sunglasses when something, someone, crashed into his chest.

“Woah, Harrington.” Hands we’re grabbing his forearms, steadying him on the slippery cement. “Easy.” Steve pinched his eyes shut for a second behind his glasses before turning his head back. He almost didn’t recognize the boy in front of him.

Billy was almost as tall as Steve, falling short by maybe an inch. His dark black Aviators hid his ocean blue eyes, freckles spread generously over his face, down his neck, over his chest. Steve would know. But it wasn’t any of it that stunned Steve, it was Billy’s hair, or lack thereof.

Billy’s blonde curls always hung just above his shoulders, mullet-style, or in a low ponytail. When Steve looked at him now, it was just gone. He couldn’t breathe for half a second, a slow grin spanning Billy’s lips.

“You alright, princess?” Steve ripped his arms out of Billy’s hands, praying his eyes, blown wide, weren’t visible behind his sunglasses.

“Yeah,” he pretended to brush his shirt off. He didn’t even fall. He was an idiot. “yeah, the ground’s just...slippery.” Billy smirked, seemingly amused.

“That’s because it’s a pool.” The words came out slow, as if that’s what Steve was to him. He huffed and moved to walk past Billy, heart hammering through his chest. Billy let him go with one last glance in Steve’s direction, but he didn’t quite see that.

*

An hour into Billy’s shift, and Steve was quietly arguing with Robin, begging her to let him leave.

“I am not watching all of these children by myself, Steve.” He was cross legged on the lounger, turned toward her and gesturing way too much with his hands.

“It was your idea to come here!” She nodded her head, now watching as Heather dove into the pool near the lap barriers.

“Yes it was…” Her voice trailed off, eyes so obviously following Heather as she lapped back and forth in the pool. After almost a minute, Steve snapped in front of her face.

“Earth to lesbian!” She shot a glare at him. She slapped her magazine down on her legs and gave him her full attention.

“Yes, Stevie?” Steve furrowed his brow, hated when she called him that.

“He cut his fucking hair, Robin! I can’t stop looking at him!” She chuckled and threw her head back.

“Earth to closeted bi-Steve, who is admittedly in love with Billy Bad-Ass!” He frowned intentionally.

“You think you’re funny?”

“Oh, I know I’m funny.”

“None of this is funny! This is torture, Robs!” She rolled her eyes then, turning her body towards him.

“Then go,” She paused and grabbed his chin. “talk,” Turned his face toward the lifeguard tower. “to him.” Steve’s eyes stopped on Billy, shirtless, glistening, sunglasses pushed on top of his head, whistle shining around his neck.

Robin let go of his face and went back to her tabloid. “He’s into you too, by the way.” He felt like his heart stopped, maybe fell out of his chest somewhere near his stomach.

“He is not.” She scoffed, nodding her head curtly. “And how do you fucking know that?”

“Because when you were babysitting your children before, I might’ve chatted with Heather. They’re best friends, you know.” Steve’s mouth fell open. Her tone was teasing, but he couldn’t tell if it was because she was fucking with him, or providing him with information that she knew would make him do backflips.

“Please don’t screw with me like that, Robs.” She threw her head back, frustrated.

“You are absolutely incorrigible, Steve Harrington.” He glanced back at Billy, whose eyes were expertly trained on the pool and the patrons, waiting for a slip of misbehavior, an excuse to blow his whistle.

“Are you being serious?” She just hummed, flipping to the next page. “Alright.” Steve gripped the edges of the chair, knuckles going white. “Fuck it, I’m going to go talk to him.” Robin ripped her glasses off and looked at him.

“Seriously?! What are you going to say?”

“Robin!” She sat back, hand going up defensively.

“Okay, okay.” She nodded at Steve, lips in a hard line. “You’ve got this, Steve Harrington. You‘ve got this.” He nodded in agreement, his body standing off the lounger. Before he could walk away, his gut twisted and he turned quickly.

“Fuck, what do I say?!” She chuckled.

“I honestly don’t know.” She waved him off and looked off toward Heather. “Pretend to drown or something.” He shrugged, squeezing his eyes shut and taking a long, deep breath. He could do this. He could do this.

His body moved, almost involuntarily, and much too quickly toward the lifeguard chair on the other side of the pool. He ran over conversation starters in his head.

‘Hey, heard you like me. Want to get something to eat?’

‘Funny seeing you here, Hargrove. Want to make out?’

‘I’m in love with you, let’s fuck in the bathroom.’

He was only about ten feet from him now, and he had yet to find an acceptable way to even say hello to Billy, let alone confess his love. He didn’t need to that very second, right? He had time. Maybe ask him out for ice cream? He had plenty of access. Offer him a ride to Tina’s party tonight? Tell him he wanted to just hang out? One of those should work.

Steve’s head was so muddled, so distracted that he didn’t even see it, the discarded pair of sandals on the edge of the pool, wet and even slicker than the cement, until his foot kicked out from under him, head cracking on the edge of the pool. He heard someone yell, and he felt the searing pain just before he went into the water.

Luckily, Steve fell into the shallow end of the pool, legs catching him quickly, only most of his hair getting wet. Suddenly, he couldn’t quite remember his train of thought. He was headed somewhere, to talk to someone, but his eye was stinging from the blood streaming into it, and his forehead was throbbing.

His left eye shut reflexively, his hand reaching up to feel an open cut just under his hairline. When he pulled his hand back, his fingers were red and sticky. The sight made his stomach turn a bit, enough to make him want out of the pool and to sit down.

“You alright, pretty boy?” He looked up with one eye, fighting against the sun’s rays, to see him crouching next to the pool. “You need CPR?” Billy’s grin was genuine, but he was definitely fucking with Steve. He returned it with a nervous smile of his own, making his way to the edge of the pool. Billy held his hand out to Steve, helping him hoist himself up onto the edge and out of the water.

“I think I’ll be alright.” He noticed Heather standing behind Billy, eyes searching Steve’s face.

“You sure you’re alright? Do you need us to call an ambulance?”

“No!” Steve nearly shouted. As if this wasn’t embarrassing enough. “No, thank you. I’ll just clean up in the restroom.” She gave him a half smile. His eyes found Billy’s face, who was wearing a smirk that had some kind of meaning.

“Yeah, I think he’s fine Heaths. I’ll go get him cleaned up, and get him a fresh shirt.” Steve looked down at his white shirt, blood now staining the left side of his chest. Perfect. “Cover for me for a few?” She just nodded sweetly at him and patted Steve on the shoulder.

Billy’s hand guided him by the wrist toward the building behind the pool. They went through a door that read ‘Employees Only’, leading to a locker and shower room. Billy sat Steve down on a bench in front of his locker, fingers working the combination.

“Sorry, about this.” Billy snorted a laugh.

“Did you mean to do it?” Steve shook his head, disbelief on his face.

“No,” It came out as almost a chuckle. “definitely not.”

“Then don’t apologize.” Steve leaned his head back and shut his eyes, wishing he was anywhere else. Before he opened them, he felt Billy’s fingers brushing his hair off his forehead. When he looked, Billy held a cotton swab in one hand, some strip stitches in the other. “This shit’s going to sting.” He didn’t give Steve a chance to protest before he pressed the alcohol dipped swab to his cut, exciting a hiss from between Steve’s teeth.

It only took a few minutes before Billy had him cleaned up, blood gone from his face, cut closed and sterilized. He tossed a lime green shirt at Steve, taking the bloody one and shoving it in his locker.

“I’ll get the blood out and give it back.” Steve raised an eyebrow. “I know a thing or two.” He shook his head and unfolded the shirt. Billy leaned back against the lockers, eyes glued to Steve, moving up and down his body while he fiddled to find the front of the t-shirt.

“You know, Harrington, if you had wanted to get my attention, you could’ve just talked to me.” Steve froze, arms halfway in the sleeves, eyes stuck on Billy’s face.

“What?” His voice was so small, he almost didn’t hear it himself. Billy’s chest shook with a silent laugh.

“I mean,” He pushed away, moving into Steve’s space. “injuring yourself, just to get me to notice you? That’s kind of ridiculous, isn’t it?” Steve wanted to scoff, wanted to roll his eyes, wanted to do something. But he couldn’t, Billy was too close, breath too hot on his face.

“I didn’t-“ But Billy was quick, grabbing Steve’s arms, and pressing him against the lockers. Steve let out an exasperated sound.

“If you wanted my mouth on you, Steve,” His name rolled off Billy’s tongue like butter. “you should’ve just asked.”

He was on fire, on actual fire. Steve swallowed the lump forming in his throat, brewed as much confidence as he could, and…

“I’m asking.”

Billy growled then, lips catching Steve’s like a lion catching its prey. The kiss was hungry, desperate, everything Steve fucking needed. He tried to stop himself, but a low moan escaped when he felt Billy’s tongue lick past his lips, into his mouth. His arms dropped the shirt down, hands reaching up to grab the back of Billy’s neck, pulling their bodies closer. There was too much fucking space between them.

Billy’s lips trailed down Steve’s chin, biting lightly at the jawline, leaving wet kisses down onto his neck. He was going to stop breathing if Billy kept this up.

“Jesus Christ, Steve, I told you to pretend to drown, not to actually-“ Robin’s voice echoed off the walls before stopping short. Their heads both whipped toward her, eyes dark and hungry.

Steve gave a nervous grin and offered a short wave. “Hey Robs.” Her voice was much quieter then.

“H-Hey. Sorry, didn’t mean to-“ Billy took a step back from Steve and he immediately felt the absence. Billy padded over to the door, smiling all sugar and irritation before pushing to close it.

“Bye Robs.” He called before letting the latch click, hand turning the deadbolt. His eyes looked back to Steve, all fire.

“Now, where were we?”

[clericbyers]

will finding out about mikes nightmares at a sleepover one night. mikes never told anyone because he always felt like he had no right to, because of everytging wills been through. will just cuddles him and tells him that of course he’s gonna be there for him, always. they’re both so in love.

[ part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 ]

crossposted to AO3

————

“We’re gonna hang with the Party tomorrow, yeah?” Mike asked as he searched through his dresser for a too-large t-shirt. It had the Hawkins High mascot on the front and he cringed to himself about being one of those people wearing their high school’s logo.

Will though hummed an affirmation from his perch on Mike’s bed. “Lucas said he’s coming over in the late morning. We’ll bike over and grab Dustin before heading to Max’s place.”

“And from there, we go into town for lunch.” Mike took off his shirt and absentmindedly stretched his arms up. He could feel Will’s gaze on him and he smiled to himself before grabbing a pair of boxers. “I’m gonna shower; feel free to snoop around or whatever.”

“Your room hadn’t changed a bit since I was gone, Mike.” Will scoffed but slipped off the bed as he padded his way to Mike’s side. “I doubt you have something to hide that I need to snoop for.”

Mike froze and really tried his best not to glance over at his desk where his antidepressants and anxiety medications resided. The bottles were in a black bag on his desk hidden away in a corner. There was something about seeing the transparent orange bottles that reminded Mike of his inability to take care of himself without aid and that reminder wasn’t one he wanted to literally see every time he came into his room. He still hadn’t found a way to tell Will about his meds or the therapy or how he heard his parents fighting and a divorce might be down the line. Will had enough issues to deal with anyway. Now that they were boyfriends, it was harder for Mike to keep the secret.

Friends don’t lie. Boyfriends especially shouldn’t lie.

Yet, here Mike was, lying through obfuscation. Never saying exactly what’s up and leaving things vague enough to not be questioned.

A wave of nausea struck Mike’s gut and he turned to his door with a shudder. “Yeah. Anyway, shower. I’ll be quick.”

Mike left the room with a quick peck on Will’s cheek. His mind was racing through various emotions, landing guilt and regret and anger and self-deprecating thoughts laced with anxiety and anguish. By the time he got to the bathroom, which wasn’t far, Mike was having some trouble breathing and he hated it. He hated the panic, the shaking of his hands, the way he couldn’t maintain basic control of how his body reacted. What type of leader was he to be losing it in the bathroom face to face with his gaunt and paper-white pale reflection? His freckles stuck out even more against his pallor skin and the boy closed his eyes with a deep breath.

Breathe, Mike remembered his therapist saying when he had an anxiety attack in the very first session where she asked him how he felt powerless about losing his friends. Breathe, focus on the five seconds you hold in your air, and then let the thoughts flow out of you as you breathe out.

Mike did as previously directed until he could no longer feel his hands shaking. He turned on the water and showered for a few minutes, taking a little more time to let the warm water massage his back with gentle pressure and calm his tense muscles. He dried off and changed in the bathroom before heading back to his room with a whistle. Will was flipping through an old comic book but looked up when he heard Mike enter the room.

Mike nearly dropped all his clothing at the sight before him. It wasn’t anything new persay; Will often word Mike’s clothing if he stayed over without packing a bag, but this—Will wearing Mike’s old t-shirts and pyjama shorts, Will wearing his boyfriend’s clothing—was definitely shocking at least. It struck Mike again that Will was his boyfriend and it wasn’t a fantasy he had been trying to ignore for years. It was only five days since Christmas Eve when Joyce and his mom accidentally revealed to the two boys that they liked each other, so it was still fresh enough in his mind, but little things like Will in his room wearing his clothing made Mike realize all over again that the boy of his dreams was really his boy in real life.

“God, I love you,” Mike whispered hoarsely, tossing his clothes in the hamper before rushing to the bed. He grabbed Will’s face and tilted his chin to kiss him. Will melted into the kiss with a soft hum. “I love you so much.”

“Love you, too, Mike.” Will pulled away and reached out to take Mike’s hand. “Any reason you’re suddenly telling me?”

“Do I need a reason? I get to tell you how I feel every day for the rest of our lives. You can bet your ass I’m gonna take every chance I can.” Mike watched Will blush furiously and he couldn’t help but kiss him again. “You and me? Best thing I’ve ever done.”

Will pulled at Mike’s shirt and flopped with him onto the bed. It was too small for the both of them, what will Mike’s height already making the bed a little too small for him on his own, but they made it work. Mike unfortunately had to squirm his way out of Will’s arms to turn off the lights but he was quick to return to Will and curl up next to him.

“Have you been thinking about any New Year’s wishes?” Will asked as darkness began to settle in the room.

“Not really. One of my wishes ended up being a Christmas gift so I have nothing else to desire really.”

“You’re talking about me, aren’t you.”

“No, I’m talking about the new Zelda game Dustin bought me.” Mike nudged his boyfriend and then leaned in for a kiss. He missed and hit only the corner of Will’s lips, which made Will laugh.

“I love you,” the smaller boy whispered in a content sigh. “It’s crazy that we can say that now. I don’t have to be afraid of loving you because you love me, too.”

Mike nodded and took a hand to Will’s hair as he brushed his fingers through it. “I was really scared I would lose you so I never said anything. And then El came into our lives.” Mike closed his eyes. “I love her but I was wrong for trying to force her to be with me. I knew it wasn’t working but I still tried. I thought we could work it out.”

“Hey, she forgives you, you know. She also thought it could work it out. She wanted it to work out just as much as you did.”

Mike still felt guilty for it all. For wanting El while loving Will. For trying so hard to ignore where his feelings really lied even though at the end of the day he still imagined waking up in the morning next to Will for reasons he never wanted to explore.

“I hurt her and I know she’s still in pain about it. She can barely stand to be in a room alone with me.”

Will overlayed Mike’s hand with his own. “Heartbreak takes time to get over. You were her first love and letting that go is painful. We should know.”

Mike laughed sarcastically. “Yeah and we failed miserably.”

“I’m glad we did,” Will kissed Mike’s nose. “My point though is that El needs time to heal and learn to be your friend again. She forgives you, trust me. She didn’t want to end things but she knew what would be best when she called it quits.”

Mike closed his eyes and listened to Will’s slow breathing. “Yeah. Do you think she’ll be happy about you being with me?”

“Of course.” Will hummed. “We’ll tell everyone on New Year’s Eve as planned. Only two days away. Get some rest now, okay?”

“Mmhmm.”

Sleep came easily when his mind managed to stop worrying about his friendship with El. The sleep itself? Mike could barely remember what he dreamt about. Things were hazy and unclear but there was blood and screams. Screams from his friends, from the people he swore loyalty to, from his mom who knew nothing and he hated the fear he had with telling her the truth. It consumed him until he couldn’t breathe, until he couldn’t hear anything but someone shouting in the distance. It was faint against the background of El’s sobbing, of her screeches as she pulled the wriggling slice of the Mind Flayer from her leg. Faint against the screams of Will burning for hours from the inside out, tears streaming down his face as he writhed in agony. Faint against the worries of his mother finding him vomiting in the bathroom one night from crying so hard and taking him to therapy that very next day despite having school.

(And god, how embarrassing it was to miss track meet and come the next day with a doctor’s note because Mike couldn’t get a stupid fucking handle on his runaway thoughts.)

“Mike!”

The boy woke from his terrors with a choked gasp, legs flaying as he struggled to escape from the blankets that suffocated him. There was a hand on his arm and he tried to pull away from it with all the strength he had, which was a lot thanks to his extra curricular studies. Mike tumbled off the bed and the shock of the fall managed to bring him back to reality. Will was hovering over the edge with wide eyes and fright screaming in his posture. Mike blinked his way out of the remains of his nightmare and felt guilt filter to the top of his emotions.

“Will,” he gasped shakily, feeling the wetness of tears drenching his cheeks. “Will, I—I didn’t mean to.”

Will climbed off the end and knelt beside Mike. He took Mike’s face in hand, ever so gentle and soft, and kissed one of the tear streaks his nightmare had drawn on his face. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’m right here, love.”

Mike couldn’t stop crying. “It’s not—it’s not usually this bad.”

“What isn’t?”

“My dreams.” Mike closed his eyes and Will kissed his eyelids, a featherlight touch on his wet skin. “My nightmares.”

“Is it often?” Mike nodded. “How long?”

“Since the Snowball.” Will tensed and Mike pushed the boy’s hands from his face. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Mike, you were crying in your sleep and kicking around and yanked yourself from my hand so hard you catapulted yourself from your bed.” Will took Mike’s face again and pressed their foreheads together. “You can talk to me about these things. You’re not alone.”

“That’s what my therapist keeps saying and yet here I am, still fucking doing this!” Mike motioned to himself on the floor and then collapsed in on himself. “I can’t make it stop, I can’t tell anyone about the truth, I can’t control myself even with my medications and the therapy sessions, it just gets bad again after everything is good.”

“Mike,”

“And sometimes, I don’t sleep and I won’t take my sleep meds so I don’t have to face that shit again, don’t have to see El sacrifice herself or you—I thought you were dead, Will. I thought it was real.” Mike covered Will’s hands with his larger ones. “I thought you were gone forever and I never got to tell you how I feel.”

“Mike, I’m here. I didn’t die. I’m right here with you.”

“Yeah, that’s the problem though. I haven’t actually been tortured or attacked or possessed or anything. I was just there. A witness.” Mike laughed hoarsely. “I stood by and watched so many people die. I was supposed to be a leader, keep the party together, and I split us up being so selfish and I just—I have no right to be having these damn nightmares when you and El have been through so much worse. And I know your mom told me not to discount my experiences but I can’t stop thinking about how pathetic I am to be like this when—,”

Will put a hand over Mike’s mouth and fixed him with a steady glare. “Listen to my words, Michael,” he started sternly, pulling his hand away to continue cupping Mike’s face. “We are all a little fucked in the head thanks to the Upside Down. And yeah, El and I are probably the two most fucked by it all but that doesn’t mean your trauma and experiences are invalid. My mom is right; don’t sell yourself short. You have the right to feel what you do.”

Mike’s lips were pulled into a thin pale line but he nodded and Will continued. “I was on meds too, remember? My mom used to always call ahead and make sure I have them on me whenever we would have a sleepover. It’s okay to need professional medical help. You don’t have to face this alone. You don’t have to control it alone.” Will pressed a kiss to Mike’s lips. “And I know you can’t tell your therapist everything, I know you can’t tell them about the Upside Down or the demogorgon and Mind Flayer, but you can talk to me just as I can talk to my mom or Jonathan or El these days. You’re not alone, okay? I’m right here.”

“Will.”

“Hush, babe, I’m not finished.” Will swept a hand back into Mike’s hair. “You saved me you know. You saved me and El multiple times.” Mike wanted to shake his head but he didn’t want to interrupt Will so he merely pressed his lips fimer together. Will of course noticed that. “I’m serious, Mike; you really saved us. You gave us something to fight for, a future to live for, with you and all our loved ones. You gave us hope and strength. You trusted me when I was the most untrustworthy person in the room. You were strong for all of us when we needed it, Lucas and Dustin, too. You are our leader, our DM, and you carried us through all that shit. Give yourself credit.”

Will pressed his lips to Mike’s temple and climbed to his feet. “C’mon, let’s get some sleep okay? Good days come and go like bad days and that’s nothing to be ashamed for. It’s never gonna stop but you can have control. You’re healing, Mike, and that means sometimes the wound is still gonna flare up. But eventually, it’ll scar over. Until then, take it one day at a time.”

Mike nodded and took Will’s hand, letting the smaller boy drag him back to the bed. Will wrapped Mike up in his arms and hugged him tightly. “I love you, understand? I love you no matter what. I’m always here for you on good and bad days.”

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” Mike gasped into Will’s arms, burying his face in Will’s borrowed t-shirt. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

“And I’m so lucky to have you, too, Mike.” Will dragged his finger down the bridge of Mike’s nose. “Now, let’s sleep so Dustin won’t be on our asses about taking so long to get him.”

At that, Mike laughed into Will’s chest and allowed himself to relax into his boyfriend’s arms. When he woke, he looked up into loving green eyes and felt for the first time in a while that yeah, he wasn’t alone and things really could get better. Still, when Will pressed him into the mattress with a mixture of kisses and tickles, Mike knew that this couldn’t last. Will didn’t live here anymore. He wouldn’t always be there to console Mike about the terrors of the Upside Down that still haunted him.

Mike needed to fess up and tell him mom the truth.

————

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[thatkidwhodreams]

The Lie

Chapter Two

Masterlist

Chapter One

Warning: Nothing really just a few religious references

When you woke up in the morning Shawn had disappeared. You began to feel worried so you got up, did your usual routine and went downstairs. When you arrived to the kitchen you saw a little note which said: ‘Sorry babe, I had to leave for work early. See you later tonight. xx’ You let it slide. He’d make up for it later. You opened the cabinet and got out what you needed for breakfast, you weren’t a big fan of breakfast but you read that if you have breakfast it helps lose weight. Something along those lines, of course you weren’t actually reading the whole thing you just saw ‘lose weight’ and you took that offer.

You didn’t have the energy to make anything extravagant so you just settled with cereal and some toast. Putting the CEREAL FIRST BEFORE THE MILK. You ate then cleaned up.

You could say you lived with Shawn but you really only had the keys to his house so it was practically yours too. You called Sofia as you didn’t want to be alone. She came in a little drowsy and she looked temporarily malnourished.

“You got any food in this place?” She asked as she was clearly watching you eat your cereal and toast.

“Yeah we’ve got some cereal and toast if you want some.”

“Yeah, I’ll go get some cereal.” She said struggling to reach the cereal on top of the cabinet.

“You need any help there...shorty?!”

“Shut up.”

You laughed and helped her get to the cereal. You were much taller than Sofia was standing at 5’9 and ¾ with a 6’2 boyfriend it was really the perfect match. You were sure to have giant children someday.

She took it from you, set it aside and went straight to the fridge where she got the milk out. She poured the milk into the bowl and got the cereal in too. You were truly disgusted to say the least. THE CEREAL WAS FLOATING IN THE FUCKING MILK!

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!” You screamed which seemed to startle her a little.

“What do you mean? I’m just making my cereal.”

“WHY ARE YOU PUTTING THE MILK FIRST? LOOK HOW THE CEREAL BITS ARE FLOATING IN THE MILK, WHAT IS THIS?!” Your arms were flaffing about whilst you were surely going mentally crazy.

She rolled her eyes “It’s really not that big of a deal. It’s just cereal. Besides everyone knows that you put the milk first THEN the cereal.”

You were sure you were going to faint, something which you had never done in your life.

“JESUS CHRIST!” You ran upstairs to get the holy water that your mother had given you and you started spraying her with it.

“NOT” spray “IN” spray “MY” spray “HOUSE” and sprayed her again and she used her arms to shield herself.

“You know,” she said ducking whilst covering herself. “It’s not exactly your house.”

“I know, but I’m here most of the time, my stuff is here and we share the same bed at night ; as long as I have the keys I’m still going to consider it my house.”

“OKAY! OKAY! ENOUGH WATER I’M COMPLETELY WET!”

You laughed at that comment, your dirty mind coming into place.

“Good, allow Jesus Christ to enter your heart.”

She looked at you awkwardly and walked over to the sink. “Okaaaay. I’m just going to turn this out because I don’t want it anymore thanks to you.”

You gasped “Do you know how many malnourished people would love that bowl of cereal huh?! There are people starving in China!”

She looked at you “Oh I thought you were going to say someplace in Africa.”

“PEOPLE ARE STARVING IN CHINA TOO! In fact people are starving everywhere.” You said in a matter of factly way

“Wow. It’s not like the cereal is even wanted because I put the milk first.”

You blinked back in sudden realisation. “Oh yeah. No one wants that shit turn it away.”

After your little breakfast battle Sofia headed home to change and sleep some more after all, she did only come for you and you did end up spraying her with water but there was a perfectly good reason for that so you refuse to apologise. Now you’re home alone, just like you were when you woke up. You decided to go to your mother’s house for some more holy water because you were pretty sure it finished whilst you were fighting with Sofia and you’ll never know when you might need it to cast more sinful demons - the ones who put the milk in first away.

You called Shawn to let him know that you were going to your mother’s house.

“Okay, erm… what time will you be back?”

“A couple of hours after you finish from work, you know how my mother gets when she sees her daughter.”

“Yeah, yeah I get it. See you soon.”

“Bye.” You said bye to Shawn and ended the call. Shawn seemed a little stressed over the phone - but then again people become stressed when they reach the workplace and you sure would be annoyed if you had the best night of your life which then had to be ruined by work. Luckily you were on holiday so you’ve had most of the time to yourself. Sofia was too as you both worked in the same place.

Once you reached your mother’s place you knocked on the door and a quick “Hold on” came through. You waited a bit and when the door open your mother had a massive smile on her face.

“Oh my baby is back! Oh my, it’s like you’ve forgotten about me.” Your mom said in a dramatic way. You rolled your eyes.

“Mom, I saw you on Sunday when you forced me to come to your church and I spoke to you on Monday because you only called to ask me how the service went.”

“That was so long ago!”

Your mother was like a magnet whenever you were around but that was only because she still considered you as her little baby girl.

“Anyway, what brings you here?”

“Oh I just missed you.” She gave you that look - the one she gave when she knew you wanted something more.

“Oh really? Weren’t you just rolling your eyes and talking about how it wasn’t that long ago since we last saw each other? Why the sudden deprivation of me now?” She asked. She knew what you were up to but if she knew what you really wanted she would be delighted. You hadn’t used that holy water since she gave it to you in high school she would think that you had been frequently using it, unaware of the fact that you just so happened to use all of it on Sofia.

“Okay fine, I need more holy water.” She gasped.

“Oh my baby is finally using the things I give her! Come inside.”

Long story short you got what you needed after spending hours in the living room with your mother talking about your private life because she said you owed her, so you had to tell her what she wanted to hear (which obviously didn’t include the parts with Shawn *wink* *wink*). You were going to leave and she bribed you with food like the witch in Hansel and Gretel, so you stayed because food is literally life and you’d make up for it at the gym if you ever went. You and Sofia have planned to go but kept blowing it off to go and sleep after work, forgetting about your plans and then rescheduling it even though you knew you were never going to set foot it there.

When you arrived home Shawn was laid out on the couch asleep. You guessed that work tired him out, but he looked so adorable just laid there and you knew that someday this was going to be the norm. You went upstairs to change into your comfortable pyjamas and headed back downstairs where Shawn was surprisingly awakening from his slumber.

“Oh hey baby, I didn’t see you there.” You had some suspicions.

“Shawn, don’t you think it’s a little weird that I just came back and you woke as soon as I got changed.”

He yawned but you knew what he was playing at.

“Come here I missed you so much.”

You took five slow steps until you reached the edge of the sofa where he was laying. He then reached an arm out towards you and before you knew it, both arms were wrapped around your waist as he started to tickle you. You screamed in shock and excitement and you fell right on top of him. He let out a short “oof” but still carries on. This went on for about five minutes until his phone rang.

“Sorry babe, I’ve got to take this.” Of course you didn’t mind that much as you were still recovering from the stimulation of your nerve endings. It was all good until Shawn got a tad bit angry over the phone.

“What do you want from me now?” His face looked strained and you assumed it was work because it always was.

“Ugh why?....okay….yeah…..okay, fine I’ll be there soon.”

Just by overhearing the conversation that was just had you knew that he was going to leave you soon.

“I’m sorry babe I’ve got to go.”

“Right now? But it’s so late. It’s 10pm!”

“I know honey, and I’m sorry but I’ve really got to go.”

“Is it work?”

“Ehh… yeah, yeah it’s work - look I’ve got to go.” He said as he kissed your cheeks nose then lips. You giggled a little but it still couldn’t hide the fact that you were a little upset still. You hardly got time with him today. He grabbed his coat and keys and headed out. You heard the car start and he drove off. You were alone.

You don’t remember what you did to pass time but you headed straight to bed and died for the night. You heard the door open which woke you up but you were still tired and you knew it was Shawn. You kept your eyes closed and you heard footsteps get louder and louder until your room door opened. You didn't know why you said it to be your room as you didn’t officially live with Shawn. You had your own place which you shared with another guy called Cayden but he went by Cade. Of course Shawn was obviously jealous at the fact that you shared an apartment with him so he got you a key cut of his original key so you could spend more time with Shawn and not Cade. You still go to your own house but Shawn’s felt a little more like home. Plus, Cade was gay and if anyone should be jealous it should be you seeing as Cade had a few pictures of Shawn and would wolf whistle at any chance he got to see Shawn in pixelated form or in the flesh. Cade also had a lot of guys over at times and there were noises in your head that you were certain you could never unhear, the trauma and spending nights curled up in your bed and humming to block out the noises like a child who had witnessed Pennywise at night.

The door shut and Shawn assumed you were sleeping. You opened one eye a little to peek at his little strip show, you couldn’t deny it was hot and it was even better as it was not intentional. You felt the bed dip as he crawled into it, he kissed your cheek and whispered a mere

“goodnight princess. I think I’m fucked.”

A/N: Just so you guys know the gif at the top is THE CORRECT way to eat cereal. If you do it in any other way...Please get out. 😂 I’m kidding but I hoped you guys liked it and feedback is always appreciated I don’t bite❤️.

[strwbrryeos]

The Magic Shop (M)

SUMMARY; Your mother always told you magic came at a price. You should’ve listened. Well, at least you got revenge on that stupid shapeshifter Yoongi.

Genre : smut, angst, magic!au

Pairing : witch!Reader x shapeshifter!Yoongi

Contains : rough sex, grinding, nipple play, unprotected sex, you’re soulmates Jungkook said so, oral, hand job, creampie, enemies to lovers, major character death, lotta angst, sorry not sorry, dirty talk, praise kink, minor dom!Yoongi, finger sucking

Links removed! Please visit my blog for the master list!

Yoongi can feel the wind rushing under him; it’s almost as amazing as how free he feels. He loves this. Loves as the air bends around him, doing his bidding and keeping him afloat.

His favorite thing, however, has to be the fact that for a time, he can forget about you.

Well, that is until he lands to find you scowling at him with a very grumpy face. Terrible.

“Min Yoongi!” you screech, causing passersby to nearly jump out of their skin.

Yoongi huffs, shedding his owl form for that of a handsome, young man. So much for the freedom. “What?” he groans. “I’m here, aren’t I?” He shoves his way past you and into the store, ignoring the way your eyes burn holes into his back. Or at least, he tries to ignore it. But then he’s acutely aware of how his back hurts and oh my god is that smoke?

“Y/N!” he screams in panic, “stop it! Stop it!”  

“What? You seem―”

“Y/N!” shouts a new voice, distant and annoyed. “Stop setting your coworker on fire!”

With a dissatisfied sigh and a snap of your fingers, the flame on Yoongi’s back disappears, though the new scorch marks on his shirt aren’t much better. “Really?” he asks, and he has half a mind to turn into a wolf right now and snap your neck. Maybe next time.

“Next time don’t be late,” you say with a simple shrug.

“Are you just mad because I bit you last time?”

“You could’ve given me rabies!”

“For the last time, Y/N, I don’t have rabies!”

“That’s exactly what a person with rabies would say.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“And I hate you.”

“Ditto.”

You and Yoongi work as you always do: in perfect tandem but complete silence. Part of the reason that the wizard you work for hasn’t fired either of you yet is because, despite how absolutely morbidly you get along, you work fine as long as you don’t talk. The wizard likes it that way anyway.

He hired the both of you about two years ago; you, for your wonderful knack for magic and Yoongi for his healing abilities as a shapeshifter. The perfect duo to run an all-needs magic shop.

It’s too bad you hate each other, though.

The wizard, Seokjin, comes down from his lot, shaking his head at the two of you as he watches you work. “Still nothing, huh?” he asks with a laugh. “You’d think you’d get along better after so much time together.”

“Maybe we would if she weren’t such a―”

“I will literally give you fleas,” you cut him off, causing Seokjin to roll his eyes in exasperation.

“You know, part of what makes a good magician is being able to work with other people,” he says as he begins shuffling through the day’s schedule. “It’s important, especially if you’re gonna be a healer.”

“I have good people skills,” Yoongi huffs. “It’s this one who doesn’t.”

“It’s only when I’m around you,” you reply without so much as looking up from your pot. You turn to Seokjin, changing the subject. “I brewed the first potion of the day already,” you say, gesturing to your work. “The customer will be here to pick it up in about twenty minutes. I can get working on the next one if you want.”

Seokjin nods in approval. “Good work. Looks perfect. But I think I’ll do the next. You get started on the three o’clock appointment.”

“Sure thing.”

“And Yoongi,” he says, turning his attention to the man as he fiddles with his burnt shirt, “I’m pretty sure there’s a unicorn coming in later. Take care of that, would you?”

“You got it, Boss.”

Seokjin throws him a thumbs up, fixing his shirt in the process, before giving a few final instructions and vanishing into the air. You return to your work in silence, humming what is, to Yoongi’s ears, incoherent gibberish. It makes his ears ring, though magic spells always seem to have that kind of effect on his much-too-sensitive senses. Your hands wave in a defined yet random way over the cauldron until it turns the perfect shade of glass blue. Despite the annoyed rumbling deep in his chest that comes from being near you, Yoongi can’t help deny that you always look your best when you’re working. Maybe it’s because you’re not talking either.

Where you deal with the potions and the spells and magic items (seriously, why do talking cloaks even exist?), Yoongi specializes in magical nature, whether it be plants or animals or that really weird growth on a person’s skin that they swear is whispering stupid pick-up lines to them when they’re trying to fall asleep. He pokes around the greenhouse, checking in on his new batch of nightshade and making sure to give the silver orchids extra water. He whistles while he works, and a few of the live-in fairies come to pay him a visit from their gardens.

“How are you, Yoongi?” asks one delicately, fluttering in front of his face.

He smiles at the creature, her wings sparkling in the sunlight but so paper-thin that they’re nearly invisible, and says, “Better now that you’re here,” and the little fairy zips away in shyness. Another fairy appears, opting to sit on Yoongi’s shoulder as the shapeshifter makes his way towards the back of the greenhouse.

“How’s your coworker?” he asks.

Yoongi grunts in response, the thing in his chest growling in annoyance. “Always the worst.”

“Eh, I like her.”

“Still don’t understand why.”

“She’s cool! You should get to know her. I think you guys would make good friends.”

The other fair reappears, taking her place on Yoongi’s opposite shoulder. “Doubt it! Yoongi is nice! Y/N is not!”

“Oh, you’re just biased ‘cause he paid you a nice compliment!”

“I can pay you a compliment too, if you’d like, Novus,” Yoongi says with a soft laugh, and the small creature is blushing, angry at having been so easily charmed.

“Whatever,” the fairy scoffs. “Y/N is a good witch. You’re just angry.”

“And you’re not?” cries his female counterpart. “I don’t understand why you defend her. She doesn’t even come in here.”

“That’s cause this big ol’ shifter here won’t let her. How do you think she gets her spell ingredients?”

Yoongi jumps a little in realization. “So you’re the one that’s been taking from my supplies!”

“It’s not taking if it’s from my own home!”

“I guess,” chuckles Yoongi, really not caring but glad to have solved that mystery. “We’re not gonna be friends, though, Novus.”

“I think you two have more in common than you think?”

“Like what?”

“Well―”

“They don’t have anything!”

“Stay out of this, West!” The grouchy fairy continues. “You’re both here to help people, for starters.”

“So we have one career interest. Doesn’t make her more appealing.”

“I know you both like music.”

“Everybody likes music!”

“And you’re magical.”

“Everybody is magical, Novus!” laughs an exasperated Yoongi. “Look, let me just go water the shrooms and then I’ll leave you two alone, okay?”

“No, no, please take West with you. She never shuts up about you.”

“Novus!” West exclaimes, embarrassed and scandalized. “Be quiet.”

Yoongi only shakes his head, ignoring the bickering fairies that stay perched on his shoulders. A few gnomes come to greet him, but they’re quick to leave, annoyed by the chattering of the winged creatures. After Yoongi attends to the shrooms (during which the damned things wouldn’t shut up about how he and you were destined for life, claiming they could see into his soul), he retreats from the greenhouse and back into the real world.

He finds you in the shop, busily attending five different customers, and he already knows he’s going to get hell for this as soon as they’re done. “Hello, how can I help you?” he asks, rushing down the wooden steps. The customer glares at you before returning a friendly grin to Yoongi.

“Finally some service around here! I need to pick up an order. Heat suppressants for a young hybrid.”

“Sure thing,” Yoongi says, moving to the counter. “Name?”

“Lee Daesong.”

“Got it.”

Yoongi turns around, shuffling through the wooden cabinets behind him. He pulls out a small sack where the name “Lee Daesong” is printed in fine, gold ink. Yoongi hands it the man and he returns a smile and a handful of gold pieces.

“Thanks. Have a good day.”

“You too. Come back soon.”

Yoongi watches as you help an old witch with a spell before escorting her out of the shop, and you close the door with an exasperated sigh, whipping around to face your co-worker. He’s expecting you to yell, but instead he’s greeted with cold silence. You seethe instead, sitting down at your workstation and ignoring him entirely.

He rolls his eyes in annoyance. “Not even gonna talk to me now?”

“I have nothing to say.”

“Y/N,” the shifter whines, standing in front of your desk. “For fucks sake, we work together!”

“Unfortunately.”

“C’mon, really?”

You look up, staring him in the eye as your finger flicks the air, turning the pages of the book for you. “You left me to deal with five angry customers all on my own, and Seokjin is probably gonna hear about it and have my head!”

“Look, I’ll vouch, okay? My fault.”

“Yeah,” you scoff, “as if. We all know he loves you.”

“Loves me? You’re his prodigy student!” Yoongi exclaims, and he can feel his blood beginning to heat up.

You stand up, glaring at him. “Whatever. Just make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“Yeah. Whatever,” Yoongi retorts before stomping off. You hear the distinct slam of the greenhouse door, and you sit back down in a huff.

It’s not like Yoongi is a bad person. He’s a great person. Hell, he’s perfect. And maybe that’s what pissed you off so much about him.

You liked him when you first met him. You might’ve even harbored a small crush on him. But after years of being groomed as the “prodigy student,” the girl destined for greatness, it irked you to find someone so good at magic―and so easily praised by your idol. Working for the Wizard Seokjin is a dream come true, but he never seems to have time for you. He might give you a passive nod after a potion well-done, but all Yoongi needs to do is smile at him and all of a sudden he’s getting cakes and cookies and a new plant to take care of.

Quite simply, you hated that. So you hated him.

The only good thing that came out of meeting Yoongi was the fact that you push yourself to be the best you can be every single day. You practice your magic into long, dark hours, ignoring the pulse of your head after so many spells. Magic flows from your fingers with incredible ease, and everywhere but the shop, at least, you are praised for it. At least something was worth it.

As the sun finally set to reveal a shimmering night sky, Yoongi flips the shop’s sign to “closed,” and you both begin packing up for the evening. Seokjin returns, his arms stuffed to the brim of all kinds of wacky looking plants and contraptions. Yoongi rushes to help him, ending up with a hoard of stuff that piled high and obscured his vision.

You crack a smile until Yoongi says, “I can feel your happiness. Stop it.”

Seokjin sets down his bags before taking the load off, one by one, and ratting off each thing’s use. “This one,” he says, holding up a clear jar with red fluid sloshing around in it, “is siren’s blood. Straight from the Seventh Sea. Pretty isn’t it? See the way it glitters?”

“Gross,” Yoongi says, his nose scrunching in distaste. “I can smell it through the jar.”

“What’s it for?” you ask.

“Really good for curses,” Seokjin replies as he stashes it away. “It’s pretty potent stuff. Good for enemies.”

“Thanks for the tip.”

“It’s not to be used on innocent shapeshifters!” Yoongi pipes up, not liking the idea of you having access to such a thing.

“You act as if I would hurt you―”

Both Seokjin and Yoongi interrupt you with a sharp look.

“―on purpose! You didn’t let me finish!”

“The ‘innocent shapeshifter’ is right, Y/N. No curses.” Yoongi smiles triumphantly until the wizard says, “And you’re not allowed to use it to make yourself into some terrifying, super animal, okay?”

“Wait, I can do that?”

“Don’t give him ideas!” you shout.

“Enough, enough,” Seokjin says with a dismissive wave of his hands. “Gods, you two really don’t know when to cut it out, do you? No matter. I’ll see you both bright and early in the morning! Now get out. I can’t stand the sound of you two arguing.”

You and Yoongi give him a sheepish grin and utter your goodbyes before exiting the shop. The streets have a wispy, yellow glow to them, courtesy of the streetlights. You see a few pixies flying near the rooftops, dancing to a tune that you can’t hear.

“Gonna stand there the entire night?” asks Yoongi from behind you, ruining the serenity of the moment.

“Not as long as you’re here,” you reply cooly. You step away from him, turning to head home. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Don’t be afraid to call in sick.”

“And make your day? Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Yoongi watches you go, shaking his head in irritation. You hear the sound of him morphing, but when you turn around, his figure is long gone. You shrug, continuing down the quiet street on your own. You pass stores and boutiques, markets and taverns before arriving at a cozy cafe on the street’s corner.

The bell on the door jingles as you push your way in, and a fluffy, two-headed puppy bounds its way up to you. You squat down in excitement, cooing and petting the dog until a shadow appear over you.

“I swear he likes you more than me. One day he’s just gonna leave with you.”

“If that’s the case I can consider my life a successful one. Hi, Taehyung.”

“Dork,” he says with a cheesy grin, pulling you into a hug. “How was work?”

“Terrible.”

“Yoongi?”

“Hate that guy.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes and laughs, walking back towards the counter, his cloak flowing behind him. “He’s a good guy,” he says as he turns on the latte machine. “I don’t know what you have against him.”

You groan. “Can everyone stop telling me he’s such a great guy? I’m over it!”

“Well, he is. Sorry.”

“Taehyungie,” you whine. “You’re supposed to be my best friend. Take my side for once!”

“As your best friend it is my legal obligation to tell you when you should shut the fuck up and make friends with the guy.”

You huff, sitting in a chair with Cosmo comfortably seated in your lap. “That’s it. Cosmo is my new best friend.”

“Fine. Yoongi is mine.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

Taehyung shrugs, bringing back a latte for you and a juice for himself. “I’ve known him forever. He’s a good friend.”

“Better than me?”

“No,” Taehyung snorts, “you both are terrible. Always complaining about each other and never doing anything about it.”

Cosmo hops off of your lap to snuggle up next to his owner. Taehyung alternates between heads, scratching them both behind the ears.

“Oh, he talks about me?”

“Don’t let it inflate your ego. He’s just telling me about what a bad person you are. You two seriously need to think about couple’s therapy. It’s been two years.”

“Taehyung―”

“Look, Y/N, in all seriousness, I love you both. Sure, I’ve known you longer, but I’d be lying if I said Yoongi wasn’t a good friend.” He pauses to sip his drink. “But if you both are going into the same career, which is, keep in mind, healing, then you need to learn to work with people you don’t like.”

“Yeah, but Yoongi is―”

“Is a person that you’re spending a lot of time with, like it or not. Might as well make the most of the situation.”

You slump in your chair, suddenly feeling very childish. You love Taehyung, but you hate how he’s always right. He’s too damn smart. “I knew I should’ve talked to Hoseok today.”

“Really?” Taehyung laughs. “The man’s a sadist! He’d be giving you the worst advice possible.”

“Well, maybe that’s what I need.”

“Oh, fuck off, Y/N. C’mon. Try it my way first. Then, if it really, really sucks, you can go talk to the witchdoctor and see what he has to say.”

“Fine, fine. But only because I love you.”

“Mmhmm, I love you, too. Now go. Namjoon’s coming to pick me up.”

“Oh?” you say as you stand. “How’s that going?”

“Would probably go better if you weren’t here when he showed up!” he exclaims as he about shoves you out the door.

“Okay, okay, okay! Bye, Taehyung.”

“Bye, Y/N. Let me know how it goes tomorrow, okay?”

“Will do. Can I take Cosmo with me?”

“Not a chance.”

“Fucker.”

Against Taehyung’s wishes, you show up at Hoseok’s door anyway, and he greets you with a mischievous smile. “Can I do something for you, Y/N?”

“Yeah,” you laugh. “I need a curse.”

―

You take a deep breath before entering the shop, trying to swallow the last of your pride. Taehyung is right, you know it. You just need to be the bigger person.

You climb the steps, and the door opens with a soft creak. Yoongi is already there, humming quietly as he organizes his plants. There’s a fairy napping on his shoulder, but she flies out of sight as soon as she hears you.

Yoongi looks up, expecting a snide remark, but he’s pleasantly surprised when all you say is, “Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

“Do anything fun last night?” you ask as you rifle through the papers that Seokjin has left at your desk.

“I―uh, yeah. Visited some friends.”

“Cool, me too.” You sit down, your eyebrows scrunched in concentration as you take in the information before you. Most of the papers are written in Ancient Draconian, and you can’t for the life of you remember what the squiggly symbol means.

“Hey, uh,” Yoongi interrupts you, waving a hand in front of your face.

You look up in confusion, not expecting to see him standing so close. “Yeah? What?”

“Are you okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re just… acting really nice, is all.”

Your cheeks flush and you look back down, averting his gaze. “I just figure that we should be nicer to each other is all.”

Yoongi chuckles and shakes his head. Taehyung. He points to the squiggly symbol on the paper. “Mix thoroughly.”

You pause, not quite registering that Min Yoongi just willingly helped you. “Oh. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

He turns around, going back to work. The fairy from before is now hiding in his hair, eyeing you suspiciously. “She’s up to something,” West whispers just loud enough for Yoongi to hear.

“Don’t be so cynical.”

The two of you are doing your own thing in silence until Seokjin pops into the shop with a loud whap. He stops immediately, watching as the two of you work peacefully. “Did someone die?”

“Nope. Just trying something new.”

Seokjin narrows his eyes, glancing feverishly between the two of you. “It’s weird. I don’t like it.”

“You don’t like us getting along?” you ask.

“What can I say? I must’ve gotten used to two years worth of unnecessary yelling.” The two of you say nothing as he begins his ascent up the stairs. Halfway up, he halts before saying, “You’re not fucking, are you?”

“W-What!”

“No!”

Seokjin puts his hands up in defense. “Sorry, sorry. Felt like I had to ask.” And with that, he disappears.

The air is thick with uncomfortable tension until someone walks in, and you both breathe in relief. It’s an attractive young man, dressed in a suit of fine, red silk and a black robe. He fiddles with his watch before turning his attention towards you.

“I’m here to pick up a potion.”

“O-Oh, yes. Sorry. Uh, name?”

“Jeon Jungkook. Can I also pick up a few ingredients while I’m here?”

“Sure. Yoongi can help you with that.”

Yoongi hops beside you, giving the visitor a gracious smile. “What are you looking for today, Sir?”

“Mm, a few things. Fairy wings, golden nightshade, black shrooms, and a couple of unicorn tears.”

“Sure,” Yoongi says with a nod. “The fairy wings and unicorn tears are here, and if you prefer, you can pick out the nightshade and shrooms yourself.”

“I would like that very much, yes.”

“Follow me then.”

Yoongi leads Jungkook to the greenhouse, and the two of them walk in silence until Jungkook says, “So how long have you and Y/N been together?”

Yoongi stops, eyes wide. “I―uh. What? We’re not… How do you know her name?”

“Oh, my bad,” Jungkook says with a small laugh. “Sometimes it’s hard to tell the future from the present.”

“What?”

“I’m a seer. Sorry if that wasn’t clear. I can see people as they are now and who they’re going to become. Trying to work on seeing people in the past, but that’s a bit tricky. Everybody’s hidden themselves away.”

“So,” Yoongi says as he leads them towards the field of nightshade, “you’re telling me that we… me and Y/N… we become a couple?”

“Should I not have said anything?”

“No I just… We hate each other.”

“Hate? Doesn’t seem like it.”

“What are you talking about? There’s not a single day that she and I have ever gotten along.”

Jungkook smiles and sticks his hands in his pockets. Yoongi thinks he looks infuriatingly calm. “She envies you. You admire her. Your ‘hate’ is just a miscommunication. Plus your souls are practically yearning to be together. I thought it was obvious.”

They stop at the nightshade garden, and Jungkook begins picking his way through them, leaving a dumbfounded Yoongi to process this information alone. “So we’re… soulmates?” Yoongi asks quietly as Jungkook picks his plant.

“Yep,” the seer says quite nonchalantly. “But beyond that it’s kind of blurry. Not sure why.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know. It’s blurry. What more do you want me to say?”

“I’m not a mage. I don’t know what ‘blurry’ means.”

“It means I can’t see. I can see images. I see you two together. But beyond that it’s all very hazy. It’s blurry.”

“Sounds like a lot of projection to me,” Yoongi replies as he leads the young seer to the shroom patch. “Did Taehyung put you up to this?”

“Oh, you know Taehyung? I love that guy! His dog is super cute too.”

“He did, didn’t he?”

Jungkook laughs again. “Certainly not. Taehyung takes orders. Doesn’t give ‘em,” he says with a smirk.

Yoongi cringes. He did not need to know that. “Here are the shrooms. The black ones are back there.”

Jungkook nods, careful not to tread on any. “Shrooms can see into your soul too, can’t they? What do they say?”

Yoongi knows the answer, but he doesn’t want to give this guy the smug satisfaction of being right. “I don’t know.”

“Hm, maybe I’m wrong then.” He steps back onto the main path and Yoongi begins to lead them back into the shop. “But I’m probably not. Thanks for the stuff. How much will that be?”

“That’s forty-six gold,” you interject from your place at the counter.

“Perfect. I’ll see you two love-birds around, yeah? Have a good day.”

You watch him exit with wide eyes before turning to Yoongi. “Uh…”

“Don’t ask. Guy’s crazy.”

―

At some point, you’re not really sure when, you realize that you don’t actually have to try to be nice to Yoongi. You can just do it. Maybe he’s not all bad.

He still irritates you, though.

“So I hear you two are getting along now, huh?” Taehyung says from across the table.

Hoseok, who had been slurping at his food noisily, stops and looks up. “Yoongi?”

“Yeah. We are. Doesn’t make him less annoying though.”

“How’s that curse going?”

“No need for your curses, Hoseok,” Taehyung replies with a shake of his head.

Hoseok shrugs. “Too late. Already done.”

Taehyung looks at the both of you in shock. “You did what?” he screams.

“Relax,” he says around a mouthful of food. “It’s nothing bad. Just take away something he loves.”

“Hoseok!”

“It’s fine. It doesn’t hurt anyone. The thing he loves most right now is an old record player.”

“Or,” Taehyung interjects, “you could, I don’t know, not.”

“Ah, you’re no fun.” He turns his attention back to you. “So tell me more about this Yoongi character. Y’all gonna fuck?”

Taehyung’s face turns at his crass statement, and you slap his arm. “We will not! He’s a friend.” The words were out of your mouth before you could think about it, and Taehyung’s face is absolutely glowing.

“He’s a friend! Oh my gods I have to go tell the whole world.”

“Please, don’t. I hate you.”

“It’s okay. You love Yoongi.”

“Wow, can’t believe she’s all grown-up. Boyfriend and everything,” Hoseok laughs.

“He’s not my boyfriend!” you shout defensively.

“Yeah, yeah. So I hear he’s a pretty powerful shapeshifter, right? Super young too.”

“Yeah,” says Taehyung. “He’s got a pretty impressive streak. And you hear the rumors about his family? They say that Min shapeshifters can become magical entities.”

“Aren’t they already magical entities themselves?”

“No, no, like demons. Angels. Unicorns. Mermaids. Dragons.”  

“What? No way. And a healer too, huh? Sounds like you two are perfect together, Y/N.”

“We’re not―”

“Oh no,” Taehyung says, “they’re soulmates.”

“Can you both please―”

“I knew it.”

“Stop it!” you bark, causing them both to stop and look at you. “Nothing is happening! He’s a friend, okay? Yes. That’s it. Now, my break is over, so I need to get back to work. I’ll talk to you guys later, okay?”

“Yeah, alright. See you.”

You shake your head, laughing to yourself as you make your way back to the shop. When the door opens, you’re afraid to find yourself suddenly pinned to the floor and face-to-face with a very mean looking wolf. Your body is frozen in panic, and for a second you forget any magic you had ever learned.

But then the wolf turns into a man, and you’re faced with one happy looking Min Yoongi. “That’s for being late,” he says as he climbs off you before extending you a hand.

You take it, and apparently Yoongi is stronger than you think because he pulls you right up, and now you’re face-to-face with his chest instead. Wow.

“Jerk,” you murmur before pulling away, the slightest tint to your cheeks.

“Aw, don’t be mad. You set my shirt on fire when I was late, remember?”

“Oh, right―”

“And then you said I had rabies.”

You cringe, preferring not to remember the more unsavory aspects of your behavior towards him. “Right. I know. I deserved that. I’m sorry.”

Yoongi laughs, his cheeks crinkling to accommodate his big smile. “Wow, I can’t believe I got an apology out of you.”

“That’s the only one you’ll ever get,” you say with a smile.

The day goes by easily; you spent most of it poured over your books. Seokjin left plenty of things for you to decrypt, most of them being lost spells. Where he acquired them you were afraid to ask.

“It’s closing time,” Yoongi says, appearing beside you. You look up, surprised to see that the world is dark beyond the shop’s windows.

“Oh. I didn’t even notice.”

“You’re too wrapped up in… what is this? Elvish?”

You giggle. “Nope. Mermaidian. Can you believe it?”

“I thought their spells were lost in the sinking of Atlantis.”

You thought so too, but apparently not. “Don’t know,” you say with a shrug. “And I’m not about to ask Seokjin. He does enough sketchy activity on his own.”

“You might have a point. C’mon. I’ll clean if you file.”

“Aw, what a gentleman.”

The cabinet complains loudly as you nudge it open, filing away the day’s receipts. Yoongi swipes up any stray dirt and waters his plants one last time. Your mind is preoccupied with the spells, though, and you’re running through the motions in your head. As soon as you’re finished, you’re back at your desk, trying to comprehend its instructions. You don’t notice Yoongi leaning on the broom, watching you intensely. The way you run your fingers through your hair, or the way your hair keeps falling out from behind your ears. The way you get a slight flush to your cheeks when you’ve made a breakthrough, or the adorable way you whisper as you talk yourself through it.

It’s when you smile to yourself and the thing in Yoongi’s chest damn near purrs that he drops the broom he’s leaning on and almost falls because, well, when did he catch feelings for you?

You perk up, alerted by the noise. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, his voice shaking slightly. “Scared myself is all. I think I’m tired.”

You nod. “Go home.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I will. What about you?” he asks as he grabs his bag.

“I’ll close up. Goodnight, Yoongi.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

Yoongi departs and you throw yourself back into your work, the solitary atmosphere something of second nature to you. You read the words of the script outloud, the hand motions coming to you naturally, and glittery, golden water fills up your hands. The fairy Novus, who likes to come and watch you sometimes, gives you a cheer, and you file the spell away, moving on to the next.

This one is a bit harder, and you laugh a bit to yourself because, hey, this one is in Elvish. It takes a couple tries (and a lot of frustrated murmuring) before you’re able to get it; thorny vines erupt from shimmering green sigils on the ground, whipping around dangerously like they’re looking for an enemy to strike. You quickly reverse your actions, the sigils vanishing into thin air and taking the vines along with it.

“Old Elvish battle spell,” you say to Novus as you file it away. “Good for enemies.”

“What about this one?” He flies down to your desk, picking a spell written on burn parchment. The writing shimmers, but there’s something deeply unsettling about it. You shrug and pick it up.

“Not sure. Looks Draconian, but it’s not.”

Novus hovers over it for a second before looking up at you in realization. “Oh! It’s an old spell from the Blood Age! It’s like a combination of Draconian and Vampiric.”

“Hmm, sounds utterly terrifying.” You smile. “I’m gonna try it.”

“Do you need help reading it?”

“Yeah, do you mind?”

Novus shakes his head, sitting atop your shoulder as he helps you recite the words. When you’ve learned it fully, Novus steps back and watches the magic happen.

―

Yoongi is halfway through his flight home when he feels it. The thing in his chest growls, twists and turns and he abruptly drops in altitude, suddenly feeling very wrong. It doesn’t take him long to realize that something’s happened to you, and he’s darting back towards the shop within seconds.

There’s an eerie red light emanating from the shop when he gets there, and when he knocks on the door, he gets no answer. “Y/N?” he shouts. “It’s me. Are you okay?”

No answer. The Thing urges him forward, begging him to just kick down the damn door.

So he does.

The door opens to reveal you, eyes closed as you cry out, your feet chained down by restraints that wind up from a terrifying, red portal. Yoongi takes a step towards you before he’s pushed roughly back by a small, purple light.

“Don’t touch it!” Novus shouts. “It’s bad magic! Bad magic!”

“What? What happened? We need to get her out of there!”

“No, no, no,” the fairy cries, zipping around the shop in a panic. “Bad magic, it’s bad magic…”

Yoongi turns to you, and the Thing shouts as he watches you scream in pain, your eyes opening for a split second to land on him before closing again. He doesn’t know what to do. All he knows is that you’re hurting and something is trying to take you from him and oh, gods, why does his chest hurt so bad?

He doubles over in pain, and his head starts to feel fuzzy, like he’s falling asleep. The Thing roars, and he blacks out.

When he wakes up, he’s in his apartment. He does not remember getting there. He also does not know why you’re cradled in his arms, nor does he know why he physically can’t bring himself to let you go. But most importantly, why are the two of you on the hard-fucking-floor?

Yoongi lifts you gently and brings you into his room. He tucks you underneath the covers before tucking you under him, his arms wrapped protectively around you as he pulls you tightly to his chest. He breathes in your scent before drifting off again, his mind hazy.

―

You wake with a start, the previous night’s events rushing back to you at once. You remember Novus. You remember the language. You remember the words. You remember watching as your hands conjured a portal straight from Hell, and you watched as the Devil’s Ropes ensnared your feet, then your legs and hands. You remember a voice, a deep, ugly voice whispering your darkest fears in your ears. You remember blinding pain, coursing through your body as if in your very blood. But most important you remember Yoongi. He was there. He transformed into something terrible, something you never though capable, and he closed the portal himself.

And as everything came back to you, your body shook, and tears fell from your face. You bury your head in the pillow, afraid that when you open your eyes you would see it all again.

But when you do open your eyes again it’s to a soft-smiling Yoongi, gently rubbing the tears off your cheeks. “Don’t worry,” he says, “You’re safe with me.”

You hesitate, all of a sudden unsure of how to act, before rolling into him, body pressed right against his as you cry. He holds you close, stroking you lightly and whispering reassurances until your body stops trembling.

“Thank you,” you mumble into his chest. “Thank you for saving me.”

He leans down and kisses your head, an act that doesn’t go unnoticed by either of you. “What would I do without my favorite coworker?”

You sit up abruptly. “Work! Seokjin’s gonna kill me! I’m―”

“Come here,” he says, grabbing you by the hand and putting you back on the bed. “You’re taking a day off. I’ll tell him what happened.”

“But Yoongi―”

“Good luck trying to argue with me,” he laughs. “I’ll send Taehyung over to check on you, okay?”

You nod, sinking back down into the bed. “Okay.”

―

“I can’t believe it! He’s your prince charming!”

“Shut up, Tae. So he saved me from a demonic portal. Big deal.”

“Gods, you’re dense.”

“What are you talking about?” you groan.

“Okay, tell me, how did Yoongi know to come back for you?”

“Uh, I don’t know, lucky guess?”

“You know, as smart as you are, you can be pretty stupid.”

“Hey!”

“Shapeshifters have what can only be described as a thing in their chest, right? The source of all their powers?”

“Yeah, yeah. This is common knowledge, Tae.”

“Well the Thing is alert to danger when something they care strongly for is in trouble.”

“Okay…?”

“Holy fuck, you’re slow! He cares about you! And a hell of a lot too if his Thing thinks you’re that important.”

“What, so, it thinks I’m like his mate?”

“I mean, weird way to put it, but yeah. Pretty much.”

You lean back, your soup long forgotten. “Woah.”

“Now the question is, how do you feel about him?”

“I actually… I don’t know. I guess I’ve never thought about it.”

“Well, get thinking about it. ‘Cause the truth is out there for him at least. I know you like to hide yourself from people, Y/N,” Taehyung says, standing to clean up. “But do yourself a favor, okay? Don’t hide from him.”

Taehyung leaves you confused and irritated in Yoongi’s apartment, and there’s not much for you to do except pace back and forth impatiently.

“How do I feel about Yoongi?” you said aloud. “Hell if I know!” You flick your fingers in agitation, sparks flying from them every so often. Okay, yes, he’s good looking. Really good looking, but who’s paying attention? He’s got a heart of gold; you’ve seen it firsthand.

But that doesn’t mean you like him, right?

Sure, he can be equal parts infuriating and equal parts endearing. And, sure, the way that little kids and magical creatures alike flock to him is the cutest thing you’ve ever seen, and yes, he has the cutest smile, and wow you wish you weren’t so stupid because you’ve obviously liked him for a while now. Maybe you even loved him. At this point, who knew? Certainly not you.

You flop down on his couch in defeat. You really should’ve seen that coming from a mile away. At least Taehyung did.

The door rattles and keys jingle from the other side of it, and you realize that the sun had set long ago. You sit up, looking a bit frazzled as Yoongi walks in, and he looks just as startled, not really expecting you to pop up like that.

“What’s up?” he asks with a laugh, placing his keys on the counter.

“Not much. Thanks for sending Taehyung over by the way. How was work? Was Seokjin mad? Is he going to fire me?”

“Relax,” he says as he comes to sit next to you. “He felt really bad, actually. He never meant to put that spell in your stack.”

“Oh.”

Yoongi looks at you with a sweet, sincere smile, and suddenly it’s like you’re seeing him for the first time. His pretty, pale skin. The way his hair falls over his head. His deep, thoughtful eyes.

“Something wrong?” he asks, pulling you out of your trance.

“Um. No. Actually. Okay, wow, I just…”

Don’t hide from him.

“I wanna tell you something.”

“Why doesn’t that sound good?”

“No, no, it’s good!” You pause. “I hope.”

“You’re making me nervous.”

“Okay, okay.” You take a deep breath. Taehyung’s words replaying in your mind.

Don’t hide from him.

“I… think I like you.”

Yoongi stares at you for a moment, and you think he’s about to reject you, and you swear you’re going to murder Kim Taehyung until he says, “That’s a relief.” He inches closer to you, and suddenly you’re very aware of your proximity. “Because I think I like you, too.”

Overwhelmed with the incredible urge to kiss the man in front of you, you only hesitate for a second before your lips are on his, and suddenly everything feels right in the world.

You can’t explain it; maybe it’s magic. Something is dancing through you, lifting you up and making your heart race. It’s something to do with Yoongi, you know, but beyond that you can’t tell. All you really care about is the fact that his lips are so soft and you wish you had done this sooner.

Yoongi’s hand slides to your waist and pulls you onto his lap, desperate to have you as close as possible. The thing in his chest is fucking ecstatic, having waited too long. Yoongi bites down gently on your bottom lip, and your mouth opens to let out a small gasp, a sound he quickly swallows back down. His hands are digging roughly into your sides, itching to go farther but afraid to make the first move. You’re wrapped around his neck, stroking the sensitive skin there.

You depart from his lips, evoking a quiet, needy sound from him as you move across his cheek and down his jaw before reaching his neck. You nip the skin, and Yoongi can’t help but grind up into you. It occurs to you that Min Yoongi is hard underneath you, and you’re doing no better, and you grind down into him, eliciting the sweetest of sounds from him.

“Y/N… we can… we can stop.”

“I don’t want to.”

“A-Are you sure.”

You pause to look up at him and nod eagerly. “I’m sure.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to hold back,” he says, and the look in your eyes tells you that he’s telling the truth.

You lean in close and whisper, “I don’t want you to.”

He growls, wrapping you around his waist as he stands and carries you into the bedroom. He hardly hesitates, stripping his clothes off before ripping off your own. His eyes drink you in, loving the sight of you flushed and spread out before him, and he’s barely begun. He takes your mouth back in his before leaving kisses across your body, making sure to take pleasured time at your nipples.

He pinches one, rolling it between his fingers as he licks and laps at the other, not ever really wanting to stop because the sounds you make are oh, so pretty. But if it’s sounds he wants then it’s sounds he gets as a stray finger finds its place at your folds, flicking at your clit.

You arch your back, yelling out Yoongi’s name, and he hums in satisfaction. “That’s it, pretty girl. Say my name.”

“Y-Yoongi,” you moan as he descends, wanting to taste you for himself.

“You’re so wet for me already. I’m sorry to keep you waiting.”

“Please, Yoongi,” you whimper, already so pathetically fucked out for him.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll take care of you.”

Yoongi sticks his tongue out quickly, just to see your reaction, but it’s hard to tease you when you’re pushing so hard on his head. You yank on his hair, and he gives you a slap on the leg that says, “Behave.”

You squirm under him as he finally puts his mouth on you, tongue working wonders. He easily slips two fingers inside you and you cry out, the sensation nothing but bliss. He licks at you roughly and fucks you on his fingers, loving the way you twist and turn beneath him.

“You taste so good, baby,” he says before returning back to your dripping center.

“Fuck, fuck, Yoongi,” you murmur as he nibbles at your clit. “Don’t stop.”

“You’re not in charge here, baby,” he says before standing up and giving your pussy a slap. You yelp, gripping tightly to the bedsheets. Yoongi’s face is coated in your juices, and he’s never looked happier. “Come here,” he commands.

You obey, though at first you have trouble, your legs shaking from denied pleasure. “Why don’t you get me ready for you?” You take a hold of his cock, already leaking precum and just begging to be sucked, but as you lean in towards him, he grabs a hold of your hair and says, “Nah, uh, baby. I’m gonna give everything I have to that sweet pussy of yours.”

You nod, not able to find a voice for yourself. You pump him gently, and he closes his eyes and relishes the feeling. You pick up your pace and his mouth drops open, face scrunched in concentration as he tries not to cum in your hand right then and there.

Eventually he’s had enough, and he says, “Lay back, babe.”

Your back hits the mattress without a second though, eager to finally have him inside of you. Yoongi laughs, stopping to kiss you gently. He massages your thighs a couple of times before looking deep into your eyes. He doesn’t have to say anything to ask, “Is this okay?”

You give him a small nod, telling him to go ahead. He chases your lips one last time before lining himself up at your entrance.

“Please, Yoongi,” you plead.

He doesn’t respond, but looks at you through lidded eyes, his body awash with lust. “I’ll try to hold back.” He pushes his way in, and the both of you have your heads thrown back in groans of pleasure.

“D-Don’t,” you pant, struggling to find your voice. “Don’t hold back.”

“Baby…”

You grab his arm in urgency, the only thing on your mind the desperate urge to be fucked. “Please!”

Yoongi nods, withdrawing from you carefully before slamming back into you. The force has him slipping out of you, so he respositions himself and holds you close before entering you again. His grip is tight, and you can do nothing but sit there and take it.

Yoongi fucks into you with abandon, pouring everything from the last two years into his thrusts. Hate. Anger. Jealousy. Friendship. Happiness. Adoration.

He’s losing his goddamn mind inside you, and you’re no better.

Something’s alight inside of you, a fine sheen of sweat coating your body, but it’s nothing compared to the feelings raging inside you. You want this to last forever. “Yoongi,” you say, your mind dizzy with lust, “look at me.”

Yoongi does, a hand on your waist coming to trap your wrists above your head, and he stares right into your soul as he fucks the life out of you. You lean up to kiss him, though it’s more or less just tongue on tongue. The room is nothing but the sound of sex, and you can feel your orgasm approaching.

It starts in your toes, climbing its way up your body until you’re shivering. It starts to coil, centering in your stomach.”Y-Yoongi… Fuck… I’m gonna―fuck―I’m gonna cum.”

“I know, babe. Me too. Just wait. Just wait.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Touch me, please.”

Yoongi’s hand darts to your clit, feverishly working the sensitive bud. Your nails dig into his back, the sensation becoming too much.

“Cum with me, babe,” he says, and that’s all it takes for the two of you to come undone together.

You open your mouth in a scream, and Yoongi sticks two fingers in. You bob your head on them as if you were sucking his cock, muffling the sounds of your orgasm.

Finally the two of you come down, heaving as you collapse back onto the bed. You can feel the cum dripping out of you, but you really don’t give a damn. Everything just feels too good.

“Y/N?” Yoongi says through heavy breathing.

“Hm?” you answer sleepily.

“I think I lied earlier. When I said I liked you.”

“What?”

“I think I’m falling in love with you.”

―

And you fall in love right back, and Seokjin is so sick of seeing the two of you cuddle at work that he is actually contemplating firing you both.

“I think I liked it better when you guys always argued,” Seokjin grumbles as he rifles through paperwork. Yoongi only grins, stealing a kiss from you on his way to the greenhouse. “Yuck. Definitely liked it better when you guys always argued.”

“Bite me,” you laugh, sticking your tongue out in defiance.

“That’s my job!” Yoongi calls from the other side of the shop, and Seokjin groans in disgust. You scratch at your hand as you continue to work; the annoying itch set in about two weeks ago and still hasn’t gone away. Seokjin takes notice, and grabs it to inspect.

“Still there, huh?”

“Yeah. Not sure what it is.”

“Get bit?”

“I don’t see a bite mark.”

“I can put a salve on it.”

“Yeah, please.”

Yoongi’s traipsing through the water lily garden when he hears Seokjin shout, “Yah! Get some blue shrooms for your girlfriend! I’m doing a thing!”

“Sounds sketch!” he shouts back but does as he’s told. The shroom patch is extra chatty today, much to his chagrin, and they’re all eager to get a word in. He does a pretty good job at ignoring them until a cursed shroom speaks up. They only have one; it’s good for enemies, as Seokjin says, and it’s an ugly, little thing. It’s green and brown and speaks with venom in its voice.

Yoongi is expecting some vicious jibe or harsh remark, but instead the shroom just says, simply, “What do you love most?”

Yoongi hesitates. “What?”

“You heard me.” The shroom repeats itself. “What, in your life, do you love most?”

It sounds like a harmless question, so Yoongi answers, “Y/N, of course.”

“Of course,” the shroom says, and its mouth morphs into a horrible grin as a shrill scream pierces the air. Yoongi looks up in a panic, knowing full well that that’s you.

“What did you do?” Yoongi shrieks, the thing in his chest bubbling in fear and anger.

“Nothing that wasn’t already done.”

Yoongi rips the shroom out of the ground and throws it onto the floor before running as fast as he can. His human legs, he decides, aren’t fast enough and he’s at your side in the form of a big, black wolf. He morphs back into a human and holds you in his arms, searching to Seokjin for answers.

“What the fuck happened?” he asks, panic rising in his chest.

Seokjin looks just as alarmed. “I don’t know! She was just standing here! And then something happened, I don’t know, and now there’s a mark on her hand!”

“A mark? What mark?” He turns to look down at you and finds you sobbing, clutching desperately at your left hand. His heart aches to see you that way, and the Thing isn’t too happy about it either. “Baby,” he says, “let me see your hand.”

“I c-can’t,” you sob. “H-Hurts, Yoongi, it hurts!”

“Let me see. We can make it go away.”

With coaxing from both Yoongi and Seokjin, you’re able to release your hand long enough to show them the source of your pain. A large ‘X’ is embedded in your skin, written in an odd mix of gold glitter and your own blood.

Seokjin frowns, a look that does not put Yoongi at ease, and says, “Let’s put her to sleep for a bit. Then we can try and discern what’s wrong.”

Yoongi doesn’t have nearly half a second to protest when Seokjin is already casting the spell, and you fall limp in Yoongi’s arms. At least you’re not crying anymore. Yoongi carries you upstairs at Seokjin’s behest and lays you on his bed.

“What the hell is that?” he asks the wizard who’s pacing nervously around the room. He doesn’t get an answer when two figures zap into the room.

“Got your message,” Taehyung says, rushing to your side. “What happened?”

“Maybe you can tell me,” Seokjin replies, anger lacing his voice.

“What? Are you trying to imply I had something to do with it?”

“No. But your friend here might.”

Hoseok looks up in shock. “Okay, I am a lot of things but never, never would I hurt Y/N.”

“Look at her hand,” Seokjin says simply, and the color drains from Hoseok’s face.

“What? But I…”

Then he notices Yoongi standing there, and everything clicks into place. He storms at him, grabbing the shapeshifter and thrusting him against the wall.

“What the fuck?” Yoongi growls, ready to tear him limb from limb.

“What did you do?” Hoseok hisses, and Yoongi can only stare at him dumbfounded.

“What did I do? What did you do?”

“What did you do right before this happened? Right before the mark appeared?” Hoseok pressed.

“I… I don’t know! I was having a conversation with a dumb shroom, is all!”

“You idiot! Shrooms can see into the future!”

“So?”

“Gods, you activated the curse!”

“What curse?”

“Ah, the curse, the curse…” Hoseok mumbles, letting Yoongi down.

Taehyung approaches his friend, and he looks quite calm, so Yoongi isn’t expecting him to slap him so hard across the face.

“Motherfucker,” he fumes. “I told you. I told you. Look what you’ve done!”

“She came to me!”

“And all you had to do was say no! It’s easy! One word! N-O!”

“Will someone please tell me what the fuck is going on here?” Yoongi bellows over the chaos, his voice reverberating enough to shake the room. Yoongi notices that Seokjin is crying, Taehyung’s eyes are glassy, and Hoseok looks like he’s about to collapse; he’s not so sure he wants to know anymore.

“You tell him,” Taehyung whispers. “You tell him.”

“I… I’m sorry… The curse… You can’t go back…”

“W-What?”

“It’s the Devil’s Trade,” Seokjin says, his voice rough. Yoongi has never heard him sound so wrecked. “Take away the thing your enemy loves most.” Yoongi sucks in a breath. “And you shall have the ultimate revenge.”

“At the time of the curse, you loved a record player the most. She was supposed to ask you about. She was supposed to ask you the question. But then she wanted to be nice to you and started being friends, and I guess she forgot.”

“So you’re…” Yoongi stumbles backwards. He can’t breathe. “She’s gonna… I’m…”

“I’m sorry,” Hoseok mumbles again. “She’s gonna die.”

Yoongi doesn’t even realize he’s crying until he can’t see anymore. All he can see is your broken figure, barely heaving a breathe in Seokjin’s bed. Yoongi does what he does best: he runs. He runs right out of the shop and right into the sky.

Yoongi can feel the wind rushing under him; it tugs on his wings like the hand that tugs at his heart. He hates this. Hates that all of a sudden he has no control, his life seemingly flailing like a flag in the wind.

The worst thing, however, has to be the fact that all he can remember is you.

The thing in his chest tells him to go be with you, to be by your side, but he can’t bear to see you like that. He wants to see you laugh and smile and dance with him. He wants to see you waking up next to him. He wants to see you when he comes home.

But he knows it’s not an option. He needs to be strong for you. 

He lands again, and stares at the building where he knows you’re sleeping. He takes a deep breath and steps inside the magic shop, exchanging his fears for a positive attitude.

[ladyboltontoyou]

Arthur Morgan x Reader: Farmer’s Daughter. 6

Ask: oh my god! what if the parents from your “farmer’s daughter” fic found a wealthy man and they wanted him and their daughter to “get together” so they arranged some kind of a meeting for them. Since the girl knows Arthur there’s literally nothing this guy, her parents found, can impress her with. When she’s about to be bored to death they dump into Arthur in town? He rescues her and they take off, he gets a little jealous and it ends up in some smut in the bushes?! oh pretty please! love you!

Warning: Cursing, smut.

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader.

A/N: I fucking loved writing this omfg. hope you love it as much as I do!

A week later and you hadn’t seen Arthur since. You were worried to pieces, even though he had told you before that sometimes he had to travel for work unexpectedly. It was hard not to think of everything that could have happened to him. And to make it worse, the last thing he had said to you was ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’. Maybe if he didn’t say that you wouldn’t be in such a bad state of mind.

Also, unknowing to you, your parents had been up to something for the whole week you had been stressing over Arthur. If you hadn’t been under so much mental pressure you would have noticed they were planning something.

The day they had been out they met up with their two longtime friends in Saint Denis. They had a son named Thomas a few years older than you, you’d met him once when you were both very young but neither of you remembered it. Since you were both of age now, his and your parents decided it would be a good idea to spring a meeting upon you. Of course Thomas knew about it, why wouldn’t he? It seemed everyone knew about it besides you.

You were in the garden reading a book trying to distract yourself when they decided to spring the whole thing upon you. You sat on your favorite bench under your mother’s lemon tree, halfway through the book when you heard the sound of footsteps on grass.

“There you are!” Your father said as though he had been looking for you for hours. “Come inside, we have some very special guests I’d like you to meet.”

You squinted up at him and sighed, putting your pressed leaves between your pages. “They’re worth me putting my book down?”

He hummed and pretended to be deep in thought. After a moment he snapped his fingers and clicked his tongue. “Yes! They are. Now come on. Don’t keep them waiting.”

“Alright, alright.” You rolled your eyes and stood up from the bench, brushing off some of the jasmine flowers that had gathered in your lap.

Once inside you were met with three people, all with their backs towards you. They were all dressed nicely, especially the tallest man.

When your mother saw you came in her eyes brightened up and she smiled widely. “(Y/N)! You remember Mr. and Ms. Dewitt, don’t you?”

The name rang a bell, but when they turned around you had no idea who they were. “Of course I do!” You smiled, not wanting to be rude. “How could I forget?”

The couple, obviously pleased with your response, smiled widely and complimented you and your dress. They exchanged small talk for a while before their true reason for visiting was to reintroduce you to their son.

“You remember Thomas, don’t you?” Ms. Dewitt asked, referring to the overdressed man next to her. “Our son?”

You put on another smile and lied again with a nod of your head. “It’s been so long I almost forgot!” You laughed, causing everyone else to chuckle as well.

“Excuse me for saying this, but, I just can’t help but be struck by your beauty.” He said in a wonder-filled voice. “When my parents told me you were beautiful I didn’t take them serious enough.” Wow, where did that come from?

The first thing you did was recoil in surprise but you were quick to correct yourself. “Oh, thank you!” You pretended to be bashful, knowing that’s what was expected of you. You had manners but they would only extend so far, you hoped your parents didn’t expect anything to come of this.

“(Y/N),” Mr. Dewitt started and you looked at him with a smile. “My wife and I have made reservations at the new diner in Saint Denis for the two of you to have lunch. Why don’t you head out now so you can have time to catch up on the ride?”

You looked at your parents in surprise but they didn’t seem to notice. Had they been in on it too, you wondered? Well, you were around the age your mother was when she married your father. You supposed they thought it was time for you to find a husband as well.

“Oh, of course. How generous of the two of you!” You said when you regained your bearings. “I’ve been wanting to go there for a while now, thank you so much for the opportunity.”

“Of course darling!” Ms. Dewitt beamed along with her husband, they were clearly pleased with your reaction.

“We’ll be off then, it was wonderful seeing you again, Mr. and Ms. (L/N).” Thomas said and crossed the room to take your arm in his. Before you could tell your parents goodbye he was walking you out the front door.

In some way you had to be grateful to your parents, the whole ordeal took your mind off of Arthur for a bit. The surprise of it all was so intense you had trouble processing it Normally, your parents were very open and communicative with everything in their lives. The fact they kept this a secret from you was so strange you still wondered if you were missing something.

“A wonderful day, isn’t it?” Thomas said as he helped you up on the wagon he and his family rode in on.

“It definitely is.” You sighed and got comfortable. Hopefully, today would go by quickly. You just wanted to get it over with and come back home.

“Are you familiar with the sport of archery?” Jesus, why did this guy talk like that all the time? That was going to get annoying quick.

“Sure am.” You worked on pushing back your cuticles.

“Well, what do you think of it?”

You looked at him with a tired expression and forced a smile. “I think it’s great.”

Thomas smiled back and whipped the reigns, forcing the horses to go faster. You looked to your side at the landscape passing by and wished for something to happen so this already dreadful date would end. Sophisticated men were always so fucking boring. You wished you were with Arthur instead.

Oh, Arthur. Your heart ached at the thought.

“So, your father sells horses, does he?” He asked and pulled a cigar from his coat pocket. After lighting it he pulled a big puff of smoke and blew it out, not noticing that it had blown directly in your face.

“Yes.” You waved the smoke away.

“Good business?”

“Yes.”

He made a humming sound and offered you the cigar. You politely declined and watched the trees pass by. You were almost in town, thank god.

“You ever hold one of these?” You looked back to him and saw he was holding a revolver in his hand, still driving with the other.

“Woah, jesus!” You laughed nervously. The last thing you expected was to see a gun in the hands of a stranger who was supposed to be a gentleman.

He laughed, mistaking your nervousness for something else. “It was my fathers. He gave it to me for my twenty-fourth birthday.” He flipped the gun around, admiring it. “Would you like to shoot it?”

“No thank you.”

“I insist!”

You looked at him with furrowed brows, your top lip raised in confusion and a little bit of disgust. Where did his manners go? “Fine.” You took the gun from him and tried to resist the urge to shoot him. You pulled the hammer back and fired at a passing tree, missing it because one of the wheels ran over a large rock.

Thomas grinned and took the gun back from you. “Let me show you how it’s done.”

You crossed your arms and watched as he fired at another tree, totally ignoring the fact that you were entering town and he was being extremely irresponsible. When he hit the easy target he laughed and blew out a large puff of smoke, looking to you with a smile. Arthur could shoot better. And he wasn’t cocky about it.

“Impressive.” You lied and watched the people you passed walking on the sidewalk. Right when you passed the stables you swore you saw a familiar face, but he wasn’t looking in your direction so you couldn’t be sure.

“Would you mind if I stopped by the post office? I should only take a second.”

“Of course not.” You yawned and took interest in the lake off to the side. A few people were fishing and you saw two men arguing over something serious.

Once Thomas went inside you sighed and picked up his still burning cigar from his seat, taking a mouthful of smoke. You didn’t mind cigars since you didn’t actually inhale the smoke. Cigarettes, on the other hand-

“(Y/N)?”

At the sound of that thick accent you looked down and saw Arthur standing there with a confused expression. “Arthur!” You gasped with a wide smile and jumped off the wagon onto him.

“Jesus!” He grunted and caught you, laughing in surprise at your excitement. “Been that long, huh?”

“You have no idea.” You sighed and kissed him, finding comfort in his large, warm form.

“I thought that was you I saw with this pretty boy.” He set you on your feet, nodding his head to Thomas in the post office.

You groaned and rolled your eyes. “It’s been the most boring hour of my life. My parents set this whole thing up with the intentions of starting something between us.”

Arthur frowned, looking back into the post office. He looked angry, unreasonably angry. “You wanna get the hell out of here, then?”

“You know I do!”

Arthur whistled for his horse and hoisted you up, taking his sweet time in climbing on. It was like he wanted Thomas to see you run off together.

You rode off, continuing in the direction you were going with Thomas until you were out of Saint Denis. He only stopped when you were deep in the woods, and even then he continued a little more. When he finally came to a halt he basically dragged you off of the horse, pinning you against the nearest tree and smashing his lips against your own.

“Fuck, Arthur!” You gasped against his mouth as he hoisted up your dress and yanked down your small clothes. “What, where-”

“Be quiet.” He breathed and suddenly he was inside you, forcing his cock deep until he couldn’t any more. He let out a long shudder and buried his face in the crook of your neck, kissing and biting your sensitive skin.

You moaned and nuzzled your face into his hair, closing your eyes. “Arthur.” You exhaled and pulled him closer to you. “Oh, Arthur.”

“That feel good?” He grunted and started moving quickly. “Yeah?” He gave a particularly rough thrust and forced a yelp out of you.

“Oh! Yes!” You moaned and threw your head back, your walls clenching around him as your orgasm came out of nowhere. “Fuck!”

Arthur bit down roughly on your neck, hard enough to leave deep red marks that would surely turn into bruises later. He came with three quick thrusts and let out a loud groan, his breath shaky and labored. “God damnit, woman.”

He let you down and you pulled up your clothes with vibrating hands. “Where did that come from?” You stuttered and watched him buckle his belt.

“Just didn’t like the idea of you marrying some rich boy.” He admitted shamelessly. “I swear, one day I’m gonna take you away from there and we won’t have to hide anymore.”

You smiled at the thought. “That would be the day.”

@strawberrymigraines

[meganshinsou-tm]

Could I request a Hawks soulmate au? The s/o works at a convenient/grocery store and one night Hakws come in and s/o has had a terrible night and snaps at Hawks and thats when they find out their soulmates. Maybe like having a mark on their skin or the first words that their soulmate will say to them on their skin. Thanks!

Yo, I had fun with this, I didn’t exactly have the reader ‘snap’ at our bird boy but I hope you still like. uWu

Golden (Soulmate AU)

Pairing: Hawks x Reader

Word Count: 1,715

Warnings/Contents: Profanity, tickle attacks, soulmate au, cute chicken nugget

Soulmate Mark Backstory: When you touch yoursoulmate for the first time a thin gold line with be etched around your wrists.

***

“$8.50 is your total.”

The customer before you smirked and pulled out his wallet, handing you a $10 bill. As you bagged his drink and snacks then got his change the man titled his head, not looking at him you could feel his eyes watching you as if he expected you to look up and ask him something. Once you were done you handed him his bag and change, your eyes finally meeting his face with a tired expression.

“You know I bet you’d be even prettier if you smiled more!”

You made an un-amused face at the customer, eyes rolling at his back-handed compliment. “You know I bet I’d smile more if you weren’t in my store!” You retorted with an over exaggerated fake smile.

The man scoffed and mumbled an incoherent response as he stormed out. Once he was gone you slumped over the counter, placing your face in your hands with a groan. So far the night had been terrible, nothing but annoying men came in and out, trying to flirt and failing miserably. Some tried to make genuine small talk but you just weren’t having it. Your college courses over the week had you drained and not to mention mother nature was in town and had you even more exhausted. All you wanted to do was go home and cuddle up on the couch for days with junk food and tv. But no, you had to work a shitty second job at a convenient store just to make ends meet for now.

It was nearing 11 o’clock at night, it was a weeknight so business was thankfully dying down. You stayed leaned over the counter, one arm outstretched and propping up on the other, watching life outside slowly going on. Sighing you stood and hopped over the counter and walked the candy aisle, picking out one of the bigger bags of Sour Skittles then walking to the ICEE machine and making a huge blue raspberry treat.

As you slurped it down and walked back behind the counter the bell of the door rang, your eyes looked over to see a customer trotting inside with an obnoxious grin. He was a few inches taller than you, with wild ash blonde hair and extremely wacky eyebrows. But his odd eyebrows weren’t the only strange thing about him, no, it was the massive set of bright red wings that sprouted from his back. He was dressed in a dark jacket and light t-shirt with fitted jeans and sneakers. He had to be around the same age as you just from the looks of him.

He looked at you and waved with a smile then made his way around the store. You watched him closely still slurping down the blue cold drink. Leaning back over the counter you opened the skittles. The guy looked familiar and you felt like you’ve seen him somewhere but couldn’t figure it out. He seemed way too happy and energetic for 11 at night, bouncing along the aisles and whistling. Rolling your eyes you sighed and popped a few skittles onto your tongue and stirred the ICEE around with its straw, stealing glances at the customer every now and then.

He was taking an unusually long time, browsing all the candy and chips, examining all the drinks in the coolers. His mannerisms started to become slightly humorous. As he strolled around he’d cup his chin and hum while quirking a brow as if he were in deep thought, his hands picking up snacks to inspect them closely. He grabbed a bag of chips and opened it then started to eat them. You huffed out a short laugh and quickly looked away when he turned to look at you, popping another skittle in your mouth. He smirked and continued his tour.

Your eyes looked at him again, causing your lip to curl. He was kind of cute, like a little chicken clucking around a pen. A giggle escaped as you imagined him making chicken wings with his arms, bending at the knees and pecking at the items on the shelves. He didn’t look at you but he smiled overhearing your giggle. He then stopped dead in his tracks once he found the pre-made single meals. His caramel brown eyes gleaming at the different chicken options. He would reach for one then draw back, shaking his head in shame as he mouthed “no, no, no.” He couldn’t decide on one and was having a legit crisis.

“He’s a cannibal!” you screamed internally, dying slowly from the giggles that were building up and covering your mouth to keep them from spewing.

It was no help though, he could hear your suffering. Smirking his wings then spread out and your eyes widened at the display. One of the feathers flew from them and towards you, you squealed and ducked down onto the floor, eyes screwing shut, this was the day you’d die. “I knew it, this shitty store WILL be the death of me. I’m getting taken out by a chicken feather!” As you sat there for a few seconds, nothing happened. Slowly you peaked open an eye and saw the red feather floating before you, you quirked an eyebrow at it and remained quiet as it then floated closer. Swallowing harshly you leaned back against the counter shelves until there was nowhere left to go, stretching your neck to the side and looking away from the weird feather.

“Ngh,” you grunted as the feather started to literally tickle your neck. You smiled and bit on your lip, trying not to make a peep. Soon more feathers made their way over and behind the counter, floating before you. “Oh no,” you groaned.

All the feathers then went in for the attack and started to tickle all over your body, neck, chin, arms and sides. You squirmed under their soft torturous tips, giggles and full laughs slowly overflowing from your lips. It was so bad, that tears were starting to prick at the corners of your eyes and you pleaded for it to stop. Suddenly, the winged man poked his head over the counter with a smile and chuckled at your distress.

“I could just tell you were DYING to laugh, so I thought I’d help out,” he finally spoke with a prideful grin.

“C-curse you, you chicken nugget! Call them off, please,” you begged between laughs and snorts.

“You snort like a piglet,” the man snapped his fingers and pointed at you, “I’ll call you ‘bacon’ since we’re going off of food-based names!”

You laughed even harder at his ridiculous comment, still squirming and digging your chin into your shoulder to try and shield the ticklish skin. “Oh my god I don’t fucking care, just please make this end!”

The man smiled and you pouted back, shutting your eyes again as one feather tickled your rib-cage. Suddenly it all stopped, your eyes opened and the feathers were gone as if they were never even there. You sighed and fell back against the counter again, panting and trying to catch your breath. The still grinning man reached out a hand to help you up, groaning, you took it. Once your skin connected with each other you felt a sudden searing burn around your wrist, he must’ve felt something too because you both let go at the same time and hissed.

You held your wrist up and looked at it in disbelief as a thin gold ring was now ink around it, you turned to look at the man still leaning over the counter. He was inspecting his wrist as well, still smiling but his smile was even bigger and more obnoxious. His soft and excited eyes looked at you and he pointed at his wrist with the same golden ring, with a comical expression. As badly as you wanted to NOT laugh you couldn’t help it. He was so dorky but so…cute.

You let your head fall back against the hard shelves and dragged your hands down your face, “Oh my god why!!!”

“Aww, come on Bacon, from now on you’re stuck with the #2 hero, it can’t be that bad!”

Your eyes widened at his remark. “That’s who he is! Hawks!” Of all people, fate decided to pair you with Japan’s cockiest and most obnoxious hero. Of course it would, you were cocky and obnoxious yourself, what better combination than that! You started to remember all the news stories and social media posts of your now soulmate. From what you recall he is a legit good hero and has the second spot for a reason. Your eyes then looked up at him, lips pursing. He was cute, and he did happen to make you laugh, even if it was by force. You then smiled as his caramel brown eyes softened, it was a sign that he was going to be trouble with that face but you would be just as much trouble, if not more.

Hawks reached out his hand again, without hesitation this time you took it and he helped you stand to your feet. With a huff, you smirked and thanked him for the help. He then reached out and brushed back a strand of your hair, you didn’t flinch or become bothered by it as he then pinched your rosy cheek softly. “So, do I get your name or shall I keep calling you Bacon?”

“Oh uh - it’s (Y/N).”

Hawks made a ‘thinking’ face then clicked his tongue. “Nah, I’ll stick with Bacon. Now - ,” he continued and motioned his hands at the food he placed on the counter, “since we’re going to be lovers, I get this stuff for free right?”

You scoffed and smiled. “Sorry Chicken Nugget, you still have to pay just like everyone else!”

Hawks groaned and took out his wallet shaking his head, “First day together and you’re already taking my money!”

[goddamnitdazai]

intersect. || TachiChuu

Rarepair week Day 3 - Carrying Home || Contains Manga Spoilers || canon typical violence ||  Death is a texture. Thick like sludge that clings to everything. Death is a consistency of cold, eerie thoughts that rupture in the forefront of a mind succumbing to pain. To sickness. Death is both stagnate and ever changing. It contorts itself in to the life of others who witness it while simultaneously diminishing the light of a soul once burning as forceful as the sun. Death is prudent and strong--but there are cracks and flaws. Immeasurable circumstances that can change with one movement, one different action where death is pushed off for a time being. Chuuya, for most of his life, has been the unstoppable force. Or at least has tried.

In the last year the movements he’d constructed within seconds have strung death up by its heels. It had been coming after those he cared for time and time again and it had the young man grinding his teeth in the throws of war. Endless, it seemed. The madness of it all drew heavy ink-hued bags beneath once bright azure and where he once saw home now laid a reminder of all those he lost. Five towers knocked down to three. Smoke and ash curling among ruins. Memories wrapped in crumpled steel and concrete. 

The Port Mafia and Yokohama were running short on time. People fled, as they did during the last great war, and people remained to fight off the ones who turned their city into a battle zone. Neighboring gangs teaming up under the leadership of one powerful, and rather obnoxious as Chuuya saw him, man with dark eyes and and even darker soul. There were days Chuuya did not rest more than an hour or two before being called on to team up with the city’s strongest ability users currently able to withstand the siege. The hunting dogs. Among their ranks, a man formerly part of what he considered his family and a man he respected, though their interaction remained in situational delegations. Now and again Chuuya had gone on shorter missions accompanied by Tachihara before he betrayed the Port Mafia. He was good with a gun, and Chuuya was good with his legs. Missions that required reconnaissance as much as brute power were done well by the two of them. At first the subordinate seemed nervous around Chuuya and he was unsure if it was his demeanor or his position. Both, Chuuya had assumed but with the events that had unfolded months ago it was heard to decipher what was true. At least that is what Chuuya told himself. Truthfully, he knew the kid wasn’t that great of an actor nor was he that cold. There was sincerity in who Tachihara was while hidden in the Black Lizard. He supposes it doesn’t matter at this point. Tachihara was doing his job to protect the city, and for the time being Chuuya could forget his transgressions for the sake of Yokohama. Hirtosu and Gin were breathing, and truth be told Chuuya related to both the feeling of betrayal and betraying what he could consider...family. A literal knife in Chuuya’s back based on fear and manipulation. Mirrored actions. Parallel paths intersecting on a different timeline. Chuuya huffs at the thought. Understanding Tachihara’s reasoning didn’t excuse his actions, but it made it more difficult at times to hold blame. Chuuya was angry; but could he be? A bullet whizzes past his head directing his attention to the forefront. He smirks. Twisting the bullet back to its original owner with a soft hum. Concrete falling to dust beneath this weighted footsteps red aura glowing through his body. Scent of blood thick in the air, but he’d been around it so long it’d become a familiar perfume. Gunshots ring out. His smirk rises knees bending to shoot him up on top of a pile of bricks next to a decaying parking garage. Bits of what used to be a bookstore and second floor coffee shop leaning down from bombs blowing out the walls. Glass shards rise up coated in fluid garnit piercing the air with a quick whistle that silences the gunfire. He was looking for the leader’s supply route, and from the look of all the semi trucks he’d found it. A second explosion rattles Chuuya’s skeleton before he jumps from rock to rock brought up by the gravitational pull at his fingertips. Avoiding the attempted assassination and only feeling faint warmth from the glowing fire until it buries itself in grey smoke. Chuuya smirks and waits for the second round of gunfire. Heart pumping blood quickly through his veins as bullets surround him, middle finger out and directing the now-ruby glowing bullets in a swirl just to send them right back. In his peripheral he notices metal beams moving quickly past the semi trucks that had been idling suspiciously quiet. Where were the drivers? Apparently, not the men he just killed with their own bullets. He could really use a fucking cigarette right now.

More metal rattles from a pile of wreckage flinging bits into dust covered shadows. Chuuya side steps one with a grunt hands shoved deep in his pockets as he walks towards the four trucks lined in a row trying to place what used to be here. He didn’t spend much time on this side of town unless he was driving by on his bike. A car dealership? Something useless to him. His eyes bounce around the environment taking in each strip of detail, where every particle of dust falls, and the faint sound of labored breathing. Chuuya stops mid-step peering down beneath his foot. Thick crimson pooling near a pile of sharpened metal fragments dug deep into a man’s body. Hunter green and pale blue--the color scheme was tacky and easy to spot. The enemy, despite their destruction, weren’t exactly in the business of protecting their own. Chuuya steps on the man’s chest ending it quickly. Traitor couldn’t even end a life before he moved on to the next, he thinks, jaw locking as he continues forward dust caking his shoe in mottled grey and brown. Mangled framework of a half-finished building peeks through the billowing smoke and dust. Night sky keeping a majority of the street clouded in deep navy, but the dark was nothing out of the ordinary for Chuuya. This much destruction in one swoop was something of a rare occasion and it left a sour taste in his mouth. He shakes the memory from his head; later. When he was alone with a bottle of wine and the job was completed. He could unravel for a moment before picking himself up again. His posture straightens as he kicks a boulder in to a hidden guard aiming for his head. “Oi, you fuckers going to play hide and seek all night or are we going to have a real fight?” He calls into the darkness, smirk rising higher than the sliver of moonlight above. More gunfire, scattered. Thin pops of gold against murky black encapsulating the broken down building making it easier for them to hide. Chuuya didn’t care. He was used to fighting in the dark. He follows the sound, humming. Bullets bouncing off him, cement cracking beneath his feet into a dozen sharp comets careening forward. Blood splatters. Metal shakes. A curled beam split in thin strips begins to vibrate at his ankle and shoots forward completing the end of a few stragglers his rocks didn’t take out completely. At least Tachihara was doing his fucking job. Chuuya ducks beneath one of the tilted beams leaning against a half-crumpled wall of bricks like the entrance to a tent. Smoke thick enough to make him pull his forearm up to block it from entering his lungs. Quietly he steps over rubble and glass shards, bullet casings rolling into the obscurity around him sound echoing louder the deeper he walks. Strips of moonlight casting white over bruised and battered bodies atop a pool of crimson painting the floor. Metal shards sticking out of a few further in. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up--something hits the floor near him hidden in the shadow barely caught by his quick-shifting gaze. Three seconds more and Chuuya would have kicked a crater in Tachihara’s head. “Oi, warn me next time you’re going to sneak up on me!” He grates out, pivoting with his hands shoved back down in his pockets. Blue eyes growing wide at the sight of his former subordinate. Tachihara looked a bit buffer, maybe from training again with the hunting dogs, maybe Chuuya never really paid attention. Blood had begun to streak down his side soaking the white t-shirt and familiar jacket. Strange how he’d changed from his outfit. Confuse the enemy, keep his secret identity hidden from foreign organizations..it didn’t matter. Chuuya’s jaw locks as he kneels down on the balls of his feet to asses. “You okay?” He asks voice a touch softer than before. Tachihara looks up at him blood caked on the right side of his head cascading down in thick dribbles over his cheek and chin. Shoulder speckled with the same deep red. “Yeah boss, asshole clipped my side and I fell.” He half-smiles and tries to push himself up to his knees only to fall again hand barely catching his weight. Chuuya’s brow arches. Boss? “Is Hirotsu okay?” Tachihara asks through gritted teeth. “Old man hasn’t been here all night. Shouldn’t he be helping or is it his bed time?” Despite the apparent pain Tachihara’s voice remains teasing, the way Chuuya remembered. Gruff, deep, a street tone Chuuya recognized in himself but airy in a way when he was around those he trusted. “Hirotsu…” shit, his head. Chuuya stares at him for a few moments running through different scenarios that could play out. Mori would want the information, but if he didn’t remember he was fucking useless as a captive. He wouldn’t even know he was captive. Chuuya rubs his palm down his face. “He’s fine. Hanging back letting us young ones do all the fuckin’ work.” Chuuya couldn’t let him die. For a myriad of reasons that would send the mafia in hot water, and..he couldn’t let him fucking die. Traitor or not. Traitor. That fucking word made Chuuya’s mouth feel dirty. And yet here they both were, perfectly described with that adjective. The only difference being time. Which meant what? It didn’t lessen the levels, the dishonesty and lies for personal gain. What happened because of his inability to lead. Tachihara showed himself as he was, there was little doubt in Chuuya’s mind the smoke and mirrors were just enough to infiltrate. Personal gain. Only reason to join a brigade like that; he wasn’t a mastermind like Jouno or a diehard believer...--but what drove him? Chuuya swears he feels something press into his back, the scar left long ago. Cold. His spine tingles. Tachihara’s face pales, sweat beginning to bead beneath his forehead and soak the front of his shirt. “C-c-chuuya-san...think..we can save the rest for the old man? Should pull his damn weight yeah?” That fucking half-smile, the one that tries to hide how deep his wounds were. His pain. “I suppose it’s only fair.” Chuuya states, extending his arms to scoop Tachihara up with ease. Kid was light as hell. “Oi, how do you weigh so little with all that muscle?” “I---you’re strong” He half bows to Chuuya in embarrassment, but the angle merely leads to Tachihara bumping the good side of his head against Chuuya’s chin. The older man grunts, eyes focused on what was in front of him. Feet moving fluidly through the wreckage; drop off point. The government had made one and he didn’t really give a fuck about being told to stay off the perimeter. Tachihara slumps against Chuuya’s chest causing Chuuya’s eyes to flit down in a panic that sends his heart to his throat. “Stay awake, Tachihara. It’s an order.” Chuuya commands in a tone the younger should recognize, and the reply of a simple nod is enough. The walk wouldn’t be too long, and from the quiet ahead there wouldn’t be much to stop them. Shadows pave their way winding through buildings and alleys. Yokohama drifting in to the one of the very few tranquil moments. Out of habit Chuuya begins to hum to himself. Filling the silence, and from what a few of them had said long ago… the reminder of someone else being there was comforting when everything else was uncertain and death loomed close. Chuuya tightens his grip on Tachihara, humming a bit louder as night begins to fall away to dawn.

[missmarquin]

Magnetic, Ch. 4

In the future, romantic attraction is literal: each person is fitted with an electromagnetic bracelet which will pull you to your soulmate. It's hard, wondering who's out there for you. It's harder yet, when you have to come to understand yourself first.

CONTENT WARNING: Smut.

Read here on Ao3, where it’s formatted better!

Polarization

‘Polarization density also describes how a material responds to an applied electric field as well as the way the material changes the electric field, and can be used to calculate the forces that result from those interactions.’

….

This wasn’t how this was supposed to go, Otabek thought.

He’d finally made a choice. He’d finally grown a pair and hopped a plane to Moscow last minute. He’d finally tell Yuri that he loved him, and that he was stupid, and that he’d waited too fucking long to do this.

And then you know, he’d sweep him off his feet, finally kiss him and-- Well, Yuri was supposed to respond positively, because that was the dream, right? It wasn’t like you could deny the destiny bracelets, or whatever.

Otabek realized just how stupid he was, the moment that Yuri slapped on his bracelet, feeling the pull that tugged between them. The look of surprise and utter betrayal that flashed across his face.

Currently, Yuri was stomping around the kitchen, muttering angrily under his breath. Setting about a kettle of water for tea. Otabek watched from his seat at the kitchen table, one leg folded across the other, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck nervously.

Yuri bothered, because Otabek was the one that liked tea. Maybe that meant something. That thought wavered the moment Yuri slammed the pot onto the burner, turning to him suddenly.

“You lied,” he hissed. “How could you--” he started, but then paused, closing his eyes and rubbing at them. Then he let out a frustrated grunt.

“Yura--”

“Are you telling me that yours has been active since mine was turned on?”

Otabek swallowed thickly. “I-- uh… yes.” And Yuri just blinked at him, waiting for him to explain further. Otabek sighed. “I wasn’t expecting it,” he said quietly. “So when it did, I just kind of freaked--”

“Is the idea of being with me so terrible?” Yuri suddenly asked. His voice was about as small as Otabek suddenly felt. Couldn’t Yuri see-- didn’t Yuri know--

Well, probably not, Otabek reasoned. Yuri was incredibly bright, but tended to overlook things quite easily. “Yura,” Otabek said, standing up from the chair, going to him. “How could you possibly think that?”

“Well I--” Yuri started, the answer clearly rehearsed, but then he paused. “Wait, what--”

But Otabek was already pressing a hand against his cheek, his fingers tightened and pulling Yuri down to him. Yuri let out a cry of protest, his hands grabbing at Otabek’s arms to try and stop. Yuri might have had him in height, but Otabek was stockier. He pulled Yuri’s face to his, pressing their lips together.

And just as he expected, Yuri pulled away, pushing at him. Otabek refused to let go of his face though, his fingers still cradling his jaw firmly. “Yura,” he said, “It’s okay--”

“This has got to be a fucking joke,” Yuri said. Otabek could see the tears welling up in his eyes and oh no, Yuri was the world’s ugliest cryer, he didn’t want to see--  “I mean you couldn’t possibly-- you’re making fun of--”

“It’s okay,” Otabek interjected. Yuri snapped his mouth shut, his fingers still gripping his shirt tightly. Otabek rubbed his thumb along his jawline gently, trying to reassure him. “Yura, it’s okay,” he repeated.

“But… but Amita,” Yuri whispered, like uttering her name would somehow change things between them. Like her name somehow meant something, in that moment.

“I think that we both know she isn’t you,” Otabek replied.

“What the fuck does that mean? Beka, you were going to marry her.”

“You know better than anyone how my family is,” Otabek said quietly. “You know, Yura, how I didn’t want to leave. And when they arranged our marriage, how I couldn’t say no. And how--”

“Are you implying that you’ve liked me for what-- years?” Yuri shook his head, disbelieving.

Otabek only sighed softly, pulling his hands away from his face. “What was I to do? My parents have done everything for me,” he said sadly.

Yuri was about to say something when the kettle went off, the shrill whistle cutting through the air. Yuri wiggled out from Otabek’s grasp to pull it from the stove. Otabek watched as he poured the water into a cup, then as he placed the kettle down and wiggled around the tea bag. And then Yuri just stood there, staring at the counter, thinking.

Otabek didn’t like it when Yuri thought. Yuri was dangerous, when he thought. “You know, it’s not fucking fair,” Yuri finally said, letting out a bitter laugh. “I’ve loved you since I was like fourteen, but I’ve always thrown it to the side, because I’ve thought that you would never--” He stopped abruptly, his hands gripping the countertop so tightly that his fingertips turned white.

“But now you’re telling me that that wasn’t the case,” he finished with.

“For what it’s worth,” Otabek said, “I didn’t know until I left.” At that, Yuri turned around, giving him this look and Otabek couldn’t hide the wince that crossed his face. “You were a teenager, when I left,” he huffed. “We were teenagers. I was seventeen, and it was weird okay? I didn’t want to put a label on anything, but then I went back home to Almaty and everything just kind of…”

“Kind of what?” Yuri couldn’t hide the snark in his tone.

“It just lost its color. It was like my world was suddenly gray and the only thing that would have fixed it, was if you were there.” Well, that had sounded better in his head, but Otabek was too far into his monologue to stop. “Because I… well, you know. Love you, and all that.” It wasn’t the most articulate love confession, but it was very Otabek at least.

“Oh.” Yuri sounded like the wind had been knocked out of him. That was a good sign. Yuri slipped his fingers into the handle of the mug and brought it to Otabek, before plopping into a chair at the table. Otabek followed suit.

“But Amita…” Yuri started again, before trailing off.

“She knew.” Otabek’s voice was so quiet, that he wasn’t sure that Yuri had even heard him at first. He cleared his throat and then continued with, “I mean, she uh-- I wasn’t able to really hide it from her, I guess. We had an understanding.”

“You faked it pretty fucking well,” Yuri said.

“It wasn’t… fake,” Otabek’s tone was careful. “We loved each other, but we weren’t in love with each other. If that makes sense. I was still trying to sort things out though, so I was just happy that we worked.”

“But then…” Yuri motioned to his bracelet. Otabek twisted it nervously. The tug was softened to a dull hum, probably because they had found each other. “And then hers…”

“She was the one that broke it off.” Yuri knew that, but his face was unreadable. “But not because of the reason you would think.”

“She did it because of how you felt, didn’t she?” Yuri asked quietly.

Otabek thumbed at his mug for a long moment, before taking a sip. “It’s pretty pathetic when your fiancee tells you to go after someone else. Especially when it’s a man.”

“Otabek, I--” But Yuri paused, biting his lip. He looked so young like that. So young and unsure, and like he was about to burst at the seams. “I’m not actually angry at you.”

“I know you aren't’. If anything, I’m angry at myself.” Otabek sighed as he said it. “I shouldn’t have hid this from you.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” Yuri agreed, a slight frown tugging at his lips.

“But try to see it from my view.” Yuri looked at him, listening. “I had spent years bottling this shit up, and then yours is activated and-- I mean, suddenly everything I wanted was right there, you know? I had just come to terms with being myself.”

“Yeah, sorry that I fucked that up for you,” Yuri said sarcastically, his eyes narrowing.

“That’s not what I meant--”

“Yeah, yeah, you went and found yourself. And then everything went to hell.”

“Yura, it hasn’t gone to hell--”

“Why are you even here?” Yuri finally asked, crossing his arms over his chest. It was an honest question, his tone carefully calculated.

And Otabek knew that this one answer would be it. His mouth was as dry as the steppes that he’d ridden his motorcycle through. His next words would either make them or break them, and the latter was just not a feasible option.

“Because a life without you, isn’t a life at all,” Otabek said after a long moment of reflection.

Yuri blinked, and then blinked again. And his face turned red, his cheeks splotched and ruddy as his next words sputtered. “Jesus fucking christ Beka, you can’t just say shit like that.”

“What is it that you want me to say?” Otabek asked, trying his best to keep a pleading look off of his face.

“Say it again.” Yuri’s voice was quiet, wavering just slightly, like he was afraid that Otabek would somehow change his mind. That he’d realize that this was a mistake or something, like he was afraid. “Say it again, and say it properly.”

Otabek suddenly realized what exactly it was the Yuri wanted. He wanted reassurance. He wanted Otabek to show him that this wasn’t some joke, that he wasn’t playing him. Otabek  pulled himself from the chair and dropped to his knees before Yuri.

“I love you, Yuri,” he said. His hands found Yuri’s knees, squeezing gently, playing with the fabric of his pants. “I’m pretty late to the game, but I’ve always loved you.”

Yuri regarded him for a long moment, and then he said, “Get off the fucking floor, you fool.” Then he stood, holding his hand out and helped Otabek up. Yuri didn’t let go though, holding his hand tightly, rubbing his thumb across the back of Otabek’s hand.

“You know,” he said, “I’ve imagined this scenario a thousand different ways over the years. I never would have thought it’d end with you on your knees for me.”

Otabek could think of other things that he’d rather do while on his knees in front of Yuri, but he forced a crooked smile across his face. Reaching up, he ran his thumb across his cheek, rubbing away the moisture there. Yuri wasn’t crying, but a few tears had slipped free.

“You’ve always responded positively to worship,” Otabek teased.

“Oh? Is that what you were doing? Worshipping me?”

“There are far better ways, I’d rather worship you with, especially if I’m on my knees.” The words slipped from Otabek’s mouth before he could stop them, and Yuri turned bright red, the intent not lost on him.

“You’re an absolute moron.”

“Yes,” Otabek agreed.

“But you’re my moron.”

“Always,” was Otabek’s reply.

“And you’re sure that Amita is okay with this?”

“Amita lives in the United States, married to another man. She has no standing.” Otabek was teasing, of course, but it didn’t stop him from reaching out and brushing some of Yuri’s hair behind his ear. Anything to offer some modicum of comfort, really.

“Let’s go to sleep,” Yuri finally said, stopping Otabek in his tracks. “I’m tired, you’re tired, it’s been a long day. I’m fucking exhausted and this is a lot to take in.”

Otabek dropped his hand sheepishly. Yeah, rest, that was a good idea. There was plenty of time to talk about this. “I’ll take the couch--”

“Absolutely not,” Yuri said. He’d already pulled away and grabbed the mug. He frowned at Otabek, as he poured the tea down the sink. “Bed’s big enough for both of us.”

Otabek swallowed thickly. “Right,” he managed weakly.

“It’ll be like old times.”

Otabake closed his eyes, dragging a hand down his face. “Yura, it’ll be nothing like old times,” he finally said. And he looked back to Yuri, he found the man smirking back at him with amusement. He’d been teasing him!

“Yeah, you’re right. It’ll be like new times,” Yuri said, walking over to Otabek who hummed lightly in response. Yuri grabbed at his hand, yanking him toward the room. He could practically feel the blood roaring in his veins.

But it was a good roar, and it felt like Yuri was leading them to their future.

…

Yuri couldn’t sleep.

This occurrence wasn’t so uncommon, really. A lot of the time he couldn’t sleep-- be it the sore muscles, his aching back, or late-night thoughts of what his life was and could be. But this time, the source of his insomnia was sleeping next to him, snoring gently.

It shouldn’t be awkward. Yuri and Otabek had shared a bed tons of times before. Of course, it’d been a few years, but shit shouldn’t change, right? Except that it had, and Yuri couldn’t stop thinking about it. So, he sat on the edge of the mattress, wringing his fingers slightly.

It was weird, how you could want something and expect to never have it, but the moment that you could, shit get weird. Yuri had waited his entire life, to be able to tell Otabek how he’d felt, and that was good. He was glad.

Now came the added complication of Otabek loving him back.

Which, shouldn’t even be a complication, right?

Yuri jumped slightly when he felt a warm hand press against his shoulder. The mattress sunk under Otabek’s weight as he shifted. “Yura?” he murmured sleepily, pressing his forehead against his shoulder. Still half asleep then, Yuri surmised. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m just thinking.”

“You never think,” Otabek said. He shifted again, moving to swing his legs over the side and sit next to Yuri properly. “You always do. What’s bothering you?”

“I love you,” Yuri answered, and he saw Otabek’s frown in the moonlight that filtered in through the window.

“Yeah, I know,” Otabek replied. His hand swept down Yuri’s shoulder and then arm in a comforting gesture.

“Do you though? I don’t mean in a ‘yeah I’ve kind of liked you for awhile’ way. I mean in a ‘my heart literally stops at the sight of you’ way.” Yuri couldn’t help the way that his voice cracked slightly. “It’s one thing for you to say that you love me too, but is it on the same level?”

“Are you serious?” Otabek breathed. Yuri frowned; Otabek’s tone was caught between amusement and breathlessness. The older man couldn’t help the chuckle that bubbled up from his throat and for a moment, Yuri’s heart clenched that same fear from earlier. The fear that this was some massive and utter joke, that Otabek was just stringing him along until he got tired of it, because there was no way that he’d feel the same about him and--

Otabek’s weight shifted again until he was kneeling in front of Yuri. His hands slid up to gently grab his face and Yuri couldn’t help but lean in. He was taller, this position slightly awkward, but--

“How could you possibly think that, Yura?” Otabek asked, his thumb ghosting across Yuri’s cheek lightly. “How could you even entertain that my feelings aren’t the same? For years, you’re all I’ve ever thought about. Fuck, the woman I was going to marry left me because of my feelings for you.”

Yuri swallowed over the lump in his throat. “Beka, I--”

“I realized it too late,” Otabek said, leaning upwards, pulling at Yuri slightly. “But I’m here now, Yura. I’m here now, and I’m not going away. I love you--”

“Would you just kiss me already?” Yuri snapped in a harsh whisper.

Otabek immediately complied, rising up to press their mouths together. This wasn’t like the soft peck earlier in the kitchen, innocent and chaste, the one that Yuri had pulled away from. This was full of longing, Otabek gripping his jawline firmly as his other hand slid around his waist, pulling Yuri closer to the edge of the bed.

Yuri didn’t pull away from him this time. He pulled him closer, like he was trying to lose himself in Otabek. His lips were soft and chapped, but they felt better than anyone else. And he’d kissed a lot of people in his life. Otabek’s hand moved from his jaw to the back of his head, grasping gently as he changed their angle, running his tongue along the seam of Yuri’s mouth.

Yuri gasped, his lips falling open. Otabek licked into him, and Yuri moaned, and it seemed like all of his blood rushed south. He’d dreamed of this, imagined this in so many different scenarios, but the reality was so much better than he could have ever wished. Yuri responded in kind, his hands reaching up for Otabek’s face, caressing the skin there. Then they flitted over his hair, gripping lightly as he kissed back.

Otabek yanked at his hips, pulling him nearly off the edge of the bed to press their hips together and Yuri panicked momentarily because--

Otabek paused, pulling back. “Yura,” he breathed, the moment hanging between them.

Yuri swallowed, wanting to crawl into the bed and die. It was stupid, how hard he was, so quickly. It was hot, too hot, the room was suddenly sweltering and his pants tented and too tight because he didn’t wear proper underwear to bed. Otabek was there, his eyes dropping to his lap and then back up.

“Yura,” he repeated, looking like a starving man in a desert, his eyes half-lidded with lust and--

Jesus fucking christ. Otabek had palmed him through his pants, the thin material in the way, but no enough to make the touch anything but phenomenal. “Is this okay?” Otabek asked, and Yuri practically whined, moving to grip his hand to keep it there.

“Okay?” Yuri snapped. “You’re asking me if this is okay-- you’re such a moron.” He canted his hips upward. “Obviously.” He moved to pull Otabek’s face back up to his, but the other man pulled away, leaning back on his heels.

He a hand down Yuri’s side until it paused at the waistband of his pajama pants, thumbing the fabric there. The other was still cupped around his hardness, not squeezing but there, just holding him. And if Otabek didn’t fucking do something, Yuri was going to literally combust.

“Beka,” he started, but almost immediately lost his words when Otabek gave him a rough squeeze and let go.

“Yura, what do you want?” It was a sincere question. Not one uttered in sultry tone, during the heat of the moment. It was an honest question, with Otabek peering back at him like he was afraid that Yuri would say no. As if.

“Beka, please,” he pleaded, lifting his hips slightly. Otabek hesitated before helping him slip the pants off. The cool air was like a balm on his hardened length, but then he saw the look on Otabek’s face. Like he was drowning in the sight of him, his lips parted slightly as his hands gripped Yuri’s thighs tightly.

“I don’t get on my knees for just anyone,” Otabek said quietly, and Yuri felt his voice hitch and his heart skip a beat. “I would never do this for anyone but you, Yura.”

Yuri practically yelped at the feeling of Otabek licking up his length, before wrapping his hand around the base. His grip seemed unsure, hesitant, as he tried several different applications of pressure. And then it clicked, what Otabek had meant.

Of course he’d never do this to anyone else, he never had. Yuri would be the first and only, and suddenly his heart swelled slightly at the idea. He reached down, wrapping his hand around Otabek’s, as he said, “Like this, Beka.” Not to tight, but firm, showing him how to pull the foreskin down.

Otabek’s head dipped again, and Yuri felt wet heat engulf the tip of his cock. He hissed at the sensation, his other hand slipping down to sink into the soft curls on Otabek’s head. He usually slicked his hair back, but Yuri liked it like this-- wild and unruly, coiling around his forehead.

Otabek’s tongue swirled around his head and Yuri groaned, barely stopping his hips from bucking upwards. The other man hummed, slipping for of his length inside his mouth, sucking gently and--

Fuck, Yuri was already close, he was already so close and it wasn’t fair. He wanted this to last forever, he wanted this to never end. His fingers pulled at Otabek’s hair tightly, as the other man pulled back, only to dip down again, twisting his hand around the base slightly.

Otabek wasn’t even undressed, and Yuri was reduced to a mess next to him. From the heat of his mouth, to the heat of his gaze he just-- And then Otabek looked up at him, his lips stretched around his cock, his eyes half-lidded and pupils blown wide underneath his long eyelashes. Yuri gasped at the sight, at the pull of his hand, at the way his tongue slid along the underside of his length.

Yuri remembered the first blow job he’d ever given, and it wasn’t like this. It had been awkward and terrible, and his experienced partner hadn’t been patient with him. Otabek was different though. Otabek didn’t even seem to be trying, running on instinct. Perhaps this is what made the difference, this overwhelming feeling of love. Yuri bucked his hips slightly, unable to stop and Otabek groaned around him, and it wasn’t fucking fair how good this was.

“Beka,” he hissed. “I’m so close--” he tried to warn, his grip on Otabek’s hair tightening. The other man doubled down on his efforts, sucking harder, pressing faster. Swallowing him as deep as he could without choking before pulling off. He kissed the tip, sliding his hand up and down, before swallowing him again.

Yuri felt the telltale tightening in his gut, and he crashed over the edge almost immediately, his hips jerking slightly towards Otabek. Otabek moaned around him, swallowing without a thought, and Yuri couldn’t think of anything hotter, he decided.

He hissed at the last lick that Otabek gave him, before pulling off, his lips tracing around his lips as he--

“Fuck,” Yuri groaned, falling back to the mattress in a melted heap. He could feel it, spent all the way down to his bones. The bed sagged under Otabek as he climbed back in, leaning against the headboard, and pulling Yuri’s head into his lap.

Yuri shifted from his grasp though,  straddling his hips with ease. Otabek’s hands found his hips quickly, squeezing, thumbing the soft skin there. His face so full of love, that Yuri wanted to paint a picture of it forever. Otabek only proved that he could still wreck him; that he could wreck him over and over again.

Yuri’s hand reached up, slipping just under his shirt, ghosting over the hard muscles he found there. “You’re over dressed,” he said, pulling the fabric up. Otabek helped him ease off the shirt.

“You’re still in your shirt,” he countered, but Yuri hushed him. His hand slipped across his skin, his fingers running along his collarbone and across his chest. Over a nipple, teasing it slightly, and Otabek shifted his hips under him, his hands tightening their hold.

Yuri hummed at that, a small smile crossing his features.  “Did you ever sleep with Amita?” It was a question with an answer that didn’t really mean anything, but curiosity poked at him.

And judging by the look on Otabek’s face, the other man didn’t like the thought of it, or him asking. “Yura, that’s not--”

“I’m only curious,” Yuri interrupted. “I mean, she’d be fucking stupid to ignore this,” he said, settling his hips closer, slotting them together to where he could feel the hardness underneath him. More impressive than he would have thought, and honestly his mouth watered with want.

“Yes,” Otabek groaned, and Yuri paused. “What I mean-- er-- Amita.” Yuri liked the fact that such a simple movement could render him literally speechless. “It wasn’t like this, though,” Otabek continued with. “I couldn’t be--”

“Damn right,” Yuri said, leaning closer to him, his face only a hair's breadth away.  “She wasn’t me, right?”

“Yura,” Otabek sighed, and he closed the small gap between them, kissing him again. One of his hands slid down Otabek’s abs, dragging his nails across the spattering of hair underneath his bellybutton. And then southward, hesitating at the edge of his pants.

Otabek let out a frustrated grunt, and Yuri practically swallowed it, his tongue snaking out across his lips. And then he pulled back, pressing their foreheads together. “Are you okay with this?” he breathed, his hand cupping Otabek’s length through the fabric of his pants.

“Fuck,” Otabek replied.

“Not yet,” Yuri laughed. But Otabek was already lifting his hips, his hands scrambling to pull down his pants before Yuri could protest. And it wasn’t that Yuri didn’t want to, oh he so did. But he wanted to take his time, he wanted to pick Otabek apart and put him back together. And really, they had all the time in the world.

He shifted his hips back slightly, looking down between them, where Otabek stood at attention. Yuri had seen his fair share of dicks, but this one was perfection. Thick and cut, dark like his tanned skin and already weeping at the tip. Otabek took Yuri’s staring as hesitation, already ready to put a halt to this and--

Yuri wrapped his hand around him tightly, using his thumb to spread the slickness that had already gathered there. Otabek threw his head back so fast that he cracked it against the headboard. Yuri paused to look at him, but the other man didn’t seem to even care, his gaze trained on his hand and what it was doing.

Yuri let go for a moment, licking at his hand, before gripping him again. This time the slide of his hand was slicker, easier, and he twisted his palm over the head of Otabek’s cock lightly. The legs under him tensed slightly, and he could hear Otabek’s ragged breathing. Like he was barely holding on.

“Yura, that isn’t-- I’m-- It’s not fair,” he whined, and Yuri smirked.

“It’s not a contest,” he cooed, “There’s no prize for lasting long.” His hand tugged once, twice more, and then the other went to cup his balls. Otabek bucked his hips into his hand, and with one more twist of Yuri’s hand, he jerked slightly, coming all over his fingers.

Yuri couldn’t help but feel smug about that, he supposed, because the entire thing had lasted maybe two minutes. And it didn’t matter, because it was good, it had been so good.

Otabek shifted, pulling Yuri towards him for another kiss, this one sweet and quick. Yuri grabbed at his shirt, wiping at Otabek-- much to his protest-- before settling into his side. Resting his head against his chest, not caring that the both of them sweaty and tired and in need of a shower.

Otabek’s hand found his scalp, pressing against it gently. Yuri hummed lightly, sinking into the feeling of his fingers carding through the silky strands of his hair. This wasn’t new, they’d done this in years past-- but Yuri had never realized just how much he had missed it. Missed this closeness. Craved it.

“I wonder what Grandpa will say,” Yuri muttered, a silly thought.

“Yura, can we not talk about him right now?” Otabek’s chest rumbled with his words, underneath Yuri’s cheek.

“He’d be relieved,” Yuri continued, not caring for the other man’s request. “He always thought you were a good one.” When Otabek didn’t respond, Yuri pulled away slightly, glancing up at him. “It was hard for you, huh? With your parents and everything.”

Otabek’s hand paused in his hair. “You have no idea,” he said quietly. “I was so determined to make them happy.”

“I know they’re devout and all--”

“Yura--”

“But, if God was so against something like this, then why do we exist?” The question tumbled out of his mouth with hushed urgency. “Isn’t he the one who made us for each other?” Yuri wasn’t religious, and Otabek barely was, but tradition was as thick as blood was, where he came from. “I mean, you aren’t planning on just leaving--”

“I already promised you, I’m not going anywhere,” Otabek said, hushing him.

“But you’ll have to go home,” Yuri said, as it suddenly sunk in. Otabek might have shown up on his doorstep, but he wasn’t from there.

“I would think it’s obvious,” Otabek huffed. “My home is wherever you are, Yura.”

It was such a cheesy line, that Yuri couldn’t help but chuckle. “What a fucking sap.”

“Yes, but I’m your sap.” The words mirrored his from earlier, where he proclaimed that he was Yuri’s moron. Which led to the memory of Otabek before him, proclaiming that he’d be the only one he’d ever get on his knees for. Yuri’s legs were still jelly at that particular display.

“You sure know how to make someone happy,” Yuri sighed, content.

“And are you?”

“Obviously.” Otabek let out a breath of relief as Yuri pulled away from him, making an excuse about setting his phone alarm for the morning.

Yuri [2:13AM]: Your advice was fucking prophetic, Katsudon.

Yuri [2:13AM]: Otabek showed up on my doorstep tonight.

Katsudon [2:14AM]: Otabek?

Katsudon [2:14AM]: Wait, why would Otabek…? Katsudon [2:15AM]: WAIT.

Yuri smiled, imagining Yuuri’s face, as he realized exactly what he meant.

Katsudon [2:16AM]: Is this… are you good?

Yuri had been typing a reply, when Otabek muttered something tiredly. “I know it’s about four years to late, but I love you, Yura.”

Yuri’s toes curled at the words.

Yuri [2:18AM]: Yeah, everything is fucking perfect.