#I also read the summary of kids on the slope and it looks interesting | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kyber-kisses · 4 years

Text

Southern Nights

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: cursing, angst, sad!boi dean hours, very slight canon divergence.

Summary: When the British men of letters start killing American hunters, Dean panics for the readers safety.

A/n: had this idea tumbling around in my head for awhile and finally decided to write it. Hope y’all enjoy and feedback is greatly appreciated! (I also based this off of Flower Power by Greta Van Fleet so go and give it a listen!)

Things had not being going smoothly to say the least. Not smoothly at all.

Taking a deep breath Dean rested his body weight against the drivers side door of Baby, hands shoved deep into his pockets as he waited for Sam to finish up his phone calls. Thirty minutes ago they had walked out of the morgue from seeing Eileen's body and now apparently their mother was missing.

“Are you done yet?” Dean sighed, holding up his wrist to check his watch impatiently. The only answer he got from Sam was a finger being held up, telling him to give him another minute.

Another groan and Dean was letting his head fall back against the roof of the car. A minute later he heard Sam saying his goodbyes followed by a click and he was lifting his head up again.

“Well?”

“So, yeah- I’ve finished calling around about all the hunters who’ve died in the past few weeks. And um-“

“And um what?”

“They’ve all had years of experience. If this really is the British men of letters, I think their trying to wipe out American hunters.” Sam explained, watching Deans face for a reaction. The older Winchester pinched the bridge of his nose,eyes squeezed shut, no doubt frustrated with the whole situation.

“Oh well that’s just fan-freakin-tastic.”

Another few seconds past and then Deans eyes snapped back open, Jade irises now wide as he pushed himself away from the car.

“Shit, Y/N.”

Immediately understanding where Deans mind was going, Sam was already rounding the side of the vehicle to get to the passenger door. “When was the last time you talked to her?”

“I don’t know, four weeks ago- maybe five?” Dean spoke quickly, yanking open his own door and quickly sliding in, keys already in the ignition. “Try calling her. We need to make sure she’s alright.”

Tapping furiously at his screen, Sam nodded as he pressed the device to his ear. “Already on it.”

Dean was back on the road and driving before he even had a destination, his eyes darting between the asphalt and Sam as he waited for an answer.

“Anything?”

Shaking his head, Sam pulled the phone a away from his ear, flinching when Dean let out a string of curses. “Damn it, here-“ taking a hand off the wheel he fished his own phone out, tossing it across the seat towards his brother. “Try mine.”

The hunter waited in agonizing silence for another minute or so before Sam shook his head once more. “Nothing again.”

It took everything in Dean not to hit his head against the steering wheel in frustration in that moment. He needed to know that you were safe. That you were still alive and well. “Fuck- okay. Um, try calling Jody. She might know where she is.”

You and Dean were complicated to say the least. The two of you had crossed paths and become friends a lifetime ago and nothing had ever been the same since. It was easy to see by anyone that You and Dean had feelings for each other, but even after years of friendship neither of you had ever truly acted on it. Sure there were the knowing glances and smiles, and the occasional instance where the two of you found your fingers tangled together, but that was it. No more. No less. Probably because internally you both knew that this life wasn’t made for romance.

But that didn’t stop Dean from loving you. Not at all.

Dean focused his eyes back on the paint strips in the center of the road, trying to ease himself. It wasn't unusual for you to go radio silent for weeks on end. You had a busy schedule, never quite standing still enough to catch a breath before rushing off on another case, but with everything happening, Dean was worried.

Dean considered you to be a wild, energetic type. You were the type that loved diving head first into anything you found interesting. Sometimes you decided to learn a new language just for the hell of it or pick up a random hobby like archery. There was something about moving that you had always loved. You were drawn towards instability the way magma's drawn through cracks in the earth. Even when you were younger, you had had a quality that sucked people in, made people flock to you as if you were some emissary from the land of glamour. (Dean knew that truth though, you like most hunters came from a shrinky dink town in the middle of nowhere USA. . . The farthest thing from glamour.) Dean remembered when they had first found the bunker and offered you to stay with them. You had hissed a little through your teeth, before politely declining. Sure, you stopped in every once in awhile and stayed a week or two but never longer.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean watched as Sam talked softly to Jody on the phone, his brother letting out light hums and nods as he jotted some stuff down on the back of an old fast food napkin. A moment later he was thanking the sheriff and hanging up.

“She got anything?”

“Kind of. She says she hasn’t heard from her in a few weeks either, but last time she checked Y/N was hunkered down in some place outside of Fairhope, Alabama. She had been working a rugaru case but that was the last she heard of her.” Sam explained with a light shrug.

“Okay, alright.” Dean nodded, glancing back over at his brother. “What do you have written down?”

“An address. Jody said if we go looking for her to start here. She thinks this is where she was staying.”

Leaning slightly over, he read the messy scribbles on the napkin before nodding and looking at the clock. “Alright, if I gun I think I can get us there by evening tomorrow.”

His brother gave him a solid nod before plugging the coordinates into his phones GPS, and giving him the first set of directions. The only thoughts running the older Winchesters head being please be alive. You need to be alive. Because if the British men of letters found you and did something to you, he would never forgive himself.

*. *. *. *. *. *. *.

Dean managed to hit it spot on because a day and a half later he and Sam were quickly lurching to a stop at the end of an old dirt driveway as dusk began to settle. The sky turning to a deep shade of blue as the sun went down, taking the dusty pinks and oranges of the sunset with it. The first fireflies could be seen through the trees, and Just beyond the house, the grass sloped down to the calm waters of the Mobile bay.

The tires crunched loudly against the gravel before Dean slammed the breaks and threw the impala into park, practically vaulting out of the vehicle at the sight of your car.

“Y/N!”

For the past several hours fear had begun its agonizing and chilling climb up Deans spine and now that he was finally at the end of the GPS route he was terrified of what he might find.

No answer.

Dean was frantic as he and Sam bolted up the steps of the massive front porch, throwing open the old screen door probably with enough force that it should have been pulled from its hinges. “Y/N, Dammit!”

luckily the open layout of the house was easy to navigate and Dean quickly found no signs of forced entry or a struggle. All your stuff was still here though, he recognized your backpack and laptop along with one of your canvas jackets.

That’s when he saw the flicker of firelight just beyond the window, music seeping through a partially open one. Quickly pushing past Sam he kicked open the back door and rushed out.

unfortunately the sound scared the hell out of you and you were falling out of your hammock, hand flying to your chest as if to stave off a heart attack.

“What the fuck?!’

“Y/N!” Instant relief rushed over Dean at the sight of you unscathed before him, sitting startled in the grass, the firelight from the pit giving you a sort of glow. . . but that feeling was quickly ripped away and replaced by anger as he clenched his jaw and walked closer. “What the hell Y/N?! You ever heard of picking up a damn phone?!”

On top of being startled to death you now had to add confusion, your eyebrows raising as you pushed yourself off the ground and crossed your arms, watching as the elder brother stormed across the grass, Sam slowly following behind.

“Excuse me?”

“Both Sam and I have been trying to call you! The least you could do is call us back if you don’t pick up originally!”

Holding a hand up in defense you stared down the jade eyed hunter. As surprised as you were to see him, you were beyond confused at his rage. “Woah, calm the fuck down. What the hell crawled up your ass?”

“Do you have any idea what’s been going on these past few days?!”

You gave him one of your famous are you kidding me looks before moving down a step. “I’m sitting in a hammock and drinking, Dean. Does it look like I fuckin know?”

“I was afraid you were dead!”

“Well clearly-“ you gestured time yourself. “I am not, now you mind calming down and telling me what’s going on and how the hell you found me?”

Deans jaw clenched before he sharply inhaled through his nose, whipping around to look at his brother as if saying “can you believe this woman?” As much as he loved you, you could be infuriating at times.

“Only if you tell me why the hell your playing house in some small ass southern town!”

“Fine, fine.”you nodded, raising your hands in defeat. A moment passed before Dean let his shoulders fall and walked closer, only to sink down onto one of the wooden seats of the picinic table, Sam close behind. Leaning against the trunk of the tree besides you, you let an uncomfortable silence fall between you and Dean as he looked around at the surroundings, Sam unfortunately caught in the middle of it.

“Sorry, Y/N. I have no idea why he’s in such a mood.” Sam tried.

“It’s fine, Sam. It’s not like I haven’t dealt with an angry Dean before.” You gave him a small smile before reaching for your glass of peach whiskey.

“Really, Alabama? Alabama?” Looking back towards you, Dean gave you weird look as if judging your taste.

“What? I like the humidity. Plus, this place is quiet.” You shrugged. “Now please fill me in on why you felt the need to track me down and check in on me, because dudes, you’ve never once done that before.”

The two shared a look before Sam let out a sigh, crossing his hands as he rested his elbows on his knees. “It’s the British men of letters.”

“Oh fantastic, what do those tea sipping idiots want now?”

“It’s not what they want, it’s what they’re doing.”

Another wave of silence.

“Okayyy. You care to elaborate?”

“They’re killing off American hunters. Hunters with years of experience under their belt. They’ve already killed Eileen, and we think they might have mom.” Dean explained.

“Shit.” You paused, finding the proper words hard to find. “I’m sorry.” You shook your head, suddenly feeling extremely guilty for not keeping in touch. “And you thought-“

“They were gonna come for you next. Yeah.”

“I should have called you guys when my phone broke a few weeks ago just to inform you that you wouldn't be able to reach me that way anymore. I’m really sorry.”

Dean looked like he was on the verge of another fit but luckily Sam caught it and stepped in before anything could escalate. “It’s fine Y/N. What matters is that your safe.”

“I know, I know. I just- I feel bad. You guys are welcome to spend the night here instead of in some cheap motel room, and tomorrow If you want I can help you guys figure this shit out. Get coordinated. It’s the least I can do to make up for being a shitty friend and making you guys worry.”

“If you have enough room we’ll gladly take you up in that offer.” Sam smiled, rising from the bench before pulling you into a hug. “How’d you even come by this place?”

“One of my families old hunting safe houses.” You shrugged, pulling away. “And don’t worry about room. There’s a bedroom and a pullout sofa in the sun room to the back of the house. Perfect amount of space for two grown ass men.”

“Oh no, we’re not taking up your space like that. I can sleep on the floor.” Dean shook his head as he now stood in front of you, the anger and annoyance seemingly gone. (Dean never could stay angry at you for long.)

“Dee, it’s fine. Really. I usually fall asleep in the hammock anyways. I find it more relaxing than any memory foam mattress.”

“Seriously?”

“yeah, seriously.” You shrugged with a light grin. Dean let out a soft chuckle before the two of you fell into silence once more. This time finding it to be acomfort. You both watched as Sam walked back around the side of the house, no doubt heading back to the car for their bags.

“I’m sorry for getting angry earlier. I was jsut super worried-“

“I know, I get it. It’s not the first time you’ve done that.”

You observed as Dean looked down at his hands, the hunter clearly ashamed of his earlier actions. Somewhere in the grass crickets began chirping, a bullfrog adding into the sound every once in awhile. As you watched him you could see the bags under his eyes, the heavy slump of his shoulders. Your usually vibrant Dean wasn't shining like usual.

A deep sigh left your lungs as you found your hand moving to cup the side of his face, his head lifting just enough to see the sad smile on your lips. “You look tired Mo ghraidh.”

Dean let out a soft chuckle at the words (even if after years he had yet to figure out what they meant. Once again, you and your eagerness to learn random languages), his eyes crinkled as he returned the same smile, leaning into your touch. “Oh I am tired.”

“You've been busy.”

“that's a fucking understatement.”

“Well,” You sighed, lightly patting his cheek before leaning in to press a kiss to where your palm had been. “You can tell me all about if over breakfast tomorrow, and then you can get my rundown.”

“sounds like a deal.” He swallowed, almost losing his words as he took you in. The firelight dancing across your skin and making your eyes blaze to life. God, you were beautiful. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Dee.” Your smile slowly grew as you pulled him into a tight hug, feeling him bury his face in your neck. Hugs like this felt like home. It felt peaceful and calm. . .something you hadn't been in a very long time.

*. *. *. *. *. *.

Dean woke slowly the next morning, the house eerily silent as he threw back the sheets. Either you and Sam were stealth artists in the morning or he’d slept like the dead. The sunlight made the hunter squint as he trudged tiredly towards the kitchen, his eyes not used to seeing sunlight in the mornings after getting so used to a dark bunker. Sam was seated at the kitchen counter, an empty bowl of cereal next to him as he spoke softly to someone on the phone, probably Jody or Donna.

“Morning.”

“Morning.” Sam slightly lifted the phone from his ear. “Y/N poured you coffee. It’s on the table.”

Mumbling a tired thanks, Dean used the heel of his hand to rub at his eyes, yawning as he moved passed Sam to wrap his hand around the mug you had left. It was only when he was sinking down into one of the vacant seats did he let his eyes search the room for you. It was easy to see that you weren’t there though. The only occupants in the house being him and his brother. Slowly sipping on the coffee in his hands he waited patiently for Sam to finish the call. When he hung up he finally allowed himself to speak.

“You seen Y/N this morning?”

“Yeah, I think she’s out back.” Sam grinned over the lip of his own mug as he watched Dean turn his head to look out the back windows. “Surprised the two of you weren’t snuggled up last night with each other.”

“Stop it.” Dean warned, turning again this time to glare at his brother.

“What? Isn’t that how it is?”

“No! And you know it. And don’t give me the whole but so many people can see it crap. You know this lifestyle aint built for romance . . .or whatever.” he muttered the last words before suddenly pushing himself up from his seat once again and heading towards the back door, coffee still in hand. Eager to leave the conversation behind.

in truth Dean wanted nothing more to be with you, Truly be with you. To hold you like you were meant to be held. To tell you he loved you. To drown you in kisses. But this life wasn't built for it. You both knew that, that was why you didn't make any bold moves towards each other. Arms length away meant safety and safety meant living.

In the morning light it was much easier to take in the surroundings, the steps to the back porch ended at the grass before the partially overgrown lawn went down to the waters edge, a weather worn dock leading out onto the blue waters. It took him a moment for his eyes to find you but when he does hes almost taken back. Your laying on the dock, one foot tangling over the water while the other was tucked up, your sunglasses perched on your nose as you hold an open book above you, clearly reading.

It’s a sight to say the least. You look calm. Content even. And that’s a very rare thing to see on you. For as long as Dean has known you, you have always been a person in motion, always busy with something, wether that be pacing the bunkers library nose deep in a lore book or swinging a machete at vamps. It’s a foreign sight to see you doing something that doesn’t involve monsters in any aspect. He pauses for a moment where the grass ends and the dock begins before stepping out onto it, the light creak making you look up from your book as he walked towards you.

“Hey.”

“Hey, Sam told me I would find you out here. You get up early?”

“I’m always up early. You know that.” You smiled, closing your book and dropping it onto your chest. “I’m surprised your up. You looked tired last night.”

“Yeah, well. My sleep schedules kinda fucked already.” Dean sighed, crossing his arms before deciding to sit down next to you.

“You look grumpy. What happened?”

“Sam happened. It’s nothing.”

Swinging your other leg back onto the dock you slowly sat up. “Doesn’t sound like nothing. You wanna talk about it?”

“Oh ho, no way.” He shook his head, leaning back on his palms and tilting his head up towards the sun.

“Well alright, fine.” You shrugged, You knew when it was a good time to prod and when it wasn't. This was one of the latter.

“What are you doing out here anyways?”

“Reading, what does it look like?” you quipped, popping to your feet before bending down to pick up your book. “plus, I need the sun. Hunters tend to get pale when they only work in the dark.”

“maybe i should lay out her then.”

That got a laugh out of you.

“What?”

“Dude, you lay out here for an hour and its gonna look like you got bitch slapped by the sun. . .no offense.” You joked, holding out a hand to hoist him up.

“Nah, you're probably right.”

“I would pay good money to see that though.”

“You're such an asshole.”

“I know.” giving him a pat on the shoulder you began walking back towards the house, the hunter watching you closely as you retreated.

There was something different out you. The way you carried yourself and the way you spoke. Most people wouldn't catch on but he did. Something was off. He could practically feel it radiating off of you in waves, even if you were acting like everything was normal. You were acting uncommonly lighthearted.

“You said last night you were gonna tell me why you're all the way out here in some small town USA. Care to fill me in?” He suddenly spoke, following you off the dock.

There was silence for a moment, almost as if he caught you off guard. “I told you, it’s a family safe house. I was staying here while hunting the rugaru. Just needed a week to rest up before I headed out again.” You shrugged.

A week to rest up? When Sam has talked to Jody she had said you had been out here for almost five. His eyes narrowed slightly as he watched you walk up the back steps. There was something else you weren’t telling him.

“You found a new case yet?”

“Oh uh. . . No. No I haven’t.” Shaking your head casually before holding the door open for Dean and stepping inside.

There was his second hint that something was up. You were the type of hunter that was always on their toes, looking for the next case before one was wrapped up. Dean didn’t know how you did it. Sure he could do some cases back to back, but he needed breaks every once and awhile.

“Rugaru case must have whipped your ass, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure did.” You mumble.

Dean opened his mouth to speak again, but was cut off when you beat him to it. “Let’s get to work on figuring out how to handle these British bastards, okay?” You gave Dean one of your soft smiles, running a hand through his hair as you passed by and entered the kitchen.

Watching you go, Dean felt a new sense of worry grow in his chest. You weren’t acting like you. Something was eating at you, and the thought of you being in pain broke his heart.

SPN Taglist:

@familybusinesswritingbro@a–1–1–3 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @music-is-all-i-need @agusdoti @callmekda @jordangdelacruz @orphiceseum @andthatsmyworld @marvelfangirllll @fandomnerdespressourself @gladiosamicitias @castielsangelsx @lxstgxrl-ck @tis-i-the-wayward-idgit @amendoise @phoenixuprisingsstuff @ericalynne007 @kaitlaitlaitl @totallyluciferr @supernaturalenchanted @dolanfivsosxox@supernatural-ocs @emptycanvasposts @akshi8278 @defenderrosetyler @heyyy-hey-babyyy @idksupernatural @vicmc624 @all-will-be-well-love@busy-bee-angel-misska @starsandmidnightblue @lilulo-12fanfiction @beanie-beebo @xoxoaudreymarie @greenarrowhead @mrsjenniferwinchester @mysticalfuncollectorus @brebolin @biahblue @noahandthegiraffe @hhiggs

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester one shot #spn x reader #SPN #bi-danvers writing

112 notes · View notes

leafs-lover · 4 years

Text

Because Two People Got Drunk: 23

Series Masterlist

Chapter 23

Summary: Your trip in Greece is coming to an end; conversations of the future and the state of your relationship ensue.

Warning: Swearing, smut, oral sex (male and female receiving), kind of public smut but not really?

Word Count: 7200

“What do you think Ollie is doing?” you ask the next morning while looking into the closet for clothes.

“He is having a bath” Fred exclaims showing you a picture of Oliver in the bathtub at his parents’ house, bubbles surrounding him as he has a huge smile on his face. “Mom said when she turned her back to check on the pancakes he reached into the batter bowl to pull out a blueberry. The entire thing spilled on him so now he is having a bath.”

You both laugh as he shows you the pictures of your son covered in batter “he loves his blueberries” you say.

“Get dressed in something comfortable we have some walking today. But wear a bathing suit underneath” he places a quick kiss on your cheek before walking out of the room.

A few minutes later you are sitting in the passenger seat of the rental car, Fred’s hand gently resting on your thigh as he drives along the cliffside roads before stopping in a parking lot. You step out of the car and you and Fred begin the hike up to Akrotiri, his hand laced with yours.

Akrotiri is a village established in the Bronze Age as a fishing and farming village. A few centuries later the area had expanded into significant trade port with Cyprus and Minoan Crete. There is evidence of foreign pottery and copper discovered; indicative of the sophistication of the settlement. There is even paved streets and evidence of a drainage system.

When you arrive you see the village is built on the slopes of a hill, and has a view of the Caldera cliffs. In 16th Century BC there was a series of earthquakes which alerted the community of the possible eruption. The members of the community fled the area leaving behind many of their possessions. A volcanic eruption occurred and the town was covered in volcanic ash which preserved most of the settlement.

Archaeologists have been excavating the area since 1967; there is a path that connects the excavation site to the current town. Inside the excavation area there are walkways suspended above the remains. You explore the village and some of the buildings open to the public. The walls are decorated in magnificent wall-paintings, and there is a large majority of ceramic scattered around.

“This is incredible” you say looking around at the excavation. “Being in a place that is this old makes you really realize how small we are.”

Fred’s hand rests on the small of your back and he kisses your cheek “yeah how our lives are just a small moment in time.”

After a few hours you and Fred make the journey back to your car. He drives to a beach that has a few other patrons scattered around it, but is relatively quiet. He pulls out a blanket from the trunk and some sandwiches he had packed away, setting up a picnic on the beach.

After eating you sit on the blanket watching the deep blue water slowly crash against the shore. “You really are amazing” you say resting your head on his shoulder “you planned an incredible trip, all the details and I had no idea. Like genuinely zero clue you were doing this, you always surprise me.”

“I know I really am the best” Fred jokes placing a hand on your leg “let’s go swim” he says. You look to him and see that the heat is causing beads of sweat to fall down his forehead, glistening in the sunlight.

You both stand up and Fred peels his shirt off leaving him in his bathing suit, you smile as you breathe him in, his chiseled chest and broad shoulders. You step to your tip toes and kiss him, placing your hand lightly on his chest. Fred’s hand lightly touches your back as he kisses you back. You deepen the kiss bringing your other hand to the back of his neck. Fred pulls away, causing you to groan in displeasure. “Senere Kære, er vi ikke alene” he chuckles as he pulls your shirt over your head.

You step out of your shorts as Fred grins seeing you standing in your navy bikini. “Fuck your gorgeous” he says as he scans up and down your body. Your bikini hugs you in the right places, hangs low on your hips; your chest is practically popping out of the top. His eyes are locked on your chest as he pulls you in close to him placing a passionate kiss on your lips. He runs a finger up your side, playing with the knot on your bottoms while his other hands slide down your back stopping on your butt. You pull back slightly and whisper his words “later dear we are not alone” back to him.

He laughs “when did you start learning Danish?” he questions.

“Well my boyfriend kept saying things in Danish and I never knew what he was saying. So I decided to start learning the language. But so far I only know a little bit, still a lot to go.”

“Hmm, is that so?” he questions against your lips.

“My boyfriend and son are Danish; I figured it’s important I learn some. This way I can talk with some of your family members, It’s a part of you and Ollie and any other kids we have, so it should be a part of me too.”

“You are something babe” he mumbles kissing you.

“Also when you start to grumble under your breath in Danish about something I’m making you do I want to know what you’re saying” you joke.

“No idea what you’re talking about” he says staring at you with a smirk on his face.

“Really?” you question. “I remember a lot of grumbling and Danish being said when it came to hanging pictures in the living room. Wish I could have known what you were saying then.”

He looks down at you with his golden brown eyes, lingering as he grins down at you. “I don’t remember that at all” he says kissing you causing you to laugh into the kiss. You pull away and move into the water, you wade in the warmth occasionally stealing kisses. You spend a few hours on the beach before retreating to the hotel.

“You ready yet” Fred calls from the living room. You can see him in the living room sitting on his phone; he has called out to you 3 times already.

“You said we had to leave at 6:30, its only 6:20 so I still have time babe” you reply poking your head around the corner.

He turns his head to look at you “its 6:24 and you aren’t dressed. You aren’t going to be ready on time” he groans.

You walk away laughing and head to the bed where your dress is laid out. A few minutes later you exit the room in an emerald green satin maxi dress. It has adjustable spaghetti straps that crisscross at the back and has a mauve, red, peach, and green floral print. It has a high, fitted waist, with a flowing maxi skirt with a high front slit.

Fred hears you coming and stands up putting his phone in his pocket. When he finally sees’s you his jaw practically drops to the floor.

“Wow, you look incredible” he says walking over to you placing his hands on your hips. He gently kisses you on the lips “absolutely incredible.” You wrap your hands around his neck and kiss him back, “I still have 2 minutes to spare” you say when you pull back.

You turn around to walk when Fred pulls you back towards him “you’re missing something though elskede” he says. You shoot him a confused glance as Fred reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a small red jewelry box and hands it to you. You examine the box, noticing the gold border and Cartier painted across the top.

You look at Fred, and he smiles while raising his eyebrow at you while you open the box. Inside is a pair of white gold brilliant-cut diamond earrings. The main stone is surrounded by multiple smaller stones. The light shimmers off the diamonds no matter the angle you look at them.

“Freddie” you whisper “this is beautiful. It’s too much though.”

“Nothing is too much for you” he says. Your eyes finally meet his and you stand on your tippy toes kissing him. You bring one hand up into his hair and grip the back of his neck, while his hands slide around your waist. Your tongue dances in his mouth when you finally pull away.

“I’m going to put these on then I’ll be ready” you say walking to the mirror. You change the earrings with the ones you are currently wearing; Fred walks up behind you kissing your neck.

“They are stunning” you say clasping the second one. Fred runs his hands up your arms “just like you” he says kissing your cheek. You turn around and wrap your hands in his hair pulling his face closer to yours as your lips connect. Your hands grip his red hair, as he leans down, hands cupping your ass.

Your hands tangle as the kiss intensifies, you rolling your hips eliciting a soft moan from Fred’s lips. You finally pull away, you’re both gasping for air. A smile spreads across your face while you bring a hand up and wipe some lipstick you left on his lips. He glances to the clock behind which says 6:31 “told you we’d be late” he grabs your hand and leads you out of the room.

“Wow, look at this, it’s breathtaking” you say looking out at the view from the table. Fred booked you a table at an amazing romantic restaurant during sunset; it has dramatic views of the caldera and the deep blue Aegean sea.

“Yeah it is, but you even more beautiful” Fred says grabbing your hand and giving it a light squeeze.

“You are ridiculous you know that?” you joke rolling your eyes.

“I just don’t know if you know how beautiful you are” he says sipping his red wine.

“I mean you only tell me 5 times a day”

“Oh, I should be telling you more than that” he says causing you both to laugh.

You fall into a casual conversation as you sit at the end of the outdoor patio enjoying your dinner. You sit and watch the beautiful sunset, after dinner the waiter returns to your table to clear your table.

“Can I interest you in some dessert?” he asks returning to the table. You think back to the menu, and remember reading about the pies and cakes earlier. If the desert is half as good as the entre you know you are in for a treat, your mouth begins to water.

Without even waiting for your response Fred says yes and orders you the chocolate cake with caramel drizzle. “You know me so well” you say smiling at him.

“No you are just predictable with deserts, chocolate.”

A few minutes later the waiter returns setting down the plate with two forks.

“Oh this is amazing” you moan taking a bite of the decadent cake. Fred leans over the table and says in a hushed tone “I can’t wait to make those sounds later.”

Your eyes go wide, feeling wetness pool in your core. Fred keeps his eyes locked on you, a devilish grin on his face as he takes a small piece of cake on his fork. After swallowing a piece of cake, he sets his fork down and wipes the side of his mouth with the napkin.

He stands up, pulling you with him. He places a hand on the small of your back leading you out to the car. His hand slides down to your ass as he reaches around you for the door handle. Before opening the door you turn around and pull him against you.

Fred presses you against the car, his hands squeezing your hips tightly. You roll your hips into his, one hand squeezing his side the other firmly gripping his bicep. One of his hands slides to the high slip on your dress, pushing its way through the fabric. You bring your leg up and bend it, further exposing your skin.

Fred’s tongue continues to swirl around in your mouth, his large hand slides up your thigh, pushing through the slit. His finger grazes over your clothed core when you giggle and pull back. You hear Fred take a deep breath, before his mouth attaches to your neck.

“Freddie” you moan.

“Yes dear” he mumbles nipping your neck.

You playfully attempt to push him off you, but he overpowers you pushing you against the car chuckling against your neck.

“Babe come on” you groan as he sucks on your sweet spot one hand firmly squeezing your ass.

“Someone might come” you moan feeling his erection press into your pelvis.

“So” he says a finger slipping under your underwear.

“Ohh” you moan feeling him lightly graze your folds. “Our hotel is 10 minutes away” you say gripping his wrist pushing him off you. Fred smirks at you before re-adjusting himself and opening your door.

When you finally return to the hotel room Fred immediately pins you against the wall, his mouth attached to yours. Your hand untucks his shirt and makes it way to his hard stomach before finding his treasure line. Fred reaches down and grabs under your thighs, hoisting you up. Your mouth doesn’t leave his as he walks over to couch sitting down.

You sit on your knees and grab the hem of his shirt and pull it over his head before reconnecting your mouth to his chest. One of Fred’s hands slides up gently caressing your ass. His other returns to the slit of your dress, and begins to caress the exposed skin. He moves his hand to the zipper of your dress but before he can you slowly slide off Fred and onto your knees in front of him. You hear him mumbling in Danish as you start to undo his belt. After removing his belt you undo his pants and slide them off his large thighs.

Your hands slide up his thighs as you place soft kisses on his legs. Your hand begins to palm him over his boxers; you can feel his erection straining the thin fabric waiting to be freed. You gently toy with the elastic before looking up at him. You lock eyes and you pull them off, Fred lifts his hips to help you. As the fabric comes down you hear his hard cock slap against his stomach.

You bring your eyes down to look at it, precum dripping from the tip causing you to lick your lips. The tip is red and throbbing as you bring it to your mouth, licking him up. Your hands gently slide up and down his thigh as you place soft kisses on his cock. You open your mouth and move to take him in. You look up to him and Fred groans as you take him in your mouth. You start slow, gently bobbing on him, using your hand to take what your mouth can’t fit.

Your hand and mouth work together as you continue slowly bobbing on him. You pull your hand down to his thigh and begin stroking them up and down as you take more of him in your mouth. You continue your motions, taking more of him each time.

After a few minutes of having him in your mouth, you increase the pace. You hollow your cheek to take all of him; his hand comes to your hair moving it from your face. You look up at him through your lashes, locking eyes as he hits the back of your throat.

Fred rocks his hips, causing you to gag slightly as some spit dribbles out of your mouth. Some of your hair begins to fall in front of your face; Fred slides his hand in your hair pulling it into a ponytail behind your head. You continue sucking on him and stroking his thighs.

“Babe…I’m gonna…I’m” he starts to mumble. You feel his thighs tighten indicating he is almost done and you gently squeeze on them. You swirl your tongue around him a few times before you deep throat him and feel his warm cum hit the back of your throat.

You continue sucking on him until he stops. You lick him up and pull your mouth away and stand up. Fred pulls you into his lap and wipes some off your chin. He brings his finger to your mouth and you open it, swirling your tongue around his finger.

“Fucking hell” he says as you continue to suck on his finger. He pulls his hand from you and stands up throwing you over his shoulder; “Freddie” you squeal. He carries you down the hall to the bedroom, bringing a hand up to smack your ass. You giggle as he throws you on the bed, quickly crawling on top of you.

Today is your fourth and final full day in Santorini. The trip has been amazing, you and Fred have spent the days exploring the beautiful island learning about the history, and the nights tangled in the bed together. You fly back tomorrow at 3pm, so you plan on exploring the capital tomorrow.

You are in a light sleep when you begin to feel light kisses being placed on your core. Your eyes flutter open when you feel a tongue slip inside your walls. You look down and see a shirtless Fred lying on his stomach, your legs hooked over his shoulders; his hands gripping your ass.

A soft moan escapes your lips and you feel Fred smile between your legs. He gently licks the outside of your slit, tasting your juices. Fred moves his tongue from your left to the right dragging it across your entrance in the process, eliciting a sharp breath from you.

His tongue presses further inside your walls, his beard rubbing against your thighs. His hand slides under your shirt up your stomach along your rib cage, and along the outer edge of your breasts. He continues sliding his hand up and down the same trail a few more times getting closer and closer to your nipples each time, grazing your areolas.

He begins circling your breasts with his hands, occasionally pinching your nipples as his tongue applies more pressure. He begins exploring inside of you, finally pressing his tongue as far in as it could.

You begin to feel the ball building in your stomach, as you take in a few sharp breaths. Fred eases up the pressure, becoming gentler in his motions, earning a whimper from you as you were getting close to your release.

His tongue doesn’t move from you, continuing to fuck inside you with it. Your hands grip the bedsheets as his nose brushes against your clit. Your breathing becomes deeper; nipples are hard while beads of sweat develop on your forehead and neck.

You rotate your hips slightly, and clench your legs around his head. Fred increases the pressure, pinching your nipple.

“Holy shit” you moan; Fred increases his rhythm. Your orgasm washes over you; your knuckles go white as you tightly grip the sheets, your walls tense against his tongue. Fred doesn’t move, his tongue continues to thrust inside of you as your breathing becomes normal.

Fred releases your legs, and crawls up your body on his elbows. Sweat has gathered in sections across your body and you stare back at him with a smile on your face; you see some of your juices on his chin and in his beard. Fred closes the gap and kisses you; you taste yourself on him sliding your hands up his biceps as you scratch his back.

“Good morning” he mumbles against your lips.

“Definitely is a good morning. You should wake me up like that every day” you say kissing him again.

“I’ll see what I can do” he mumbles kissing your collarbone.

“You order breakfast?” you ask smelling the dark roast coffee.

“Mhm” he hums sucking on your neck his hand sliding under your shirt “breakfast is the most important meal skat.”

He lowers himself and begins kissing the exposed skin of your stomach eliciting soft moans from your lips. Your stomach growls loudly causing Fred to groan and laugh; “I guess you need to eat” he says crawling away pulling you out from under the duvet.

After breakfast you head to Mesa Pigadia a small, quiet beach with large pebbles and dark blue, crystal-clear waters where you take out some kayaks along coast. There is the occasional patron on the beach, but the area is relatively quiet. You pass by the red and black sand beaches along the way to some sea caves. “This is amazing” you say taking his hand as you step out of the kayak, “how long have you been planning this for?” you question.

“Not too long, just a couple weeks… or months” he says kissing your cheek.

“Is that all?” you question raising your eyebrow at him.

“Well I wanted this summer to be special, so I brought you to the place that I thought might compare to your beauty” he says placing a light kiss on your lips. “It doesn’t by the way” he whispers in your ear causing you to roll your eyes. Fred pulls his shirt over his head, leaving him in his bathing suit. You smile seeing his tanned and firm upper body.

“You know once you have the girl you can stop with the cheesy lines” you joke. Fred laughs wrapping his arms around your waist “not a cheesy line, it’s the truth” he places a soft kiss on your forehead. He hands you a snorkel and you strip down to your bathing suit before jumping into the clear blue water, Fred following behind you. You see the colourful coral and vibrant fish while you explore the caves. As you are swimming you feel Fred touch your arm, he points to your side, you follow his gaze with your eyes and you are taken back.

You see a 4 foot loggerhead turtle swimming a few feet away. It has a reddish-brown shell as it glides through the water with ease. You and Fred float in the water staring at it for what feels like forever but likely was only a minute before it swims out of view. You both pop up and Fred pulls out his mouthpiece “that was amazing!”

“I can’t believe we just saw that, that was incredible!” you say as Fred pulls you close and places a kiss on your lips. Your hands grip the back of his neck as you continue kissing him, floating in the calm waters of the cave. Fred pulls back “want to head back?” he questions. You nod as you swim back to the kayaks.

You step up onto the shore, water dripping down your sun kissed skin. You walk up to Fred and lock him in a deep, passionate kiss “we should get back” he whispers his hands lightly placed on your waist.

“You sure” you whisper, your hand sliding down his treasure line over the front of his bathing suit, you palm over him and feel him begin to harden under you. Fred grips your wrist and pushes it off of you, a grin on his face. You smirk at him; standing on your tippy toes you kiss Fred. Your hands snake into his hair, pulling his head down to you; you push your hips forward feeling him through his bathing suit.

His hands on your hip push you back onto flat feet, you grin up at Fred who pulls you in closer to his chest. “You’re lucky there is nothing in here for me to bend you over” he growls into your ear.

His hand slides down your back, under your bathing suit. He starts to stroke your bare ass as he begins sucking on your neck, a whimper leaving your lips. Fred grins before leaning down to kiss you, you feel his hands wander your body and don’t even notice what he is doing until you feel your bottoms hit your feet.

Your eyes go wide and you pull away from him slightly. Fred sucks on your bottom lip, as he brings a hand to your folds. He toys with the entrance, gently opening them up as you moan. He slips two fingers in and begins pumping them, your head falls back and Fred bites the newly exposed area of your neck.

“Fred…what if…what if someone comes” you barely manage to say as he thrusts his long fingers in and out. He uses a leg to spread your legs a little wider, bringing his thumb up to press circles into your clit.

“You should have thought of that before you teased me” he replies increasing the pace.

“Fuck” you mumble as is quickly pumping inside you. You rock your hips to increase the friction and hear Fred chuckle. He continues to fuck his fingers in and out of you and slips a third one in. The third finger brings you to the edge of your orgasm, the ball building in your stomach.

“Babe” you whine your hands gripping onto his biceps, trying to brace yourself for what you know is about to happen.

“You gonna cum?” Fred asks but you know he knows the answer. A whimper leaves your mouth as you feel your walls begin to tighten, just as you are about to fall over the edge everything stops. Fred pulls his fingers from you and wipes them on his bathing suit.

“What?” you ask unable to form a clear sentence. Fred steps away and over to the bag and pulls his shirt over his head.

“You think you get to do whatever you want. You think you can tease me all day long, well two can play at that game.” Before you have a chance to respond Fred kisses your cheek and hands you your clothes “sucks doesn’t it?”

You pull away; Fred has a large grin on his face. You stand there for a moment locked in a staring contest. Fred steps closer to you and places his mouth beside your ear “you can try to take care of yourself, but it won’t be the same. We both know you can’t take care of yourself the way I do, but if you want to try I’m not in a rush.”

He doesn’t move, his breath on your neck sending goosebumps down your spine. You consider his words, and you know he is right. You can get the job done yourself but you know it won’t be the same. And the fear of someone showing up is concerning to you. You take a step back from Fred who is still smirking at you; you shake your head and huff in disapproval before shimmying your wet bottoms back up your legs and throwing your clothes over top.

Fred smiles, knowing he has won and helps you get into your kayak to make the journey back. When you return the kayaks Fred stops at a small café on the way back to the hotel to grab some sandwiches and salad to eat back at the hotel.

After you finish eating on the patio you head inside to shower the salt water off of you. You curl your hair into beachy waves and apply your makeup in a natural fashion. You stand in your wrap trying to pick something to wear when Fred walks out from the bathroom. You watch him walk by, his towel hung low on his hips, water dripping down his abs. His wavy red hair is damp, and you can tell he hasn’t brushed it yet, merely running his hand through it to pull it from his eyes.

“You know you could wear nothing and you would look amazing” he mumbles wrapping his arms around you playfully pulling at the strings of your robe.

You laugh lightly “you say that because you love it when I wear nothing.”

“Very true, but I do love you in everything and anything. I ordered dinner, so you have 20 minutes babe” he kisses your cheek and places a light slap on your ass. You squeal and jump slightly while Fred walks to the other side of the room to his dresser. You turn around to say something but in that moment Fred drops the towel from his waist. You see his large thighs, his tan line from his bathing suit; and his butt, that is a lighter colour in comparison. You have the urge to walk over and cup his ass when he bends over to pick out a pair of boxers from the bottom drawer. You can see part of his member as it hangs before he stands up straight pulling it out of view.

Your eyes slowly walk up his back, before finding his eyes staring back at you. A devilish grin has spread across his face; you feel your cheeks immediately go red.

“I see you like it when I wear nothing too” he grins before pulling his boxers up over his toned ass. You turn away to your clothes as you hear Fred getting dressed behind you. You use all your willpower to not turn around and look at him because you know if you do you won’t be able to stop yourself. You hear silence and you finally will yourself to turn around and see that he has left the room.

About 10 minutes later you walk out to the balcony and see Fred in a tight white button up shirt tucked into his khaki pants. Your breath catches in your throat as you move toward him. Fred hears your heels and looks up “every day you get a little more beautiful” he says kissing you. You are dressed in a white and blue floral romper, it has thin straps with an intricate crochet overlaid on top. “But if we’re being honest I prefer you in nothing” he growls in your ear.

“Same babe” you whisper.

You sit outside eating dinner and drinking wine together when Fred moves to the food cart the hotel left earlier and places a decadent piece of chocolate cake on the table. Before sitting down he pulls you into his lap. He takes the fork and feeds both of you the cake, your mouth waters the entire time. But not because of the cake but the man that is feeding you.

He scoops the last piece on the fork and moves to feed it to you, but quickly puts it in his mouth. He slowly pulls the fork from his mouth as your jaw drops “Frederik I can’t believe –“ before you can finish Fred locks you in a deep kiss. You can taste the cake on his lips “you know what calling me Frederik does” he groans.

You move to place soft kisses on his neck below his ear “I don’t know what you’re talking about” you mumble sucking on his neck “Frederik.”

Fred abruptly stands up; you practically fall off and burst out laughing. Fred picks you up throwing you over his shoulder carrying you to the bedroom. You reach down to grab Fred’s ass, but before you can he brings a hand up and places a smack on yours causing you to squeal. When you reach the bedroom he throws you onto the bed and quickly is on top of you.

He rests his hands on either side of your head. He leans down locking you in a passionate kiss. Based on the playfulness of the last few hours and the 3 bottles of wine you have consumed you expect it to be rushed and sloppy but find it to be soft and tender. You moan into the kiss as his tongue dances in your mouth.

One of your hands slide under his shirt feeling his muscular back. Your nails lightly drag up and down his back as he begins lightly sucking on your neck. Your hand moves around to his chest and you begin unbuttoning his shirt. Fred’s right hand slips down to your leg and gently begins drawing circles on your thigh before slipping it up under the hem of your romper shorts. He lightly strokes his fingers over your clothed core.

Your back arches as you push his shirt off his shoulders. Fred brings his hand up and pushes your straps off your shoulders. He helps you slide out of your romper, placing soft kisses on your chest and stomach. Once he has removed your romper he kisses your neck while undoing your bra. Your hands explore his bare muscular back. Once he has removed your bra he begins to gently massage your breast before bringing his mouth down the suck on the other one.

“Fred" you moan out as your hands slide down to his belt making quick work of the buckle. When you unbutton his pants he lifts away and rids himself of them and his boxers leaving himself completely exposed. You lean on your elbows and stare at him. You look down at his hard cock while you lick your lips; you see the leaked precum and think about is having him in your mouth. “Not tonight baby” Fred says pushing you so you are lying on your back and pulls your panties down your legs “not tonight baby”

He returns to the bed, lifting your legs over his shoulder while lying down on his stomach. He stares into your dripping cunt; you feel his breath on it as his beard grazes your thighs. He licks a stripe up you and mumbles “fuck you’re so wet baby.”

“You do this to me baby” you say causing Fred to groan loudly.

He continues placing light licks on you for a few minutes before he brings two fingers and slowly slides them into you. You cry out as he begins to slowly thrust in and out of you, while sucking on your clit. Your hand falls down to his hair as he continues to gently pump in and out of you.

You can feel your ball beginning to form deep in your stomach, but you know it will take a while at this speed. Fred knows it too, but he doesn’t pick up his pace. His fingers slowly curl in and out hitting your spot every time. His mouth slides from your clit into your folds as he licks inside you. “Taste good too" he mumbles.

At that moment his pace picks up his fingers being thrust into you. “Fuck" you cry out gripping his hair tightly. The ball in your stomach is close to bubbling over and this encourages Fred. His thumb massages your clit as his fingers pump in and out hitting your sweet spot every time.

“Cum for me baby” he says. You bring a hand up and start playing with your perked breast. Fred sucks on your pubic bone, as his fingers continue pumping inside you.

Your orgasm comes crashing over you; you grip his hair while your toes curl. Your orgasm is long, and Fred doesn’t stop his hand until you have finished. He pulls his fingers from you and replaces them with his mouth.

You wince at the feeling, still sensitive from your first orgasm. He gently licks up your juices and places light kisses on your thigh and stomach. Your breathing has steadied and you have regained enough of yourself; you attempt to push Fred to his back.

You want him in your mouth, want to taste his precum, but Fred doesn’t let you.

Instead he crawls back up, placing his hands on both sides of your head. He leans down and kisses you passionately as your tongue swirls with his. Your hand attempts to grab his shaft, but Fred grabs your wrist. He brings it above your head, before grabbing your other. He holds both of them above your head with his left hand and uses his right to line himself up.

You can feel him poking at your entrance, and as he slides in he leans down locking you in a deep kiss. Your walls being stretched by him causes you to moan into the kiss as he begins to set a slow and steady pace.

He pulls his face away from yours, looking into your eyes while thrusting into you. Every time he bottoms out before almost pulling fully out. He slams back into you.

His eyes are dark as he continues the pace, his forehead pressed against yours. Normally the slower pace wouldn’t have you reaching your high, but the feeling of him deep inside you, hitting your g-spot has your second orgasm of the night approaching.

“Freddie" you moan arching your hips into him. You want nothing more than to feel his biceps under your nails but he still has your hands pinned above your head. He lowers his face and kisses you, while keeping his pace. Your orgasm continues to build.

“You close babygirl?” he whispers in your ear, although you know he knows the answer. You open your mouth to answer but no words come out only filthy sounds.

Fred lifts his head to look at you; a devilish grin has spread across his face. “Words babe, use your words.”

You moan again as his hips snap into you, but you finally manage to whimper “yes.” His mouth latches on your nipple sucking on it. Your back arches as you move in tandem with him. Your orgasm is right there and as you are about to let go Fred whispers “wait for me babe kay?”

You groan loudly, unsure if you are able to meet his request “you can do it skat" he says still thrusting into you. You lift your hips trying to push Fred to his high soon and it works, you feel him getting sloppy.

Your eyes snap closed from the feeling of trying to hold back, the pleasure becoming too much. You keep them closed trying to focus on breathing so you don’t release without him.

“Open your eyes (Y/N/N)” he says as you feel him stuttering inside you “for me babe.” You muster the energy to look at him as soon as you look into his eyes your high comes. You are unable to control yourself as you spasm around him.

Fred’s dick immediately twitches and you feel his warmth spills deep inside you paining your walls white. When you both finish Fred places light kisses on your nose and forehead.

He releases your hands, and runs his hands through your hair “I love watching you” he whispers as he lays on top of you but somehow you feel like that isn’t what he really wants to say.

You begin to lightly stroke his shoulder and bicep as you doze off. You wake up a few minutes later when you feel the bed shift. Fred leaves and walks to the bathroom; he comes back a few minutes later in his boxers. He has a damp cloth and gently cleans you up, placing soft kisses on your stomach at the same time.

When he finishes he finds a t-shirt for you and pulls it over your head. He lies on his back, you tucked tightly into his arm as you begin to doze off when you hear him whisper “jeg elsker dig.”

“What was that babe?” you mumble.

“Mm, oh nothing. Go to sleep babe.”

The next day you wake up early, and are sitting on the large living room couch drinking coffee while on your phone.

“What are you doing babe?” Fred asks sitting beside you.

“I’m using google translate” he raises an eye brow at you. “Well as you know my boyfriend speaks Danish and I’m trying to learn it.”

“Mhm, I might have been told that” he says, his finger touching your shoulder.

“Well I don’t know everything so I still need to google some things. But I don’t know how things are spelt in Danish.”

He laughs as you continue “I did figure out what smuk means though, you’ve been saying that one for a while.”

“Well you are very beautiful dear” he replies.

“I’m trying to figure out what you said last night. Actually you have said it a few times now. Something like jeg elesek, jeg du ekelse. Something like that I think.”

He looks at you and smiles saying “jeg elsker dig.”

“YES! How do you spell that?” you place your coffee on the table and be begins to spell it out, as soon as you press the translate button and you look up at him. “Freddie” you say softly as you shift to sit on his lap.

“I have loved you since you came to Denmark 2 years ago” he whispers.

A big smile comes across your face “I’m gonna butcher this but…jeg elsker dig.”

He smiles whispering “close enough” he pulls your face to his as he kisses you, but you hold back not fully leaning into it. Fred senses this and stops, looking into your eyes.

“Babe what -?”

“Remember when Auston visited us?” Fred nods. “You made a comment…uh…said something about having another baby.”

Fred takes a deep breath “yes I remember” he replies.

“Did...Did you uh- did you” you trail off before Fred finishes your question “mean it?”

“Yeah” you whisper.

“Of course I did, wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t. I want more babies with you; I mean how could I not? Our first one is the best. I told you a couple nights ago I want see us with more kids. Do you want more kids?”

“Of course I do Fred, our first one is pretty great and I love seeing you as a Dad. Watching you with Oliver makes my ovaries explode” you say not looking at him. “But do you want another one now? You said something not using birth control and putting another baby in me.”

Fred chuckles lightly “Okay the alcohol might have made me not say it the best way. But yes babe I want another baby with you. And I’m ready whenever you are.”

“You don’t think 2 young babies will be hard? Oliver isn’t even two yet.”

“Oh I know it will be, but I know if anyone can handle it, it’s us” he pulls you in and places a light kiss on your lips. “No pressure babe. Can be now, 6 months from now, 2 years from now. Just let me know when you’re ready.”

He leans in to place another light kiss on your lips “it’s your body, and you are the only one of us using birth control. So whenever you want to get off it just let me know.” You bring your hand up to this side of his face deepening it before finally pulling away as you whisper “okay.”

“Is that okay I’m ready, or okay I‘ll let you know when I am ready?”

Green dress:

The earrings:

Your romper:

Next Chapter

#frederik andersen #Freddie Andersen #fred andersen #fred andersen smut #frederik andersen x reader #Fred Andersen Fic #frederik andersen fic #frederik andersen smut #freddie andersen smut #freddie andersen fic #freddie andersen x reader #nhl fic #nhl smut #fred andersen x reader #fredzilla #because two people got drunk #my writing

39 notes · View notes

jimlingss · 5 years

Text

Inside My Mind [M]

➜ Words: 19.2k

➜ Genres: 50% Fluff, 50% Smut, High School!AU

➜ Summary: You're safe in the confines of your mind. Free to think whatever, free to fantasize to your heart's content. And your imagination tends to quite a wild turn when you’re dying from sheer boredom. But when some GUY IN YOUR CLASS CAN FUCKING READ MINDS - YOU'RE NOT SAFE ANYMORE! WHAT THE FUCKSKDKASDFGHJKL—

➜ Warnings: semi-public sex, attempts at dirty talk, consenting minors engaging in sexual actives with each other, first-time sex, brief depiction of tone-deaf sexual education that doesn’t do shit.

You’re safe in the depths of your own mind. No one knows what you’re thinking — they can’t tell when you have a constant poker face and the only change in your features is the way your brows furrow in concentration every so often. But if the teacher and your classmates knew what was going inside your brain, they’d be aware that you were bored out of your goddamn mind. “Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear. So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows, as yonder lady o’er her fellows shows. What does this mean? Flip to the page fifty eight and the modern translation is her beauty is too good for this world; she’s too beautiful to die and be buried. She outshines the other women like a white dove in the middle of a flock of crows. Now with the critical analysis of this soliloquy, we can deduct—” You’re drowsy. Sleepy. Your eyelids are heavy and you feel yourself losing consciousness, head beginning to dip slightly. Everyone else seems to be dulled from the lesson like you, but none are asleep and the last thing you want is to fall out of your chair and draw attention to yourself. So you try jostling your leg. But after a moment, it doesn’t dispel the seduction of sleep. You resort to pinching yourself, but it doesn’t work either. So you go to your last resort, allowing your mind to wander, pulling yourself away from reality…. You imagine someone crawling underneath your desk. Their rough hand tapping up your thigh, shoving your skirt up before carefully pulling your underwear down. This faceless person’s hot breath would skim against your leaking cunt and you’d feel their soft lips right on your flesh. “You like this?” They’d chuckle lowly, vibrations traveling through your skin. “Eating you out in the middle of class like this. What a bad girl. It’s disgusting. What if they see, hmm?” You envision them beginning to eat you out, face pulled up on your slit. Their tongue would penetrate through your hole and you’d clench around them. You’d grab their hair, sinking your fingers through their strands, pushing them closer to you while throwing your own head back to moan. These fantasies make you wide awake again and no one can even tell you’re not paying attention. // The lunch bell rings and you’re finally dismissed from class, freed from the horribly dull lesson. You’re one of the last to leave the classroom, taking your time and humming while walking out by yourself. But your mind is still reeling from your most recent conjured up fantasy. You’re still thinking about the way this faceless person would lick you up, from the bottom of your slit all the way to your clit. Their tongue would swirl around your folds, eyes glancing up to look at your fucked out expression, their tiny chuckles that would vibrate through your body and make your core clench— Wide eyes shock you back to reality. You go crumbling back to the ground, head out of the clouds. Someone’s stopped in the middle of the hallway, blocking your path. They’ve whirled their head around. The dark-haired boy in thick rimmed spectacles looks at you in unadulterated horror and mortification, brown eyes locked into yours. The pair of you stare at each other. Colour drains from his face, lips parted, jaw dropped. It’s almost as if you have said your thoughts out loud for him to hear… “Namjoon!” His friend calls out his name, breaking the private bubble between you two. He runs up to him and quickly takes a glimpse of you. You don’t waste a second to step aside, moving out of the way and walking by them. “Who’s that?” Jinyoung asks, eyes following your backside. Namjoon answers after a delayed beat. “Y/N.” “Huh.” His friend frowns. “Never heard of her. Anyways, what did you think of—” Kim Namjoon is a smart, quiet individual. You’ve known him since sixth grade, but you’ve only spoken a few sentences to him at best when you were forcibly paired up by teachers for group projects. You don’t remember much about him. Only enough to recognize his face. He’s an outsider….much like you are. People think you’re a pleasant, hardworking, studious girl who’s compliant and no-nonsense. At least that’s your exterior. The type to live a quiet life and die quietly without contributing much to society. And you like that image — it’s not too far from the truth. But more importantly, it protects the true thoughts brewing inside your head. But as you walk away, you can’t help glancing behind, over your shoulder towards the boy. He’s weird. And you can’t remember what you were even thinking about anymore. // Against your will, you begin to notice Kim Namjoon. You share biology and health class together; he sits a few rows away from you by the wall. And your eyes can’t help but stray off to him constantly. It’s just strange. You can’t stop your fixation about the way he looked at you, brown eyes shocked and scandalized, cheeks coloured in pink embarrassment. It’s suspicious. The teacher drones on and on about how the myelin sheath deteriorates and the gears of your brain start turning in sheer boredom. You glance at Namjoon’s profile from meters away before you look over to the door, envisioning someone striding in, disregarding the teacher completely. They’d march up to your desk and pull you up by your arm until you’re standing on your feet. You imagine being pulled in, your crotch pressed to theirs. Your mouth would be devoured by their probing tongue. You’d whine at the back of your throat, grabbing onto their shoulders until they’d grunt back, having enough of it and whirling you around. You imagine being bent over your desk, underwear pushed aside and thick fingers mercilessly shoving into your cunt. They’d curl up their knuckles and you’d cry out, grabbing the edge of your desk, notebooks and pencil cases tumbling to the ground. They’d poke and prod, pulling their fingers out to plunge them back in again, collecting your slick between their fingertips. “You like that? Look. You’re leaking all onto the floor.” Your fantasies continue. For the rest of class, you continue to daydream, head in the clouds without anyone noticing. The bell eventually rings. The students are dismissed. As you leave, your eyes stray off to Namjoon again. He’s still sitting in his desk, unmoving. And again, there’s that horrified expression on his face. He’s red from his chin to his forehead, refusing to meet your eye even when you’re blatantly staring. More importantly, there’s something weird poking out in his lap and as you pass, he covers it up with his backpack. Weird. There’s something not right about this and you’re sure you’re not imagining this. You’ve made your observation. You’ve created a question. You’ve formed a hypothesis and as outrageous as it is, it’s the best educated guess you got. And for the rest of the week, you conduct your experiment and collect the data through examining him afterwards. When Monday arrives, you waltz to biology class, stealing a seat directly behind the guy. Class hasn’t started, each person is still getting settled down. You prop your elbow on the desk, cheek rested in your hand as you stare at the back of his head. The strands of his hair are poking in different directions — you wonder if it’s bed head — you also spot a few moles on the nape of his neck and your eyes trace them, drawing lines like you’re making constellations. There’s no way, but there’s no other explanation. With a deep breath, you test your theory. Namjoon. He turns around. “What?” The corner of your mouth tugs into a discreet smirk. You weren’t wrong. His eyes widen, nearly falling out of their sockets and his jaw goes slack. He knows you’ve caught him red-handed. But you merely shake your head, going expressionless and you stare back at him. “I didn’t call you.” You didn’t. You thought his name. It shouldn’t be possible, but rather than being shocked or confused, you’re excited that your hypothesis was correct after all. It’s crazy and wild, but you were right! “Y/N—” “Alright, alright, kids. Settle down. We have a lot to get through today. Your midterms are in three weeks and we’re slightly behind the other class…” The teacher interrupts and he’s forced to turn back around and pay attention. For the rest of class, you think of nothing, simply paying attention to the best of your abilities despite becoming more and more drowsy. By the time everyone’s dismissed again, Kim Namjoon whirls himself around fast enough to get whiplash and he grabs your wrist before you can flee. “C-Can I talk to you?” // The two of you end up at the back of the school, standing on the dead grass beside the spray painted wall. It’s a place where love confessions happen or fights are scheduled. You’re pretty sure he’s going to do neither — no one has crushes on you and while the guy is taller and broader than you are, you doubt he would try to beat you to a pulp. Probably. “H-how did you figure it out?” Namjoon’s a nervous mess, pushing his dirty glasses up the slope of his nose. It slumps down again, but he doesn’t seem to care. He’s sweating buckets, swallowing hard, panicked. You shrug. “I just did.” You don’t want to talk about your fantasies out loud and how you caught the look on his face. You’re more interested in this skill of his, curiosity piqued. “So it’s true then? You can read minds?” The boy’s trying his best to explain himself. “I-...I was born with this ability. It...it skips a generation in my family and I was the one to get it. I’ve always had it. D-don’t tell anyone. No one else knows and I don’t want to be part of an experiment.” Like the one you did on him, except you imagine a proper experiment might be worse. NASA would probably strap him to a table and pull apart his brain to see what’s going on. You get his fears and he seems to read your mind, becoming relieved at your thoughts. “Sorry for putting you through my experiment.” You step closer, invading his personal space without realizing. “But can you really do it? It’s just a bit hard for me to believe. What am I thinking about right now?” He stumbles back a step, uncomfortable. “Me.” It’s obvious, so you envision a string of numbers inside your head. “What number am I thinking about?” “One thousand five hundred sixty four.” Your mouth draws open. “What an—” “Horses.” “What—” “Blue.” “Shit!” You’re grinning, arms in the air, unable to contain how impressed and excited you are. “This is so cool! Why didn’t I know about this before?!” A timid smile pulls onto his cheeks. “I mean we don’t really talk—” “Oh my god.” Your expression washes over to a deadpan, lips pressing together. “Do you get good grades because you cheat on tests?” “I mean...I try...not to…” “God, this is so unfair, but also,” you eye him up and down while stepping back, “really invasive.” The boy swallows hard, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly as he redirects his vision downwards to his shoes. “Sorry about that.” You grimace, muttering, “d-don’t expose my thoughts….” Namjoon becomes red in the face, knowing exactly what you’re referring to. “I won’t. I don’t think I’d even be able to say the things you think out loud.” You scoff, crossing your arms and defending yourself. “It’s normal, you know, for people our age to be a bit….hormonal.” “Alright,” he answers, but you can hear the skeptical tone. You’re a freak — it’s true, but you didn’t want anyone to know, Namjoon is most definitely not an exception to that either. “Don’t reveal my secret and I won’t reveal yours. Deal?” you offer it up, negotiating and he nods, promising not to. It’s cool that Namjoon can read minds, but you’re not sure what to do with this new information. You guess you have mixed feelings with the idea that your thoughts and fantasies are no longer safe, but it’s not like you two interact with each other much or even talk. It’s still exciting, but doesn’t change much of anything. The pair of you part ways, returning to the strangers that you are.

That should be it. You now know that he can read minds. He knows you’re a freak in disguise. A secret for a secret. There’s no reason for any more interaction or conversations to be exchanged. You both lead your own separate lives… But while your mouth doesn’t physically make sounds towards him nor do your eyes stray onto him anymore, your mind travels far and wide. In the middle of a school assembly, forced to stand there and listen to the principal speak, your brain begins to do what it does best — dreaming about fantasies that can’t be fulfilled in reality. You imagine someone sneaking behind you, arms wrapping around your abdomen. They’d turn your head and force their tongue down your throat, claiming you as their own. Their hands would wander, from the skin of your stomach down to your navel and then past the band of your panties— There’s a poke to your side, bringing you back to reality “Can you stop?” the person mutters out from the corner of their mouth in frustration. You look over, finding Namjoon standing right beside you. OH. “It’s distracting,” he dips his head, whispering and trying to remain discreet, not drawing the attention of any teacher who would reprimand him for talking when he’s not supposed to. You open your mouth to defend yourself, but then you remember he can hear your thoughts. Get out of my head, Namjoon! Oh my god! What’s wrong with you?! “I can’t,” he murmurs, looking straight forward to the principal who’s now talking about keeping the school as clean and environmentally friendly as possible. “You’re too close in my proximity.” Luckily enough, most of your fantasies are of faceless people. Sometimes you fantasize about celebrities, but most often than not, you never discern a specific person, never dwelling on their facial details. But that still doesn’t make it any less mortifying. When someone tells you to stop thinking about something, all you can do is think about it. Falling onto the ground. Being pinned to the gymnasium floor. Being fucked roughly until screaming— “Y/N.” Namjoon calls you louder this time, jabbing your side and several students turn around to see what’s going on. None of you move, looking straight ahead and they spin back around. After a moment of silence, he looks at you again. “Stop.” I can’t! I can’t help it! I can’t contain it. I just...I’m too….horny. “Oh my god.” Namjoon is flustered and he puts his hands into his pants pocket, shifting uncomfortably. “Can you please pay attention and listen or like...think about what you’re going to eat later for dinner?” Fine. God. You’re annoying. You’re so annoying! Who told you to get into my head?! This is so embarrassing! I want to die. Oh my god. Get out of my brain! Get out! Get out!! For the rest of the assembly, you’re insulting him and whining inside your mind, wishing the world would just swallow you whole or at least let you curl up into a ball of shame. It’s not your fault that you like to think about these things. It’s normal in fact. People act on their urges. At least you have enough self-restraint than them and you put on a better facade. Why do you have to be punished for something out of your control? // It turns out you’re not safe anywhere. Before all this, your fantasies would come occasionally when you were bored in class and your brain began wandering. But now that you knew your thoughts were exposed and you were trying your best not to think about it anymore, it’s inadvertently all you can think about. It’s reverse psychology at its worst. It especially becomes severe when Namjoon’s around, namely in biology and health class when you’re actively conscious of his presence. Even when he sits across the classroom from you, as far as he can physically get, every ten minutes, you see him turn in his seat to glare at you with bright pink cheeks. “I can’t pay attention in class,” he mutters one day when he decides to sit next to you — apparently taking a seat here and far away makes zero difference to him. “Look, my thoughts are my thoughts,” you harshly whisper, not letting anyone else eavesdrop lest their blood run cold as well. “Maybe you should try zoning me out instead. Didn’t you say you were born with...this? Shouldn’t you be good at ignoring people’s thoughts?” You don’t understand. There were thirty kids around — you couldn’t be the only one bothering him. “Yeah, but your thoughts are...different.” He’s frustrated, huffing out and pushing his glasses up. “Can’t you control your urges for an hour?” For a moment, you forget he can read your mind. When you remember again, you don’t say anything. You think of your answer. No. But despite your annoyance and embarrassment, you try your best. And you do remain focused for the entire lesson, listening and taking diligent notes. When you get confused at a portion, frowning and erasing a few sentences, Namjoon leans over and passes you his notebook. There’s a note in the corner that reads: he means protein, not lipids. It clicks inside your brain and you pass it back to him, meeting his brown eyes. Thanks. Namjoon smiles and you muse he isn’t such a bad guy…. It’s a thought that has his smile widening. // At the end of the day, you pack up your belongings, swinging the backpack over your shoulders to begin the trek home. It’s your usual routine, walking past the school gate, fiddling with your earbuds and listening to some music as you walk down the road. But the main difference of today is that you notice a certain someone is ahead of you, going in the same direction. You rip out your headphones, quickening your pace to meet theirs. And the moment you get three meters away, he turns around, already hearing your thoughts. What are you doing here? “Taking the bus home,” Namjoon answers with a few blinks and when your next question appears, he elaborates, “I usually stay at school for a bit to finish some work.” Oh. That makes sense. I never usually see you. “Actually, I’ve seen you a few times...waiting for the bus….not on purpose. You just happen to be standing there.” Huh. I guess I never noticed. The boy syncs his steps into yours and he scratches the back of his neck, peeking at you quickly. “Y/N, c-can you talk out loud? It’s kind of weird to other people if I’m the only one talking to you and you’re saying nothing.” “Oh. Yeah. Sorry.” You nod, having gotten used to communicating through your mind. “Is it...weird to hear people’s thoughts all the time?” “Yeah.” A tiny smile graces the boy’s lips, having never thought of encapsulating his ability in that one word that undermines yet explains everything he feels. “It’s weird. And really noisy.” “Seems pretty cool though.” “You’d think. But that’s until you know what’s going in people’s heads.” Namjoon releases a wistful sigh and steals a glance at you before shying away. You’re the only one who knows outside of his family and he seizes the moment to share a piece of his sadness, wanting someone to understand. He murmurs, “There’s a reason I’m not that close to anyone...” You stare at him, not sure what to say. You never really thought about the repercussions — solely focusing on yourself and hating how he invaded your head. But for a split second, you see the pain etched onto his features. His ability might be more of a curse than a blessing. “You’re not close to your family?” you ask. At this point, you’re sure there’s no such thing as boundaries or privacy between each other, no question or topic that’s off limits. “Not really,” Namjoon admits casually and your heart aches for him, not knowing what to say. “I know what they really think of me.” “Well a lot of people think things they don’t mean to say or do. Thoughts come and go. And we all get angry and upset sometimes. I’m sure your parents care about you. If they didn’t, they wouldn’t...be around, right?” He smiles softly, knowing that you’re trying to comfort him. “Yeah, I guess. You’d be surprised though. A lot of people’s thoughts are bad and evil. Yours is just dirty.” Namjoon becomes shy, but he says it so bluntly almost like he doesn’t mind it so much anymore. Your eyes immediately avert away from him, scoffing and trying not to burn up in shame. The boy grins and he also looks ahead, down the road sparse of people. He continues, trying to ease the heaviness of the conversation, “Whelp, it’s not all that bad. I’m planning to go to MK National University, so…...yeah, I’ll be able to kind of get away for a while.” “Oh. What do you want to do?” “I don’t know yet. I’m thinking maybe their engineering program. I think I’m interested in civil engineering.” Namjoon nods and he seems more sure of himself than how he makes it out to be. It occurs to you how cute his awkwardness is, the way he’s kind of pure and sweet, how his uniform seems more stretched out than it’s supposed to be. But as fast as these thoughts flood into your system, you quickly nip them in the bud before he knows. “How about you?” “I’ve actually been considering going to MKNU too. I think I want to go into a mathematics program.” You shrug. “But I have no idea what I’ll do with that degree yet. I just like math.” Other clusters of kids around are talking about what they want to eat later, the latest hot gossip around school, what movies have come out, but here you and Namjoon are, being nerds. You’re sharing your love for math while talking about post secondary and the application process that most don’t even know about yet. It’s been a while since you’ve met someone as passionate about school as you are. “That’s impressive. Doesn’t their mathematics program require an eighty five percent average?” “Something like that. I don’t remember the exact number. Engineering’s not too far off, I think. But yeah, things would be okay if it wasn’t for biology dragging my entire mark down.” You exhale a lungful, lolling your head to one side while feeling death upon your shoulders. “I haven’t been really paying attention, so that doesn’t help. It’s just really boring to me.” “Yeah. I can tell.” Namjoon laughs, a gentle sound that rings pleasantly into your ears. He refers to your distracting thoughts and before you can defend yourself, he says, “I can help you if you want. I get it. Mostly.” You perk up, spine straightening, steps slowing as your eyes widen. “Really?” “If you can help me with calculus,” he negotiates with a reserved smile. “There’s some differentiation questions that I’m kind of confused on.” The boy already knows the answer before it’s come out of your mouth. It’s a deal of a lifetime after all and you’d jump oceans to take it. His smile widens yet again at your excitement. Deal. “Deal! Sounds like a plan, Kim!” // The corner spot of the library is your usual place, chair and table positioned perfectly so you can see the entrance and you’ll be able to quickly look up and call him over when he comes. But for now, you pull out your textbook, notebooks and pencil case, flipping through the review book you printed out and seeing what questions you can answer on your own. You become lost in your work, focused to the point of forgetting your surroundings, so you don’t see who’s approaching until they slide up right beside you. “Hey. Seulgi, is it?” Jung Hoseok has his elbows propped up on the table, cheek rested in his hand as he lazily smirks at you. His dark-hair is gelled back, small gold chain on top of his uniform that you’re sure is bought from ebay, top buttons of his shirt loose like his slacks. You are wholly unimpressed. “What? No.” “Oh shit. Aren’t you in Mr. Jeon’s math class?” “No.” You shake your head slowly, wondering why he’s talking to you. The guy doesn’t even know your name. He’s radiating off these sleazy vibes too that you don’t appreciate. You hope he leaves soon. “I’m in Mr. Min’s.” “Shit.” He raises his hands, palms out like he’s being arrested. “My bad. Swore I’ve seen you before though.” “Yeah. I go to school here,” you say in an exaggerated tone. You want to go back to work. He’s interrupted you rudely and you still don’t know what he wants with you. “Do you need something?” “Did your class do those math worksheets?” He leans back. “I...uh...kinda forgot they were due today and was wondering if you could...help me out…” You pause, annoyed beyond belief. But to outsiders, your meek exterior remains. People always think they can step on you, but it’s not like that at all. “Sorry. We didn’t get them,” you lie and fortunately, he can’t read your mind. Jung Hoseok doesn’t know that you got them two weeks ago, that you finished them a few days after and it’s sitting in your backpack right now. “Oh, cool. But think you can help me—” You stand abruptly. A grin spreads into your face and you wave your arm towards the entrance, completely looking past the fuck boy that is Jung Hoseok. “Namjoon!” Your shout is too loud for the silent space of the library, and a few turn around to stare. The librarian recognizes you and doesn’t mind the one time offense of being noisy. The boy you’re signalling comes tottling over with his own smile, books in hand, backpack swinging on one shoulder, pushing his thick-rimmed glasses up the slope of his nose. “I saved you a spot.” You motion across from you before glancing at Hoseok and shooing him away with an innocent question, “Are you moving?” At the same time, someone weaves through the bookshelves. A tall, pretty female comes out and by her long black hair and shorter skirt; you recognize her as Krystal. She lolls her head to her shoulder. “Hey, Jay. Are we going or what?” “Oh yeah. Hold up.” He gets up, tucks the chair in before the librarian yells at him. He throws an arm around the girl’s shoulder and as Namjoon gets settled down, the female looks at both you and him in equal disdain. “Who did you talk to?” she murmurs, but you hear it loud and clear. Hoseok shrugs, walking away. “Thought she was in my class.” You and Namjoon are nobodies and while you don’t know how he feels about it or if he has an opinion at all, you personally like it that way. You enjoy being on the down low, living a discreet life and not drawing any unnecessary attention to yourself. “Was he bothering you?” Namjoon pulls out his notebooks, stealing a peek at you. A scoff is pulled out of your throat. “No. He just interrupted me in the middle of solving a question. Speaking of which, I don’t really get number nine. I’m really confused on the concept of trisomy and disomy and figuring out ploidy numbers. I don’t get how the answer can be b and not a.” “Okay, wait.” He softly laughs, practically dumping his backpack out on the table in haste. “Let me get out the booklet first.” The two of you study together, getting halfway through the booklet. Namjoon happily answers your questions and clears up any confusion you might have. While he waits for you to finish a question, he works on calculus homework that you’ve already completed and you help explain some things that he’s unsure about. But as you continue working, the boringness of biology begins to submerge you. At some point, you become drowsier and your brain wanders against your will out of sheer boredom. You imagine being pushed against the bookshelves, uniform skirt pulled up, someone’s hand cupping over your mouth to muffle your sounds as they start to rub their crotch all over you, humping your ass— “Y/N!” Namjoon shouts your name louder than he’s supposed to, shocked, and you come crashing down to reality. Some people turn around, startled, and they only return to their work when they realize nothing’s happening. Sorry. The boy sighs, red in the face. He shifts uncomfortably while you gingerly rub your thighs together beneath the table. A few seconds pass. He swallows hard, flipping through a few pages of his textbook and decides to speak his mind, whispers lowly, “Why...don’t you try porn?” What? What do you mean? Like watching porn? No one knows the private conversation that’s happening in the corner of the library. “Maybe that can...help with your situation, so you can feel less…..horny...all the time.” Oh my god. Don’t say that word out loud!!! And you thought I haven’t tried?! I just...don’t like it. Most of the time, it goes too quickly and it’s too cringey and cliché and I’m not a fan of close ups of...genitalia. For your information, I’ve tried writing erotica too, but I couldn’t finish. I’ve tried, thank you very much. You slump in your seat, cheeks warming as you admit these thoughts. Namjoon nods, finding your arguments fair. He tries to search for a solution to your predicament. “Have you ever tried...you know….relieving yourself?” Sometimes. You remember those late nights after your parents have gone to bed. In the darkness of your bedroom, you like to put your soft pillow between your thighs and rock back and forth to release some tension in your body. You stifle the sounds with your blanket, but often times the pillow isn’t enough and your hands always go to your shorts, rubbing the spot that makes it feel good— Namjoon’s hand suddenly propels forward, latching onto your wrist. He lowers his head until his forehead is practically pressed on the pages of his notebook, eyes unable to meet yours. “Can you please stop thinking about it?” he harshly whispers, begging you. Immediately, you’re mortified. You let the thoughts slip. Namjoon knows how you get yourself off now. I can’t help it! You feel less like a teenager and more like a hyperactive rabbit in need of reproducing. These primitive urges overwhelm you and while you’ve restrained yourself in a physical manner, it’s difficult to get your thoughts in control as well. But you were supposed to be safe in your own head. Merely thinking and not acting was supposed to be good enough. You think I’m not frustrated either?! I don’t need these distractions in my life, okay?! I’m just trying to get into uni. It’s your fault for reading my mind all the time. Can’t YOU just stop?! “I can’t either,” he argues back, huffing with a frown. It becomes silenced. A grimace has permanently made its mark on your features. Your mechanical pencil digs roughly against the paper as you move to solve the next question and do the proper calculations. But it snaps with the force of your hand and you groan, pressing the end to bring out more lead. You force yourself to focus and keep answering. But no matter what you do outwardly, Namjoon can still hear your internal self — he knows you’re angry with him, angry with yourself. Five minutes pass before the boy can’t take it anymore. He lifts his chin and finds the furrow of your brows. “Y/N.” “What.” Your tone is short, curt, decorated with a slight pout. The corner of his mouth tickles, threatening to tug a bit. Namjoon takes a deep breath to prepare himself. Unlike him, you can’t hear the thoughts in his mind. He has to physically say out the words. “What if I helped you?” You raise your chin, locking your gaze with his, befuddled. “What?” The boy in the gawky glasses, awkward movements and oversized uniform moves closer, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, whispering lowly in a rumbling timbre, “I mean….what if we get it done and over with. You know...get over our primitive needs. Then none of us need to ever think about it again.” It’s like the pair of you are exchanging secrets under a blanket after building a secret fort together. You’re leaning over the table, nearly bent over and he’s moved his torso on top of the surface as well. But you still don’t get it, eyes blinking at him. “What are you talking about?” “You know—” Namjoon doesn’t want to say it out loud. “—that one word. Three letters. Starts with an S. Ends with an X.” Sex?! Your mind goes completely blank for a full three seconds. You. You want to have sex with me? “No-...yes….I mean…” He’s embarrassed that you thought about it so bluntly. If only the passing librarian knew that the two studious students in her library were talking about having sexual intercourse and not biology or mathematics, she’d faint. “I think about it too sometimes and...a lot a-actually...yeah...it doesn’t have to be a big deal, is what I’m saying. I mean we can get it done and over with. Do it once and get it out of our system….” You’re aware Namjoon isn’t acquainted with many girls. So this is a mutually beneficial agreement. A win-win. It doesn’t sound like a terrible idea. Don’t you want to wait for someone special though? “I-It doesn’t really matter to me,” he murmurs, stuttering and he’s fumbling with his words in a way you’ve never seen before. Somehow eloquent Namjoon has been reduced to the word ‘I mean’, repeating them over and over again as he shrivels up in shame. “And I mean...we’re friends. I mean, unless...unless y-you want to wait for someone special.” I don’t think I have time to be with someone special. Of all the fantasies you have, you honestly can’t imagine getting into a relationship. You have your priorities and the idea of going on dates is kind of cringey and awkward. But what strikes you in his offer is that— We’re friends? Namjoon’s face has gone red from his chin to his hairline. It’s endearing. And your thought makes the colour of his flushing skin deepen in hue. “I thought we were.” No...we are. But you’re about to become friends with benefits instead of normal platonic friends. “Do it once and get it out of your system?” you verbalize your words, making sure that you have it right. “Yeah, what do you think?” Namjoon searches your expression carefully. It’s not a bad proposition. Very realistic and maybe even responsible of you. Do it once and you can set your mind straight. You’ll be able to focus on what really matters and no longer have these futile delusions. Considering he has no experience like you, it’ll probably suck and that’s not such a bad thing either — your fantasies can stop after you’ve gotten a taste of reality. You don’t think of anything. You don’t say anything either. You simply nod. Agreeing. // The house is silent — for the most part. There are noises of thumping from above, footsteps thundering on the carpet that interrupt the otherwise quiet study session. Paper, notebooks, textbooks and worksheets are sprawled all over the table with pencils and erasers. You’re working hard on memorizing diagrams while the person across from you is pressing chains of numbers into their calculator. No sooner does your mom come prancing down the stairs, bag slung over her shoulder. “Y/N? I’m going to wor—...who is this?” She stops mid-step despite being late, eyes growing wide at the strange boy sitting at her dinner table. “Hmm?” You lift your head from your notes, playing it off nonchalantly. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. But, this is Namjoon. He’s a classmate. We’re just doing some biology review together since there’s a midterm coming up.” “Hello.” Namjoon gives a polite smile like a picture perfect son. “Nice to meet you.” “Kim Namjoon?” she questions, tipping her head to the side. Your brows raise. “You know him?” “Yes! I used to be close to your mother when you were in sixth grade and there was that school bake sale with Y/N and a whole bunch of other kids.” Her stern and defensive expression melts into a soft look, smile adorning her face. “I almost didn’t recognize you! My goodness, you’ve grown up so much! I remember when you were only this tall.” Her hand comes up to about her waist. “You always wore this blue Mickey Mouse hoodie around and you loved dinosaurs. I haven’t spoken to your mom in so long. Is she doing well?” “Yeah, she’s good.” He smiles, happy that his eleven-year old self made such a lasting impression. “Mom, aren’t you late for work?” You twist yourself all the way around, trying to get her to leave. She was embarrassing you and Namjoon knows — it makes him grin. Your mother is reminded and she whips her neck around to the clock then quickly moves to the foyer, grabbing her car keys and slipping on her shoes. In her rushing circumstances, she doesn’t even take a moment to consider the repercussions of leaving a teenage boy inside her house alone with her daughter. After all, he’s sweetheart Namjoon — what could he possibly do to you? “Right! I should get going. Your dad’s home in a few hours! If you get hungry, there’s food in the fridge and pizza in the freezer! Go heat some up for Namjoon. It’s not everyday that we have guests, so we shouldn’t leave them hungry!” “Got it. Bye!” The door slams shut and you turn back around with a sigh. “Sorry about that.” “It’s okay.” He returns to his work, finishing up with a question. There’s an extended pause, the sounds of pencil scratching the paper filling the silence before you ask, “What does she think?” You’re curious, wondering if she suspects anything at all. “She thinks I’m sweet.” Namjoon grins and you realize he has slight dimples in his cheeks when he does so. “And she’s glad you have a friend.” You scoff. Too bad your mom doesn’t know that this sweet boy she remembers as a sixth grader is about to fuck her daughter. The thought has Namjoon choking on air, sputtering on his spit, but neither of you say anything out loud, focusing on finishing up instead. In the next twenty minutes, you shut your textbook. Done. There’s only one thing left to do before he’s on his way. “Should we—….” “Yeah, I think we should…” It’s time to learn some real biology. “Okay.” You stand, showing him to your bedroom and he picks up his backpack along the way. “You got the goods?” “I got some goods that’ll help, I think. When’s your dad coming back by the way? I really...don’t want to be killed.” “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. We got like...three hours. But I doubt it’ll take that long.” More like three minutes. “Hey.” He gives you a look, pouting. You’re sheepish. Sorry. Namjoon enters your room while you apologize for it being so messy. You had actually cleaned it up and one read of your brain, he knows you tried hard and tells you it’s fine with a smile. He takes in the space of your bedroom, realizing it smells like you and he lingers awkwardly, not sure what protocol is. The only female bedroom he’s ever been in was his older sister’s and this was definitely not the same. He ends up following your lead, sitting beside you on your bed, right at the edge of your mattress. “So…” “What first?” “I don’t know.” It’s terribly, terribly awkward. You begin to second guess everything in your life that led up to this point, but you quickly calm your nerves and after some discussion, Namjoon ends up leaning against the headboard and you’re sitting in his lap stiffly, hovering over his thighs. “You can sit down properly. You won’t crush me or anything, so don’t worry about it.” “Okay.” But you’re still tense in his lap. Namjoon keeps his hands to himself, arms right by his side. He gulps and clears his throat. “We should probably kiss...right?” “Right. Um...have you kissed anyone before?” “No. You?” “Once,” you answer. “I think in Kindergarten while lining up for the water fountain, this kid turned around and our mouths kind of...hit each other.” “So no then.” He laughs and the sound eases your nerves a little. He swallows a mouthful of spit and his eyes flicker down to your lips for a second before going back into your eyes. “You wanna?” “I guess.” You shrug. “If we’re going to do it, might as well kiss. C-can I take this off though?” Namjoon nods and you carefully slide his thick-rimmed glasses off his face, leaning over to set them on the nightstand by your lamp. With a deep breath, you settle yourself back down onto his thighs, psyching yourself up. Okay, okay. You can do this. You can do this. It’s not a big deal. “You don’t have to be nervous,” he whispers and you nod. “Is it okay if we….” “Yeah. Just do it.” “Well...y-you should close your eyes.” “S-sounds good.” You shut your eyes tight, hands curled into fists and breath hitching in your nose. When it takes too long, you begin to move forward. Unbeknownst to you, Namjoon is stealing a moment to stare at you, your features, lashes, lips, how your face is cutely scrunched up. He smiles and subdues his own nervousness, fluttering his eyes closed, leaning forward. The boy tilts his head slightly to the left and he misses. Namjoon ends up at the corner of your mouth, near your cheek and when he realizes, he positions himself and finally, your lips graze. You keep your mouth sealed tight like a toddler who doesn’t want to be fed carrots. He presses against your lips lightly and you muse how plush it feels. Namjoon moves away after three seconds and you exhale, lids opening. “Like that?” “I think so. M-maybe...more though.” “More like how?” He frowns, not understanding and you stutter, unable to speak. “U-Umm…” Longer? Maybe open our mouths? Don’t they french kiss in the movies? Aren’t tongues supposed to touch or something? Or is that gross? I don’t know. Luckily for you, nothing needs to be said. Namjoon can read your chaotic thoughts and he goes ahead, trying one more time. He goes slowly enough that it gives you enough time to close your eyes again and he presses against your mouth, a bit harder and for longer. This time, it’s not just a graze. His nose bumps into yours and you help him by tilting your own head. It’s soft, Namjoon landing multiple pecks on your lips as if he’s trying to kiss a boo-boo away. It tastes like moisturizing chapstick, waxy and a hint of vanilla. You finally breathe once you can’t hold your breath any longer. In the meanwhile, his hands come up to gingerly hold your cheeks, palms cupping your skin, keeping you in place. You feel your body begin to relax, muscles no longer seizing and you settle more into his lap, feeling something weird poke at you from underneath. You’re unable to pinpoint it when he pulls away. “Better?” “Y-Yeah…..that was better. I think….we should try again…just to make sure we got it right.” “Yeah...okay...alright.” It’s more intimate than you expected. You never imagined being this close to Namjoon to the point where you can feel his own body heat, have his warm breath tickle your skin, count his lashes, see the crevices of his dimples. But you don’t get to dwell at how awkward this all is when he goes in for a third round. This time, your lips are parted and his are too. It’s less tense and uncomfortable and the boy has gained more confidence, tiling his head at a better angle. He kisses you, locking your mouths together and as you exhale, he inhales. You don’t realize your hands have lifted to the back of his neck and how he’s pulled you closer onto his lap. Namjoon pushes harder. It’s sloppy, but also eager and more curious. His tongue prods at the seams of your lips and it draws a noise at the back of your throat. He hums back, vibrations pleasant. It’s warm, slobbery and wet with spit. With the two of you inexperienced, you’re sure this isn’t exactly right. It’s weird. But also not bad. He breaks away after a minute or so and you use the back of your hand to wipe your mouth that’s wet with his saliva. Namjoon takes one look at you, reads your thoughts and smiles, glad that it wasn’t too atrocious. “W-what now?” “I mean….do you wanna take off your clothes?” “Uhhh…..” “We don’t have to. I mean….we only need to take off our pants and underwear. I’m fine with anything if you’re fine with anything. W-we can stop if you want. N-no pressure.” “Um….I’m fine with taking off our pants.” And our underwear. “Got it.” Namjoon stands, fumbling with his pants, hands trembling, and you look away, slipping off your own before deciding to just go for it and taking off your panties with it. You’re surprisingly slick, crotch area of your underwear ruined and you push it off your bed to deal with later. “I got some stuff.” He digs into his backpack, coming out with three condoms and a bottle of aloe vera gel. You eye it and he explains, “It’s supposed to be a lubricant...so you don’t get hurt…” “Can that go up my….coochie?” The last thing you want is to get an infection because of some boy or worse, go to the ER. You wouldn’t know how to explain that to your parents. “Don’t worry. I googled it.” “You’re prepared, Kim,” you banter, making for a more light-hearted atmosphere. He grins and you keep your eyes trained on his, refusing to look down to his pants-less legs and crotch area. But he knows what you’re doing and becomes insecure by your refusal to look, cheeks becoming warm. “You don’t have to be scared. It won’t hurt you or anything. Do...you want to try touching it?” For fear of creating a misunderstanding, you brace yourself and look down. Namjoon’s cock is completely hard, red and somewhat curved, a clear liquid oozing from the tip. It looks like a deformed sausage for lack of a better term, but also not so much. While it’s not the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen, it’s an intimidating, good five inches. “S-sure.” Your hand reaches out, circling around his member lightly. It’s not as hard as you thought it would be, skin kind of soft and fleshy. He laughs, asking you what you imagined it to be like and you shrug. Curious, you try giving it a squeeze and immediately, Namjoon tenses. You look up at him, gauging his reaction. “Does that feel good?” “Uh-huh.” He nods, releasing a held breath. Suddenly, you feel a surge of power ricocheting through your veins. His prized possession was in your hands. You have the ability to bring him to pleasure or make him suffer. The ideas swirling inside your head makes him swat your hand away, a bit scared. You grin at him, stifling back a laugh without knowing just how you were riling him up. Namjoon tries to calm himself down before he busts all over his legs, standing in the middle of your room. Luckily, his dick is not as obscene as other dicks are in porn videos. And you don’t feel disgusted, per say. You just don’t know how that’s supposed to go inside of you. There’s no way. “It’s not that big. Average actually. It’ll probably fit,” he reassures you. “Ummm….you can lay back if you want.” “Okay.” You feel comfortable enough around Namjoon to get on your back, head plopping down on your pillow and your hands gathered at your stomach like you’re about to be lowered into your grave — something you’re pretty sure is not off the mark. Namjoon makes no comment on your metaphor, grabbing the bottle and condoms and climbing onto your bed, sitting back on his knees. “D-do you want me to….do o-oral on you?” The thought of his mouth on your private parts makes you flinch, worried about a hundred different things, if you smell bad, if you’ll taste bad. The onslaught of concerns makes him blink hard, caught off guard. “I don’t have to. I don’t mind...about anything, so you don’t have to worry.” “Maybe later,” you mutter and he nods. “Then should we…?” “Yeah. Go for it.” This was unlike all your fantasies — this was very real. You were beginning to get super nervous, more so than before. And Namjoon doesn’t seem as composed as he makes himself out to be. He nearly drops the bottle of aloe vera, but manages to get it open and squeezes a generous amount on his hands. “Can I—” “Sure. Go ahead. You’re going to have to eventually touch it, right?” you laugh stiffly, trying to play it off and he nods. Namjoon shuffles forward, swallowing hard. His other hand gently touches your propped up leg and slowly, he spreads your thighs. He seems to stop for a moment, staring at your pussy and you feel an urge to cover your face up with your hands. The boy says nothing and simply begins to rub the lubricant all over your folds. You jolt at the foreign sensation, of someone’s hands on your body, and he instantly stops. “It’s cold.” “Oh. Umm..” “It’s fine. Just keep going.” “Yeah, okay.” Namjoon squeezes the bottle again, getting a handful and he rubs his cock up and down, body shivering as he does so. He halts after two strokes and returns to dumping half of the aloe vera into his hands. You shiver as his fingers touch against your slit, how he rubs up and down, everywhere he can get his hands to. It makes you feel hot inside and out. But he puts so much on that it’s beginning to feel more like he’s trying to frost a cake than touch you. “That’s...a lot, Namjoon.” “I just don’t want you to get hurt,” he insists in concern and makes sure to get the aloe all over your pussy to the point where you don’t even need your own slickness, pink slit covered with a thick layer of transparent gel. “Okay, I think that’s good.” “Wait. Don’t you need to put on your condom?” “R-right, almost forgot about that.” “That’s a really important step,” you giggle and watch as he fumbles with the condom package. Ten seconds and he still can’t rip it open. It’s excruciating, so you prop yourself up by your elbows, taking it from him. “Sorry. It’s the aloe. It made my hands really sticky.” “It’s okay.” You hold yourself back from laughing, but it spills past and he begins laughing too, running a hand through his hair and accidentally getting gel in it. It makes you laugh harder and you finally get the package open. “Wait, aren’t we supposed to roll it on?” “I think so.” “Do you know how to put on a condom?” “No. Do you?” “How would I know?” “Well, I don’t.” You try to help him roll the condom onto his cock. With Namjoon’s sticky hands and your inexperience, it’s an absolute mess. The pair of you are gathered together, fumbling with his dick, trying to get it on like you’re attempting to make balloon animals. “Wait, let me pinch it. I don’t want you to accidentally pinch my foreskin!” You burst out into laughter and he laughs too. “Oh my god! I’m not going to pinch your foreskin!” “We never know what could happen!” he argues back lightheartedly and manages. “There.” But before Namjoon crawls over, he dumps the rest of the bottle of aloe onto his condom, dousing it from the tip to where his hair is like it’s free fondue. Lo and behold, after twenty minutes of poorly attempted foreplay and a lot of lubricant-applying, he’s finally between your thighs, positioning himself….or at least trying to. You lift your head slightly to look at him. “Maybe we should stop and go watch a tutorial.” “No, it’s fine. It’s just...a lot lower than I expected.” “Where did you think it was going to be?” “I don’t know. Higher up. Here, I think I got it.” “Wrong hole, Namjoon!” you shriek and he stops, apologizing a thousand times. This was going horrifically, but also extremely hilariously. You have mixed feelings in general, but your thoughts begin to quiet down when he finds your hole, spreading your folds enough that his single finger can enter. You shiver, feeling weirded out by it. It was more like an examination than anything sexual, but you don’t dwell. “Okay….I think I got the tip in place. Ready?” You nod. “Go for it.” It’s slippery, so much lubricant that you his cock brushes back and forth until it finds its place and you barely feel any rough intrusion. Instead, it slides in smoothly and you inhale a sharp breath, flinching upwards. It’s a strange discomfort in your gut. It burns and feels like someone stuck a medical instrument into your intestines. Huh. Namjoon, on the other hand, is having a very different experience. He’s shaking above you, eyes shut tight, unable to read your mind when he’s beginning to break into a sweat. He stops halfway and forces himself to look at you. “D-does it hurt?” “N-not really. Kind of uncomfortable.” “Want me to stop?” “No, it’s okay. You can keep going.” “F-fuck,” he curses and obliges, moving all the way in until he’s balls deep and your knees are bent, thighs parted by his sticky hands. It’s weird, but you’re glad he’s having a good time. “I don’t think I’m going to last long. You’re so warm and t-tight…” “It’s okay. Knock yourself out.” “You sure it doesn’t hurt?” “I’m good. You dumped that bottle on me, so...yeah…” Namjoon nods, unable to get anything out but a groan when you squeeze around him. He chokes on air and at your approval, goes in for a thrust. He moves his hips back and then yanks forward, eager and excited. It burns and you flinch, not sure if it hurts or doesn’t. This isn’t as amazing as you thought it would be — quite un-life changing actually. If anything, you were more turned on by how much Namjoon was turned on. You just wish he kissed you again. You liked that. The second the thought crosses your brain, Namjoon leans forward, seizing your lips with his own and fulfilling your desire. You moan against his mouth, tongue taken by his in a sloppy yet earnest matter that has your belly tickling and fluttering, chest warming up. It feels nice, you decide. And your core clenches, lower stomach tightening. Namjoon chases after the way your warm pussy tightly hugs around his covered cock, thrusting once and he cums without warning. He merely groans against your mouth and you hug him close to your body, feeling the way he breathes heavily, the way he moans lowly. It takes a good five seconds and then he’s slumping over your body, weight heavy but comforting like a blanket. “S-sorry…” Namjoon apologizes the second he comes to his senses. His breath tickles your neck and you smile, running your hand through his hair. “It’s okay. I’m glad you had a good time. It wasn’t too bad for me.” Namjoon rolls over, slipping out of you. But before you can get up or he can clean up the mess he made, his hand lowers to your swollen cunt and he slides his pointer and middle finger in the pool of gel. He strokes up your slit a few times and then he slips himself into your tight hole, feeling against your velvet walls. “N-Namjoon,” you choke out his name and he smiles, getting to his knees. He curls his fingers against your walls, a bit carelessly and clumsy, but with enough enthusiasm and observational skills to gauge what your spots may be. You moan, withering against the sheets. “W-wait…” His other hand lifts and goes a bit higher than your slit. “Is it here…?” he asks for confirmation, recalling the diagrams he’s filled out before and watching your expression carefully. Your fingers latch onto his wrist and you shift him into the correct position, right where your clitoris should be. Namjoon hums in acknowledgment and begins to fiddle with his fingers, rubbing circles, pressing hard, twisting his wrist while his other fingers curl inside your vagina. You sob his name, back arching, and he muses how pretty you look like this. Unfortunately with his hands on your clit and the way he’s carelessly rubbing, he’s unable to admire the view for long. Your toes curl and a burst of electricity runs its way through your body, making you seize, left leg kicking out slightly. You cry, spots coming into your vision. It’s warm from your feet to your head, every part of your body. When you come to, Namjoon’s excitedly grinning at you. “How was that?” Not bad. That last bit was better, to be honest. “Was it all you had fantasies about?” No. It wasn’t terrible though. Kind of meh. He nods, laying flat on your bed and staring at the ceiling. You also take a moment to process everything that just happened. Though before you can doze off, Namjoon looks at you. “Should we try one more time? Just….just to see if it could be better or not. I mean...might as well since we’re both here.” It’s not a bad offer especially considering that this is supposed to be a one time thing to get it out of the system. He was right — you were here, so was he. There was never going to be an opportunity like this again. You should make the most out of it. You smile, eyes glimmering in mischief. “I don’t mind, but can you go for another round? You really tired yourself out there.” Namjoon scoffs and rolls on top of you, pinning you to your mattress. “We’ll see about that.”

That should be it. You know Namjoon can read minds. He knows you’re a closeted freak. A secret for a secret. The two of you have had sex too, shared your first times together. You’ve gotten all urges out of your systems, diminished your whacky libido. There’s no reason for any more interaction or conversations to be exchanged. You can both lead your own separate lives, pursuing after your long-term educational goals of going to university… But you’re weak. Only now do you realize you can’t get over your primitive needs. To your dismay and contrasting to the way you project yourself, you aren’t an emotionless robot who can simply flip off the switch. That single experience, the second and third as well, are enough to make you even more needy than before and now your fantasies have truly come to life. No longer are they groundless delusions created from your inexperienced mind. One taste of the forbidden fruit and you can’t stop. Sitting on the side of health class, your brain begins to take a walk. You recall that third time when Namjoon was curious, experimenting, and pushed you on all fours. Your shirt and bra were discarded beside you, your hands crumpling your wrinkled sheets and his fingertips pressed the small of your back until you were arching for him. He hummed and you were nervous, talking too much about things you don’t remember now and the boy simply laid down and got into place. He slid himself right underneath you and his hands held your waist, lowering your sex right onto his open mouth like he’s trying to eat a massive taco — inexperienced, odd, but not horrendous. You were scared of suffocating him, of having to call the police and having ambulances parked right outside your house for all the neighbors to see; and have news spread around that you accidentally killed a high school boy by sitting on his face. But Namjoon was a freak in disguise too and welcomed it. You sat on him and he mumbled something along the lines of it not being too bad either. You grabbed onto the headboard to steady yourself, legs already shaking as he licked into you, tip of his tongue pushing past your slit and folds, his nose at your bud. His tongue unskilled, technique clumsy. He went too fast, too hard, too much of everything. It drove whines and broken sobs of his name out of you. But while Namjoon was greedy and impatient, he was also excited and eager to please. He’s naturally observant and perceptive, bringing it into the bedroom as well. You remember the strands of his hair tickling the skin of your thighs, the way you cried out his name, how it felt so good that it was better than having actual penetrative sex. And you remember how he began rushing, afraid of your dad coming home and catching the pair of you in this compromised position. The memory almost makes you giggle in the middle of class, but you contain yourself and squeeze your thighs together, feeling your panties becoming wet and sticky. You wonder what it would be like if he ate you out here, in class, maybe on the teacher’s desk. He’d kneel on the ground and kiss his way up your legs. N-Namjoon, you’d choke out his name, grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling the glasses away from his face. Yeah? Hurry, please. Why? I wanna go slower. You taste good. You’re good at controlling your expressions, of wearing a poker face, but unbeknownst to you, there’s a smile tugging on your lips. An outsider might think you particularly enjoy today’s class content. Others who know you better might consider that you’re in a good mood, perhaps daydreaming about something sweet. But there’s someone who really knows what’s going on. Namjoon is sitting across the room and he turns his body slightly. His eyes are half-lidded, lips parted, chest rising and falling, glasses slipping down his nose. The boy is uncomfortable, beginning to sweat at his hairline. He glares. And your smile grows a bit wider. He knows you’re thinking about you and him and you eye his slacks, noticing the tent growing in his pants. Namjoon remains wholly unimpressed by your antics. “The boy’s bathroom, really?” Your eyebrows are lifted and this time, you’re the one unimpressed with him. Luckily the hallways are empty, but he still tugs you in quickly before anyone can see. Are we fulfilling one of your fantasies now? “No, we’re not. And if you want someone to blame, then blame yourself.” Namjoon shoves you into the farthest bathroom stall without remorse. If you were caught together with him in the boy’s washroom, you’re not even sure how to explain yourself. No one would believe it. “Who told you to go remembering all of that and thinking about us?” He turns around and locks the stall. It’s terribly cramped. On one side, there’s toilet rolls and the other is a wall with pencil graffiti. The toilet doesn’t have a cover and it’s dirty. But at this point, the two of you are reckless and desperate enough not to care. “Well am I supposed to forget?” “You’re supposed to not fantasize in the middle of class, Y/N,” he complains and turns you around, pushing his crotch to your ass. Your hands lift to press against the cubicle walls, keeping yourself steady. “Look at the problem you caused me.” You can feel his erect cock right on the crack of your ass and you swallow hard, feeling his breath becoming rougher. Namjoon presses you close to him like it might be enough to get him off. “‘M sorry, I can’t help it, you know that.” “Jinyoung almost saw. I had to cover my lap up with my textbook.” He’s mad and you can hear it in his voice. His hand comes down, fingers pressing on your underwear, rubbing back and forth ruthlessly. “And look, you’re already wet.” “Namjoon,” you moan his name, grabbing his wrist and not sure if you want him to slow down or go faster. “L-Less talking. We should hurry before they wonder where we are.” “No one’s going to wonder.” It’s true no one would second guess the two empty desks in the classroom. The pair of you went out at different times — you supposedly to the counselor and him to go make a phone call at the office. As if to appease you, Namjoon holds the back of your neck and turns your head around. His thick-rimmed, smudged glasses knock against your face but he still kisses your cheek. You don’t know if he missed your mouth or not, if it was an accident, but it’s surprisingly soft and gentle. It sends butterflies to your tummy. The eager boy is hugging you from behind, one arm around your waist. He pulls your shirt out being tucked into your skirt and his hand goes underneath it, shoving your bra up and getting a handful of your breast. His thumb flicks onto your nipple, letting the soft bud pebble underneath his tender touch. You keen into him with a whine and he holds you straight, humming. “You’re so warm and soft. I keep forgetting to tell you that.” “You’re not going to cum just from touching my boobs, are you?” He scoffs and rubs two fingers against your nipples harder, almost pinching. And you jump in his arms with a yelp. Namjoon smiles. “I’m not some amateur.” “Actually, yes, you are.” Your hot breaths are heavy, panting out and your palms press harder against the cubicle wall, searching for some leverage. “If it helps, I am too.” “Psh. I’m gonna fuck you well, don’t worry.” You could roll your eyes to the back of your skull. “That’s a really high bar to set— N-Namjoon!” He’s pressing hard on your clit through your soaked panties, shoving your skirt up. “Pardon?” “N-nothing.” You turn your head around, trying to speed things up. Sneaking out to the boy’s bathroom in the middle of the classroom is not an optimum time to drag out foreplay. “You have a condom, right?” “I’m always prepared.” Namjoon smirks playfully and lets go of you, stepping back to dig into his back pocket. You realize how cold it is without his body heat against you, but thankfully he wastes no time, taking out a condom between his index and middle fingers, flashing it to you like it’s a winning card in a poker game or this is the middle of a Yugioh episode. He does the stupidest things like this that makes you laugh the hardest. “Why are you such a dork?” “Please, you like it.” You watch him rip it open. “Need help?” “I got it.” It’s quicker and easier than the first time, and the second, and the third. He lets his pants drop, rolling the latex on his cock and then helps you take off your panties, stuffing them in his uniform blazer’s pocket. Namjoon takes a hold of your hips and positions you correctly. He moves the tip of his thick cock back and forth on your slit, spreading your slick everywhere and you feel yourself getting wetter. “A-are you going to last longer this time?” Namjoon’s offended and he pouts without you seeing. “I’m getting better. Ready?” “Yeah.” The head of his cock intrudes your velvet walls, penetrating deep and he releases a shaky exhale. It burns less and feels good, filling a space inside you that you didn’t know was empty. The first time, it wasn’t bad. The second time hurt a lot and you both had to stop. No one orgasmed then. But the third time was much better and now, there was not even a mild discomfort. It didn’t hurt at all — he’s stretched you out well enough to take his cock. And he can last a lot longer than three strokes too. “N-Namjo..oon.” “Everything good?” “Yeah…” You weakly nod. He’s holding you, humping from behind, drawing as far back as he can before his hips jut forward, trusting in and you try your best to meet him halfway. The two of you are making a mess, fluids running down your legs, uniforms all wrinkled up. “C-Can you kiss me?” You don’t need to ask twice. He stops and turns your head around, catching your lips as best as he can in this awkward position. You begin to squirm, rocking yourself back onto him. One thing was certain — the kisses have definitely improved. The way he kisses you is enough to leave you breathless and dizzy. You pull away and Namjoon continues to pound from behind you. The obscene sounds echo throughout the washroom, leaking out into the hallway; clapping sounds created when his pelvis meets your ass cheeks. Anyone walking past would know what was going on. It’s also musty, the smell of sweat and sex filling the air. But there’s also the scent of Namjoon surrounding you and it’s nice. You’re not sure what deodorant he uses, or maybe it’s cologne. You can’t exactly pinpoint it. “H-hey…” The boy slows down the pace, remembering something. “What?” “Can you stop envisioning my voice and imagining what I’d say? It’s awkward to hear what my voice sounds like to you in your head.” He rolls his hips slowly, going deeper with the languid speed and it has you crumbling. “N-Nam...joon...s-stop talking. F-faster.” “Why? I wanna go slower. You taste so good,” he whispers, making fun of you and recalling the cheesy dialogue you came up with in your daydream. “F-fuck you.” He laughs, sound gentle and tinkling. Namjoon kisses the back of your neck, right on the nape and he licks his thumb before tenderly rubbing at your clit. Against your will, loud noises spill from your throat and it has him shushing you. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip, entire body jostling with how he goes faster. You’re scared of someone coming in — but the risk is exciting at the same time. Namjoon can read your thoughts and he gets off on your fantasies too. You imagine what it would be like if the bell rang, if a bunch of kinds came in, pissing in the urinals, washing their hands at the sink, talking and goofing off. They wouldn’t know what was going on behind the thin wall of the cubical except that there were two pairs of feet right by each other. “Nam...too-...too much...” He’s rubbing too hard at your clit, forgetting to measure his strength, overexcited with your imagination and it’s too late. The tension in your lower stomach finally tightens and snaps. Your toes curl and you sob his name louder. He cups your mouth with his hand, muffling your shriek. Your eyes shut tight and you clench around him. The boy groans lowly, sound vibrating and you hear mumbles of your name. His chin is propped on your shoulder and he thrusts twice, sloppy, milking your orgasm and he cums too. Namjoon is still hugging you close as you both catch your breath. Eventually he slips himself out and lets go. You turn around. “That was….better than last time.” He grins, dimples marking his cheek, strands of his hair sweaty. He slips off his condom. “Next time will be even better.” Next time? You’re fixing your bra and shirt, pulling your skirt down again, but the thought in your head is loud and clear. Namjoon doesn’t say anything. Maybe he pretends not to know and you don’t comment either, afraid of questioning how many more times this will happen, afraid of defining what exactly this arrangement is. “We should get back before they actually start wondering where we are.” “Yeah.” You flatten down your messy hair, getting your panties back from him despite them being soiled. As you put them back on with a grimace, you watch Namjoon throw the used condom in the toilet. You don’t think twice as he tugs up his slacks. But then it hits you. “W-wait, don’t flush it down the—” The toilet whirls down automatically. “Shit, too late!” The pair of you are frozen, watching the destruction happen right in front of your eyes. It doesn’t flush all the way down and seems to burp back. The water runs without once stopping. It starts to overflow. “Oh my god.” There’s no choice, but to run. // The chain of things that occur after your little rendezvous with Namjoon would be cause for embarrassment, if only you weren’t so shameless now. It may be because you’ve gotten comfortable enough with him, with sex acts, and because you know he’s equally responsible for everything that happens. As long as nobody else knows and it’s just between you and him, there’s no need to be ashamed. It’s a secret that the two of you share. “Everyone, listen up.” The health teacher, Mr. Bang, claps his hands at the front of class, quieting down the conversations of students. “On Friday afternoon, there was an incident here at this school.” “What happened?” There’s a sea of murmurs that ripples throughout the room and your ears perk, picking up on the girls next to you. “Didn’t you hear? Someone flushed down a used condom in the boys washroom by the science hall that clogged the toilet. It flooded the entire washroom and they had to shut it down for the rest of the day.” “Ew, gross.” “Wait, does that mean someone had sex in the washroom? Ugh!” “Quiet down, quiet down.” The teacher slaps a stack of papers on the desk, gathering the attention back. “There will be consequences for students who engage in anything inappropriate at school. Okay? I just want to make that clear. It’s completely inappropriate and there’s possibility for suspension. We already know who these people are, alright?” For a moment, he eyes Hoseok and Krystal sitting at the side, near the middle rows. Some glance at them too in disdain and disgust. Hoseok finally looks up, snapping back to attention. “Wait, what?” Mr. Bang clears his throat and moves on. “In light of what happened, the superintendent wanted me to review some things we learnt earlier in this course.” There’s a collective groan, but he shuts it down by saying this is what happens when something like that at school occurs. He begins to write it on the board, marker squeaking on the smooth surface. He’s returning back to the sex-ed unit. “Look, I get it, alright? You’re at that age where you went to begin getting closer to people and you want to start experimenting with things. But if you don’t want to get pregnant and birth out a baby that you have to take care of for the next eighteen years, do not have sex.” The students roll their eyes, leaning back on their seat. Few are still alert, most zoning and tuning out. It’s the same thing over and over again, teachers parroting each other, as afraid of kids becoming sexually active as they are of ghosts. “If you don’t want any horrible STIs to follow you around for the rest of your life, do not have sexual intercourse. You don’t know if any of these people have gotten tested! They could have anything. Protection like condoms and birth control are not one hundred percent effective. There’s always a chance it could happen. The best protection is to not do it at all. Don’t risk disease—” You’re one of the many that have stopped paying attention. Actually, your awareness of the classroom has long been removed. The words going in one ear and out the other. Instead, you’re busy sitting next to Namjoon, stealing peeks at him. You’re thinking about getting on the floor, crawling under his desk, fumbling with his pants. What are you doing? Making you feel good. You envision unzipping his trousers, pulling out his cock excitedly, spitting in your palm to stroke him. He’d become harder in your hand, redder, and you’d lean close to kiss the top, relishing in it when you feel him shiver. Namjoon would tangle his fingers in your hair and tug you closer. You wouldn’t know what to do, how to do it, but he’d teach you, guiding your mouth on him. You’d try your best to take him as far as you can go, salivating and slobbering all over his dick. It would hurt your jaw and you’d gag, choke, but the effort would be worth it when he praises you. You glance over at Namjoon in reality, finding him shifting uncomfortably, ears bright pink. A smirk pulls into your cheek. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Namjoon? He turns his head towards you, expression impassive. But you catch his Adam’s apple bobbing and he doesn’t say anything, simply nodding. He no longer protests your active imagination. While it’s still a massive distraction to his concentration, he reads your mind promptly and willingly. You’ve got him wrapped around your finger and you love every second of it. “Excuse me, Mr. Bang?” You approach the health teacher with Namjoon behind you, backpacks on your shoulders, stack of textbooks in your arms. The older man lifts his chin. “Oh! Y/N, Namjoon! What can I do for you?” “We finished filling out the diagrams.” You hand in the sheets of paper of the vagina and penis, perfectly labeled with a small description underneath them. Apparently, this is what the school system thinks is sexual education. “We were wondering if we could go to the library to study for the upcoming physics test.” He nods. “Did you finish everything else for this class?” “Yes.” You smile. “We both did.” The teacher returns your smile. “Go ahead then, just make sure you’ve double-checked everything.” “Thank you.” The two of you leave the classroom quietly, the other students still causing a ruckus for him. The door shuts and you happily skip down the hall while Namjoon trails after you, laughing. The teachers think you’re both very responsible, studious students — goody two shoes and maybe academic friends at best. No one would ever suspect and that makes it all the more fun to break the rules. But while you’re happy keeping these secrets between the pair of you, it’s a shame that no one else knows how attractive Namjoon is. It’s one secret you don’t want to keep to yourself. You wish more people saw what you did. How his awkwardness is actually sweetness and makes him all the more authentic, how his clumsiness is cute, how smart and warm-hearted he is. As he shadows your steps, your thoughts have Namjoon blushing in a deeper shade. He stares at the back of your head, feeling tingles in his chest, unable to resist a grin when you think about how you at least get him all to yourself. The librarian welcomes you, busy stacking and registering new shipment of books in the back closet. This early in the morning, there aren’t any students. You’re free to pick and choose wherever you want to go, but without hesitation you walk to the farthest table hidden behind multiple bookshelves. You both drop off your belongings there and scatter off to the corner. He takes your hand and leads you forward, weaving through the maze of shelves in the back where no one else can see. It’s deathly quiet, enough to hear pins dropping. But in this small space, the noise of soft smacking disrupts the peace. Namjoon kisses you roughly and desperately like he’s trying to get himself off with just this. His tongue is down your throat, his spit entering your mouth. It makes you hot and bothered, Namjoon trying to make you as aroused as you’ve made him. You’ve gotten him riled up after all. It’s revenge. The boy’s glasses knock against your face, but neither of you care enough. His kisses have made you dizzy. “N-Namjoon,” you gasp, pushed against the corner where the shelf meets the smooth wall. He lifts one of your legs, palm pressed against the meat of your thigh. It’s done with urgency, less playful, less talking and more serious and intimate than before. Your eyes stray off, peeking through the shelves and gaps between the books, finding no one watching. Suddenly, he pushes deeper into you, silencing your brain until you think of him and only him. You’re surrounded in his scent, deodorant, cologne, natural sweat. His hands are all over you, tender touches and eager groping with attempted restraint that fails. His broad body shields you away from any potential prying eyes, covering you from head to toe. He tastes like chapstick and you relish in the gentle sounds drawing out of him, grunts and moans, caught in a trance. Namjoon kisses you closer, deeper until you’re overwhelmed. He only pulls away when you whimper. A thin line of saliva catches between your lips, glistening in the light. But you don’t notice when he’s gazing at you in such a way, endeared. You swallow hard, feeling small under his intense eyes. It’s only in reading these thoughts that Namjoon ends up turning away. “We should…” Wait. What? You’re confused and impulsively, you grab onto him, tugging his sleeve. “Are we not going to….?” He grins, dimples creasing on either side of his cheek before he pushes his glasses up casually. “We almost got caught last time.” “No.” The syllable draws out into an unintentional whine. “It’s because you flushed it down the toilet. Who told you to do that?” He laughs, sound tinkling in your ears pleasantly. “You’re so needy.” But Namjoon returns anyhow, holding you and pushing your panties to the side. His fingers play at your slit, tapping gently like he’s fiddling with piano keys. It makes you jolt and he nuzzles into you, knocking his head down, forehead pressed against your shoulder. “C-Can you blame me?” It feels too good. You wish he could touch you all the time. Namjoon reads your mind and smiles softly without you knowing. He mumbles into your shirt, “You’re so cute.” Such a wholesome comment shouldn’t be spoken when the tips of his fingers are spreading your folds and he’s entering you. With two digits, he sinks deep into your leaking cunt until he’s knuckle deep. Namjoon has the audacity to laugh as you choke on air and in retaliation, you weakly hit your fist against his shoulder. He’s amused at how sensitive you still are even after doing it so many times, to the point where you’ve both lost count. “We’re in the library, so keep it down will you?” “Then stop doing that.” “Doing what?” He curls his fingers against your velvet walls, hitting a spot that has you sobbing and pathetically trying to hold back. “You mean that?” He’s being a sly shit, gained too much confidence touching you — but you don’t hate it. He scissors you, thrusting his fingers in and out, twisting his wrist. You knock your head back. If the librarian finds Namjoon fondling you like this with his hand shoved up your skirt, your panties moved to the side, she would be mortified, maybe even getting a heart attack. “You really like thinking about people catching us, huh?” “N-no….” Your objection is weak and he grins. “D-do you want me to...blow you?” He hums, considering it, but the way the member in his pants stir and how he swallows hard is unmistakable. “N-no, I’m good.” His rejection surprises you. You thought any horny teenage boy would jump at the chance. Your fantasies seemed to make him riled up too. “Maybe later, in my room, if you’re okay with that,” he clarifies your confusion as he pets your velvet walls, feeling around like he’s searching for something. It makes your legs tremble. You nod and decide to tease, “You think you’re not gonna last if we do it here?” Namjoon scoffs. “No. It’s gonna take a long time to teach you.” “I’m a fast learner,” you counter. “I know. But I kind of...want you to sit on my face again….if you want….” He’s nervous for the first time in a long while. You piece it together, brows lifting. You want me to blow you while sitting on your face? So like sixty nine? He becomes red in the face, fingers inside of you halting. “Is that bad?” No. Just predictable. Namjoon lightly scoffs, but if you were frank, the plans made you enthusiastic and he knows it too. The boy kisses you, squeezing a handful of your breasts over your uniform blouse, becoming more patient. But you make him pick up the speed and he gets out his condom that he seems to have on hand now twenty-four seven. Both your legs end up wrapping around his waist and while you’re scared of falling or snapping him in half, he holds your weight well while you’re leaning against the wall. He continues to rut against you, thrusting as fast as he can manage. With his thick girth stretching you out so nicely, you squeeze around him, enjoying it when you can make him sputter. After the third time, he’s had enough of your antics and kisses you, deeper, muffling your noises. Books knock against the shelf, several almost falling. Your wetness might just drip down and stain the carpet, leaving your mark with Namjoon’s. The two of you are sweaty against each other, getting closer to your release. “H-Hey….” “Hmm?” “Keep your eyes on me.” You nod, trying your best. But Namjoon can’t hold you up anymore. As his strokes become sloppier, one of your left leg falls when you’re not ready. Your knees buckle and he slips out of you, but luckily, Namjoon catches you in his arms and the both of you burst out laughing. You lean against the wall, he gets himself back in you and you both return to what you were doing before. Namjoon stares at your expression and you lock your eyes into his. He fucks you like he likes you. Finally, his hand moves to rub your clit with his thumb. It’s enough for you to be pushed over the edge and you stifle your sounds against his shoulder, slobbering on his uniform blazer. You clench, hot walls of velvet like a vice grip, clenching around his length. He groans and moves twice before cumming. After a moment of hugging you, he pulls himself out and pushes your panties back to hold in the mess you made. “Don’t throw the condom in the corner,” you chide. Namjoon breathlessly laughs. “What? I was going to put my kids in between the dictionaries for someone to find later.” You weakly hit him, giggling together.

It’s a sunny day, the weather nice and pleasant, warm enough that you don’t need a jacket. With your stomach full of food, you couldn’t be any happier. And your joy is found in the way your steps have a slight skip to them. Namjoon smiles, watching you and matching his walking pace with yours. The pair of you had grabbed a meal together at a fast food restaurant. A reward for doing so well on your biology midterm. While the teacher didn’t announce who did the best, she read the top two marks out loud and they happened to be you and him. You got ninety-five percent while Namjoon scored ninety. The fact that you miraculously did better than him in a subject that you despise has you even more bubbly. The food wasn’t much, but you liked it. Actually, what you really like is being around Namjoon, even if it’s not for sex, even if it’s to do whatever. These thoughts have him grinning. But you don’t notice. “—wanted to die, oh my god.” “I didn’t know she would be there!” he argues back, but the two of you aren’t fighting. It’s humorous banter, created from mortification and disbelief. “What if she found me, some random chick, in her kitchen giving her son a blowjob?! Oh my god.” “You’re not some ‘random chick’. She knows who you are.” He shrugs. “Plus, you like people watching so…” “I do not!” “You know I can read your mind, right?” “Stop!” You hate it. “Get out!” Namjoon laughs. “What I’m saying is that it’s fine. She didn’t find us like that. And if it helps, she actually likes you.” “Well, I hope it was worth it, because now she probably thinks I’m your girlfriend.” The entire time, you ended up talking to Namjoon’s mom and answering her numerous questions like it was a job interview instead of doing the deed. The boy smiles. “I don’t mind.” “What? That I didn’t get to blow you or that your mom thinks we’re together?” “Did you end up looking at what university you wanted to go to yet?” “Oh yeah. I was looking into the admission requirements.” The topic is switched so drastically, but you don’t even notice when it comes to your studies. You and Namjoon made a pact to help each other get into university and it was comforting to have someone help along the way. “Apparently, the math program at MK National isn’t bad. I’ve already done some research onto some profs to take and what GPA boosters there are.” Namjoon laughs. “Wow, so prepared.” “Of course,” you hum back before remembering something, “Don’t take economics, by the way. It’s not as easy as people make it out to be apparently.” “Noted.” The corners of his mouth quirk. “Haseul’s thinking about going into nursing..” She’s one of the few friends that you have. “...so that’s more incentive to me.” Plus, he’s there too. Namjoon reads your mind and grins to himself, downcast head facing his feet shyly. “So you’ve decided on MK National then?” “I don’t know. I’m aiming for it, I guess, but if I don’t get in then I don’t.” “You’ll get in,” the boy reassures. “You’re smarter than I am.” His confidence in you draws a sheepish smile on your face. The two of you are strolling to the bus stop together and while you’ll have to get onto different buses, it’s still nice to traipse around with him like this. At least, that’s what you’re mulling until your daydream is broken by the back of his hand grazing against yours. You glance down before looking away. For the first time in a long time, you’re nervous again. There’s an urge within you to hold his hand, an instinct that tells you that’s the only right way to walk alongside Namjoon. But that’s kind of weird — you don’t know if you should, if that would make things awkward. In fact, you don’t even know what the limits are when you’re unsure of what your relationship with Namjoon is in the first place, friends with benefits or— You’re thinking about it for too long. You’re making Namjoon get a headache. So gingerly, he reaches over while nonchalantly looking ahead, deciding for you. His fingers find your wrist and he moves his hand down, tangling your fingers together, palms clasping, gingerly holding your hand. None of you speak. You don’t like how he can read your mind. But this is one of the few times you appreciate it. His hand squeezes yours — your chest feels warm. // “Are you alright?” Why? I’m fine. Namjoon knows that you overthink. You like to consider every decision that you make, calculating the benefits and the consequences, making plans for your future. Everything is logical to you. The only reason he’s with you now is because of your rare impulse, emotions that you couldn’t handle or control on your own. He’s with you because of your fantasies and lustful daydreams stowed at the back of your brain for no one else to know of. If you controlled your urges, he wouldn’t be a part of your life right now. The realization makes him a bit uncomfortable. He was never a part of your plan, a part of what you envision for your future. For once, he’s thankful for his ability — it’s given him the opportunity to get to know you. But at the same time, he’s disheartened to know that you’ve only kept him around for a few purposes. Aside from that, you like to lie a lot too. He can read your mind. He knows your thoughts are a chaotic train on fire heading straight for hell. Yet, you like to act like it’s all fine. Like nothing’s wrong. But he knows you better than that. He can read you better than that. He knows you better than you know yourself. And Namjoon knows that despite what you might think, he’s just not just a temporary person in your life. “Namjoon!” You’re making a ruckus without being aware of it, standing on the tips of your toes, waving your arm over your head. A stupid smile pulls onto his face and he waves back. People’s heads turn. Your friends are confused and so are his. But you don’t seem to care, happier to see him than being mindful of your surroundings. He can see the way your eyes always light up when you find him in the crowd. He notices the way you like to ramble about your day to him. “—finished my paper. But I can’t believe she assigned me to edit Hoseok’s paper. He only had one paragraph done. And I couldn’t even read it! His writing doesn’t even look like chicken scratch. It’s like he wrote it while on the toilet using his toes.” Laughter bubbles up his throat. “Well, not everyone is Miss. Prepared like you are. Did he at least edit your paper?” “No.” You pout. “He gave it back and told me it was perfect.” His gaze on you softens. “It probably was.” Namjoon catches on before you even know yourself. You don’t need to say anything. He already knows how you feel about him — and this knowledge makes him more giddy than he’d ever like to admit. // For the most part, you aren’t deprived anymore. A certain someone keeps you satisfied enough to pay attention in class, tires you out enough to make you sleep well at night, placate your endless desires. But still, there are times when you’re bored or sleepy in class and you actively begin to daydream to keep yourself awake. It’s in social studies that your mind begins to wander without restraint, Namjoon not here to turn around and glare or later scold you for making him lose his concentration. You envision a faceless stranger waltzing into the classroom, boots tapping against the floor. This person would stride towards the teacher’s desk in the corner. They’d plop down on the swivel chair, lean back, spread their legs comfortably, eyes sweeping the room. You imagine their gaze would stop on you and the corner of their mouth would tug, hand motioning you to come. He’d guide you to sit on his lap, right on top of his thighs. Your hands would find purchase on his broad shoulders. After you’re settled, he would hum in satisfaction and his rough hands would be placed on the dips of your waist, plush lips skimming down your neck, kissing lightly. He’d relish in the way you’d shiver. You like that? The voice is familiar somehow, but you can’t pinpoint it. Y-yes. Please hurry… Why should I? Don’t you like it when people watch us? Look at all these kids looking. They don’t know you're such a dirty girl. Should we show them? Should we do a class demonstration and show them how it’s supposed to be done? His fingers play with the hem of your skirt, tugging it up while he fumbles with his pants, lifting you slightly and pulling down the waistband enough to slip his hardening cock out of his briefs. The way his tip leaks has you swallowing hard, remembering the salty flavour. I-I don’t like people looking, you’d protest weakly, meeting the man’s eyes. He snorts, air rushing out of his nose. You know I can read your mind, right? There’s a pause that lingers — you nearly shatter out of your daydream. What? The person you’re straddling doesn’t answer, lips returning to the sweet spot between your shoulder and neck, hot tongue lapping at it and drawing shudders out of your body. Then he sucks hard, making you cry out. His arms are around you, letting you arch but not shuffle away, pushing you close. He ends up grabbing hold of his cock, squeezing the base and lining it up with your slit. The boy doesn’t wait, shoving his hips upwards and making you sob, feeling your cunt stretch. He fucks into you raw with his red cock. He groans, thrusting upwards a few times before he holds your hips. Ride me, Y/N, he commands and forces you to sink down onto him until he’s balls deep inside of you. It’s enough to have your walls clenching around his girth, for you to moan and tremble. C’mon, you can do it, baby, he coaxes and you nod several times, trying your best. With as much strength as you can muster in your leg, you pull yourself up and drop down on him, swiveling your hips and doing what feels good. The boy helps you too, thrusts moving halfway, praises rolling off his tongue. You’re so cute, he hums, thumb harshly rubbing your nipple back and forth, his hand underneath your shirt, shoved past your bra. Pleasure takes hold, making your vision blurry, but you don’t focus on reaching an orgasm or pleasing him. Instead, something’s taken hold of your brain and while you ride him, you curl your hand into his hair, fingers tugging the strands. You pull his head back and he moans your name. His chin is lifted, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat and you narrow your eyes into his features. Who are you? The faceless person begins to morph under your touch. The fog lifts and you realize it’s not someone random, a mere placeholder of another body, in your fantasy. His hair is dark, matching the colour of his half-lidded eyes staring back at you, dimples marking into each side of his cheek. His glasses sit on his nose, framing his face, accentuating the jawline. For the first time, your imagination’s found a face. It’s— “Miss Y/N.” You come crumbling back to reality, realizing where you are. Your fantasies disperse into thin air. The teacher’s right in front of you, clearing his throat. Everyone’s eyes are on you and the middle-aged man repeats his question, “I was asking you what the branches of government are.” “Judicial, legislative and executive,” you say without missing a beat. The teacher smiles, pleased that you were paying attention even though it seemed like you weren’t. He knows you would never be distracted like some of his other students. “Very good.” He spins around on his heel. “You ought to learn a thing or two from Miss. Y/N, Jung Hoseok.” The student shoots you a glare that you wholeheartedly don’t even register. You’ve lost your train of thought, but it felt really important. For the rest of the day, you’re distracted, unable to focus on anything as you try to trace back to what your thoughts were, replaying what you last remembered. But it’s gone. You’re frustrated beyond belief, feeling out of your element, out of control. But no matter how upset you are at forgetting, there’s no point in moping over lost thoughts. That is until you sleep. It’s at night, laying in your bed, deep in slumber that it all returns. Except this time, your subconscious has conjured something that isn’t sexual in the least bit. You dream of calling out to someone, of watching them catch up to you, how you hold their hand, entwining your fingers together with them without hesitation. It’s oddly intimate. You dream about a strappy, tall boy with gawky glasses and plaid flannels. You dream about soft touches, tender kisses, dimples and doting gazes. In a shock, much like a nightmare — you jolt awake in the middle of the night. You finally know who it is. // “Hey, can I come over today?” you ask in the hall, holding your books to your chest. The tall boy with his gawky glasses takes one good look at you and smiles. “No. I’m hanging out with Jinyoung today.” “Oh.” You turn away, only to steal another glance of him. “Can we….go to the library then?” “Why?” The boy plays dumb, like he can’t read your mind in a split of a second. “C-Cause….you know….” You’re not trying to play coy on purpose, but it’s cute. Namjoon can’t help but be endeared by you. He’s known most people to act differently from their thoughts, people laughing with their friends and at the same time cursing them in their heads. He’s known people internally swearing at him before, teachers that secretly thought he was an idiot, his own parents angry enough at times to think that they didn’t want him as a son. There’s evilness in everyone — dishonesty, backstabbing, two-faced — but when it comes to you, there’s only nastiness in the best sense possible. All you have are dirty thoughts. He loves it. “I don’t.” “Namjoon,” you whine, “you know what I’m trying to say.” He shrugs with another mischievous smile. “Don’t know till you tell me.” The pout on your face does little to persuade him, so with a face lit on fire, you end up whispering, “I-I...want you t..to fuck me.” “Oh.” He nods and pretends to consider it. “But I thought they were doing a presentation in the library today. It’s probably crowded.” “Then how about the boy’s locker room?” you suggest, completely shameless. “Hmmm…..that’s a good place. But I don’t really feel like it.” “What?” Namjoon shrugs. “I don’t feel like it.” “Oh. Okay.” Your head turns to face forward, though the nonchalant act does little to cover up how embarrassed you really are. Still, you easily respect his decision with zero protests. But for the next handful of times, Namjoon completely rejects your advances. He rolls it off his shoulders, purposely acting ignorant and depriving you of all physical contact. It’s confusing and you begin to trace back to what you did. Maybe he was doing this as petty revenge, but you can’t think of anything you did wrong. You don’t understand. On a Tuesday afternoon, you catch him shifting his pants underneath his desk as you purposely daydream. You stare hard into the side of his face, catching on that he’s having a hard time with this sudden dry spell too, but he does nothing afterwards to satisfy either of you. It’s strange. Maybe Namjoon’s just lost interest in you. That would make some logical sense. Maybe you’re boring now that he’s fucked you twenty times— “Hey.” You turn, interrupted in your contemplation. “What?” One moment you’re upright and the next, he’s snaked his arms around you, pulling you into his body. You yelp, but the sound is suffocated against his mouth. Namjoon kisses you in the empty hallway, tongue down your throat. It’s risky. You don’t know why he’s doing this here. The bell’s about to ring. But your brain is silenced. All worries cease. You shut your eyes after a delayed moment, reveling in him. The sly boy takes his time in drinking in your expression. The passionate kiss sadly lasts for the shortest of seconds, only satisfying you for a mere moment. He lets you go just as fast as he held you. And you’re left breathless with swollen lips. The taste of chapstick lingers. “Wh-what was that?” “Nothing.” Namjoon shrugs, back of his hand coming to wipe his mouth, taking your saliva off of his mouth. Okay…. Maybe he didn’t lose interest in you after all. You’re more befuddled than before and more frustrated as well. It doesn’t add up — you must be making him uncomfortable with your sexual frustrations. The thoughts have been swirling around in your brain twenty four seven, purposely at that. You conjure up your fantasies every second you’re in his proximity. Yet, it gains nothing. There is no reaction. You even try touching yourself one night and while it does little to relieve your needs, you tell him through your thoughts the next day, conveying it with your brain waves. Again. Zero reaction. Perhaps he’s lost his ability. Maybe you got too close to him and his brain exploded and he can’t read your thoughts anymore. That wouldn’t be such a horrible thing considering you’d get your privacy back…..but it’s also terrible. The one time you want him to know your needs and he doesn’t. It takes three weeks, nearly a month of no sexual contact, for you to break. And you end up cornering Idiot Kim Namjoon on the way to the bus stop. “W-what’s wrong, Y/N?” Nervous laughter escapes him. You’ve literally cornered him in, metal fence digging into his back, mailbox to his left — there’s no escape. You’re near some poor old lady’s lawn, a bunch of high schoolers causing disturbances. But you don’t care how you look to outsiders. You can’t study at all. And when something begins to impair your academic abilities and your grades, you will stop at nothing to rid of it. “You tell me what’s wrong!” Your foot stamps like that of a petulant child. “Why have you been holding out?” “Holding out on what?” “Sex!” you shriek aloud and those passing by look over with widening eyes. “What?” “You haven’t touched me since the third of this month! Today is the twenty fourth!” “I...I just didn’t feel like it.” “Really?” You eye him up and down, finding it hard to believe. “I get it okay. If you don’t want to. It’s not like I mind. But I feel like you’re hiding something from me, Namjoon. You’re not telling me the entire truth. Suddenly you just don’t want to anymore?” “I kissed you...if that counts.” “That was eight days ago!” The corner of his mouth is shifted up in amusement. “You’ve been keeping count?” “Yes!” You’re unabashed, but at the same time, you want to cry. It’s so confusing that it hurts your head. “It’s just….ugh! I hate you!” “No, you don’t.” “Yes, I do!” You point an accusatory finger at his face, childish. “It’s unfair how you can read my mind like that but I can’t tell what you’re thinking at all! I hate you!” Namjoon smiles softly and it causes your anger to surge. “I just don’t want you to treat me like your sex toy.” “What?” By his sudden statement, you’re left hurt. “When have I ever?” “I need you to admit something to me. That’s why I’m….‘holding out’, okay?” It’s puzzling. Befuddling. You look at him like he’s speaking another language. This game...this puzzle...it’s too difficult to solve. You don’t want to play. “Admit what?” This time, it’s Namjoon who’s cornering you. He approaches, fast steps that end up pushing you against the fence. He looks down and wears a dorky, yet gentle smile. The boy leans down and his warm breath against your ear makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand straight— “You like me, don’t you?” There’s an extended pause. Your breath is halted. You’re ten seconds away from combusting on spot, steam coming out of your ears, body shutting down from mortification. You don’t know if you want to choke him out or grab fistfuls of your hair. “Oh my god….Oh my god! Get out of my head, Namjoon! Get out! Get out! Stop reading my thoughts!” But he grabs both of your wrists, not allowing you to cover your face up with your hands. Namjoon stares at you with the biggest shit-eating grin that you want to smack off. “Why are you embarrassed?” “You’re not supposed to know I like you! How dare you expose me, asshole!” you’re shouting at the top of your lungs. The grandma in the house is about to walk out with her cane and spank you both off her lawn for making such a ruckus. You’re not so discreet anymore, drawing attention from everyone. Though no one seems to particularly care, assuming that it’s just kids joking around with one another or it’s young love and just a minor lover’s spat. His stupid smile is about to break his goddamn cheeks. “So you like me?” You’re trapped and he already knows the answer anyway. There’s no choice but to own up and at least try to scrape up whatever's left of your dignity when you say it. “O-of course I like you. How could anyone not like you?” Namjoon’s heart is soaring in his chest. He giggles, sound bubbling out and gentle. It makes your cheeks grow warmer. “Well good. Because I like you too.” “Y-you do?” Part of you isn’t surprised, maybe your subconscious already knew it. But the other half that was filled with doubts is finally satisfied. You’re relieved. It’s a huge weight off your shoulders. “How could anyone not like you,” Namjoon repeats with another laugh, brushing a strand of your hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. The soft movement has you stuttering, but he steps back soon after, giving you space. “So...so what does this mean?” Is he your boyfriend now? Or is this just a casual thing? What does ‘like’ even mean? Does he like-like you or just like you? Did he just acknowledge you enjoy each other's company? But that’s obvious, of course you enjoy each other’s company. Then...does this mean he wants to pursue some kind of long term relationship? Dating? But what does dating even mean? What do you have to do? What if this becomes awkward? What if you mess up?! “I think….we should go on a date,” Namjoon suggests, calming you down before your brain goes completely haywire. He takes your hand, squeezing lightly with a smile to match. Your thoughts compose itself. “A date?” You blink, letting a few beats pass as everything that’s happened in the past five minutes sinks into you. It’s a lot to process. It’s overwhelming. But also— “That sounds... nice.” He nods and hums a warm note. “And we can see what happens from there. Step by step. Date by date.” It’s more than pleasant. You feel at ease in his company, in the way he knows your overthinking tendencies, how he so easily understands you. But what you manage is a fake scoff. He already knows what you really think. “Who says I’m going on a second date with you? You’re going to have to earn that.” “Please.” The pair of you are walking down the street again, hand in hand. “We both know you’re not going to leave my dick for someone else’s.” “Namjoon!” The clumsy boy laughs, squeezing your hand wrapped around his own. // You’re no longer safe in the depths of your own mind. Namjoon knows what you’re thinking — he can tell your constant poker face is a facade and that every time your brows furrow, it’s not in concentration, but that you’re preoccupied in a daydream. You’ve been invaded, thoughts exposed, but you don’t mind. He understands you better than yourself, helping you make sense of your occasional complicated ideas, appreciating your rather….strong imagination. He also quiets down your mind when it becomes too chaotic. He can stare at you and dive into your brain across the room, chuckling at what he finds. His ability is what bound you and him together after all. But these days, things are too busy to let your mind wander. And that’s okay too. These days, there’s less of an urgency to have constant romps in the sack. These days, there’s less of a rush to spend time with one another. There’s no need to hurry along when you know Namjoon’s here to stay. There’s no need now that the pair of you are together. “Namjoon!” You shout from across the hall, springing up to him on this hectic morning. Yet, you don’t care about the way you draw attention, at how you’re making people stare, how you’re revealing your cover, no longer just the studious girl sitting on the side of class and blending into the wall. You’re wearing a huge grin that is infectious to him. “What’s the matter?” There’s an envelope in your hand. But you can’t spit the words out when you’re gasping, out of breath, having ran all the way here to find him. He’s the first person you wanted to tell. And luckily enough, you don’t even need to speak the words. One good look at you and he knows. I got in. All at once, his eyes widen. His lips part. Then they tug into his cheeks, dimples pressed on either side of his face. Without being able to resist, Namjoon picks you off the ground, tightly hugging you and spinning you around. You laugh into his shoulder, relishing in his embrace, celebrating. It’s a moment between you and him in this busy hallway. No one else hears. No one knows. It’s just a little secret that the two of you share.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #namjoon smut #bts smut #namjoon fanfic

3K notes · View notes

erekiosuncreativeideas · 4 years

Text

Being Human - Chapter 12

<= Chapter 11

Summary : Snatcher has a talk with someone. Also available on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/24826561/chapters/65084764

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

NEW CHAPTER HEEEEY I hope you'll like it ! I managed to work quite well on "Being Human" recently and I finished writing the 14th chapter yesterday (and it's a long one too) ! I had a blast writing the 12th and 14th chapter and I can't wait for you to read it !

Thank you so much for all your support, it means so, so, so much to me. I know I keep repeating this, but this is the truth. Without you, I wouldn't be where I am today.

Fun fact: I will soon draw my 100th drawing on "A Hat In Time" (I'm colouring the 98th one and I sketched the 99th one, I genuinely wonder what the 100th will represent!). I have been extremely productive this year, I think I drew like 150 pictures (in general) from the beginning of 2020 to today. And it's all thanks to you guys !! Thank you so much !

ANYWAY.

The “Oh The Humanity” AU belongs to @doodledrawsthings !

Happy reading !

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Chapter 12 - “You’re bad at telling scary stories.”

-“Here, come this way,” instructed Cooking Cat, as she led him to the machine room, her face serious now that the kids were nowhere in sight.

Snatcher’s expression showed how confused he was, seeing where she was taking him. Why there? He didn’t have his place in this room, and certainly neither did she, unless he greatly underestimated her. If she saw his face, she didn’t say anything, leading him further into the ship instead, stopping in front of a green door with the pictogram of a brush on the centre of it. Where would it lead? A playroom perhaps? A room dedicated to hobbies? After all, with such a huge ship, it wouldn’t be far-fetched to find a room like that inside.

The door opened swiftly revealing -another!- hallway, just as sloped as the others. Oh, this was just great, especially with how he fell earlier. His legs hurt. Well, everything did, but mostly his legs. However, the cat seemed to notice the scowl on his face and offered her paw for him to remain stable.

-“Need some help?” she offered, concern plastered all over her face. Ugh, Gods, did Snatcher hate that expression. It just made him feel even more pathetic than he already was.

-“No,” he spat, keeping his eyes fixed on the slope not to stumble, “I can walk on my own. I’m not a stupid baby, thank you,” he added, his stone still very harsh. Deep inside, he knew the other was just trying to help, but he couldn’t keep the words inside. He was too mad at himself, at the whole situation to care. But, surprisingly, Cooking Cat only smiled at him and pulled her hand back.

-“Okay,” she simply replied and the former ghost cringed at her compassionate tone. Still… This was a very different reaction than what he had expected. The hatted brat would have yelled at him, the other one would have given him a sad look… But Cooking Cat just agreed, not looking different than usual, despite his harsh words.

Somehow… Somehow, it felt like he wasn’t rushed to accept his current “condition” for once. It was a nice change. He knew the little girls had been trying to help him, but this was different, in a way he couldn’t describe precisely.

Great, and now he was feeling bad. Just another negative feeling on the top of all the terrible ones he was already feeling, perfect, fantastic. The former ghost avoided looking at Cooking Cat, guilt eating him inside. This was so ridiculous: he was (used to be…?) a soul-stealing spirit, one that forced people to work for him only to kill them afterwards… And now he was feeling guilty? What the heck?

“This is just this stupid human brain,” he thought grumpily as they walked into the hallway, the cat adapting her pace to match his, not forcing him to go faster than he could. He hated to be pitied that much, it just reminded him that he was less capable than any human… Yet, a part of himself felt grateful for it, no matter how much he was trying to repress it.

Snatcher wasn’t weak, he didn’t want to be. How could he, with an entire village to protect against a crazy Queen? It was his responsibility.

They eventually reached the other door, which opened just as quickly as the first one. The sight that greeted Snatcher’s eyes was definitely not one he had expected. His jaw dropped from the surprise, his eyes glancing everywhere, examining his surroundings with much interest.

It was a gallery. The walls were green, with burgundy columns in the corners of the room. The floor was covered in red carpet, with round, darker patterns on it. A long light green rug was in front of them, starting from the door to the opposite wall. On their left was a pedestal on which was exhibited a bust with a golden, shiny necklace. Just as expected, the room was full of paintings, all very different from one another. Most of them represented the hatted girl, others showed people he didn’t know, or ones he vaguely remembered such as the mafia goons who often wandered in his forest. He entered the room, more than impressed with what he was seeing… Until he found a particular painting that caught his attention.

-“Hey, that’s me!” he exclaimed, surprised. He moved just in front of the painting, admiring it in bewilderment: his previous ghostly appearance could be seen in the middle of the picture, as if he were screaming, though his expression wasn’t a horrified one. The setting seemed awfully familiar to him, as if he had seen another version of that painting somewhere else. Huh. Weird.

Confusion replaced his initial surprise as questions echoed in his mind. However, his lips moved on their own, voicing them as he kept his eyes stuck on the painting before him:

-“Who made that?” he asked, unable to look anywhere else.

Cooking Cat stayed silent for a brief moment, as if to think, before replying, unsure:

-“I don’t know,” she answered trustfully: “I’ve only been here once, to be completely honest. I tried asking about it, but the girls avoided the question. They’re usually pretty talkative, but there are some things they try not to talk about. So… I don’t force them.”

The former ghost remembered what the kids told him earlier, about the war that broke out between their people… If this was something like that, it made sense they didn’t want to talk about it. He couldn’t really blame them, considering he didn’t like to mention his own past. However… This was different: his face was literally on the picture, he was directly concerned by this! He never gave anyone the right to use his image! Really, the nerve of some people, he should sue!

But, as he finally managed to inspect the other paintings as well… He realized that he wasn’t the only one concerned, seeing as some pictures featured other people, like that awfully annoying tourist that always managed to avoid his traps…

For real, who painted those? Certainly not the kids: he had seen their drawings and they certainly didn’t look like that. These paintings were obviously made by professionals, people who knew how to draw and how to colour. What a strange mystery…

Snatcher was brought back to reality as Cooking Cat called out to him softly. He turned in her direction, noticing only now that she was sitting on the floor, patting the spot next to her, as an invitation for him to join her.

-“You’re kidding, right?” he asked, with a mix of confusion and mockery in his voice.

-“Trust me,” she answered, patting the spot harder, clearly insisting. The man looked at her for a few seconds, wondering how naive she could be to think he’d sit on the floor just because he was asked to… But no matter how motionless he remained, she just kept her eyes on his, waiting patiently for him to sit, not pushing him nor rushing him to do so.

Just waiting.

It wasn’t long until her stare made him ill at ease, made him feel like he was ridiculous, just like a child throwing a tantrum at his patient mother. But as soon as that thought came to his mind, he realized this wasn’t really far from the truth, given how motherly Cooking Cat had acted up until now… And he had just admitted he was behaving like a kid.

Now that was just great.

With a loud and frustrated sigh, Snatcher eventually gave in and sat next to her, a clear frown visible on his face. His arms were around his legs, keeping his knees close to his chest. He stared at her with irritation:

-“Fine, I’m sitting next to you. Amazing. What now?” his voice sounded bored and exasperated, but he was actually intrigued, if he had to be completely honest. Why would she take him to this room, only to have him sit on the carpet? As if this was going to help him fight his so-called emotions! Ugh.

Being human sucked.

However, before he was able to say anything else, he felt a powerful tug on the collar of his jacket, pulling him down to the floor. His back soon hit the ground, though not as hard as he thought it would. His head thankfully was stopped by the cat’s paw before any possible impact. Snatcher’s eyes were wide open from the surprise and the shock, looking everywhere as the gears in his mind started to turn. And then it clicked.

Cooking Cat had pulled on his collar, forcing him to lie down, his back against the soft carpet.

-“Hey!” he protested, trying to straighten up once more: “What do you think you’re doi-”

Yet, despite his wish to yell at the other for her over-familiar gesture, he was silenced both by the cat and by the sight caught by his eyes.

-“Hush and look up,” she simply said, pointing at the ceiling, forcing him back down. She lied down as well, putting her chef’s hat aside as she did so. Snatcher stopped moving as he stared at what was above him, speechless with awe. A glass ceiling, one he could see through, one that showed him many stars and planets so, so far away from him and yet so beautiful.

-“What-,” started the former ghost, only to close his mouth, not sure what to say. A lot of conflicted emotions were echoing in his mind, like exasperation, impatience but, most of all, confusion. Why would she bring him here out of every room in the spaceship? Why would she make him lie down to look at Space -not that he’d complain about that last point- ? What was she trying to achieve by doing so? Snatcher didn’t understand and that only made him even more irritated.

Thankfully, Cooking Cat seemed to pick up on his emotions without having him explain them in details. It really was impressive how she managed to read people like open books and, in a way, that made the man quite uneasy. Knowing his heart could be so exposed to someone he barely knew… This was not something he enjoyed.

-“Thought you might like this,” she explained calmly: “I wanted to talk to you in private and, well, we might as well be in the nicest room of the ship, right? Plus… We have such a good view, here.”

Snatcher stared at her, not sure what to answer at first. Yet… He could only agree. They did have a really good view. The stars were all shiny, very distinct from the black, interstellar void. Planets could be seen in the distance, like ants walking on the glass ceiling. Somehow, lying down and watching all of that gave the man the feeling of floating above water, as if he were drifting away and seeing the sky moving. In a way… This wasn’t entirely false, as the ship was drifting away. Still, the sight remained particularly magnificent and very different from what he was used to see in Subcon Forest, even at the top of his tree.

-“There isn’t anything to talk about,” replied Snatcher with a scowl, glancing away. Why would he talk to someone he just met? He would be stupid to do so, especially since he didn’t even like talking to people to begin with. Well, unless they could be useful to him in any way, he supposed. In any case, personal topics were a definite no-no and nothing this cat could say would change anything.

-“Really?” answered Cooking Cat with a false surprised intonation: “I thought you’d like to hear about one of the tales I was told when I was only a kitten, you know, the one about you.”

Okay, maybe Snatcher was ready to talk about some personal topics.

He squinted, wary, eying the cat with suspicion:

-“You’re trying to gain my trust to make me talk, aren’t you?” he accused her, though she only smiled more at his accusations, lifting her paw to her heart to feign being hurt by them.

-“Me?” she gasped with exaggeration: “Oh, no, I would never!”

The man just frowned even more. Yeah, she was totally trying to make him talk. At this thought, he let out a long and loud irritated sigh. Whatever, it wasn’t like he could get out of this situation anyway. He had the feeling the cat wouldn’t let him, especially with how he had behaved earlier. And so, what could he do but to endure this, if it meant he could leave faster and stay alone to mope just like he wanted to? Thus, with an audible and exaggerated groan, Snatcher agreed.

-“Fine,” he grunted, already feeling he was going to regret this, “Hope it’s scary, otherwise keep it to yourself,”

-“Oh, it is,” she confirmed, nodding vigorously: “It kept me up at night many times. We were told that naughty kittens would be taken away by a mysterious spirit called “The Snatcher”, only to be eaten and forgotten by their family.”

The former shade listened attentively, wondering where the story would go. Well, so far, the story was half true. He didn’t kidnap kittens, but he did eat people somewhat, so heh, close enough.

-“So, I was your Bogeyman equivalent, basically,” he interrupted, not sure what to think of that. It was nice to know he terrified children, but being compared with such a ridiculous monster was kind of an insult. His words made his interlocutor laugh though, and she continued telling her story:

-“Ahaha, yeah, pretty much! I used to fake not being scared by it in front of my parents, but as soon as night came, I would always shake like a leaf under my bedsheets. It lasted a few years, I must admit,” she giggled awkwardly at the memory: “But you know, I’m glad I was scared of you as a kitten,” she confessed, glancing back at him with a warm smile.

-“Why?” retorted Snatcher, quite perplexed. Why would someone be happy about something like that? Usually, people would do everything to repress childhood traumas like this, or at least laugh about it later… But being happy about it? This sounded off, if not just wrong.

-“Because one night, I was so scared I couldn’t sleep. And so, I slipped out of bed and rummaged through my parents’ bookcase, doing my best not to wake them up… And then, I found what changed my whole life.”

-“And that was…?” asked Snatcher curiously, still wondering how he could have indirectly impacted someone’s life so much. He disliked helping people, so even doing so without actually wanting to made him frustrated.

-“The first cooking book I ever read,” she told him with, perhaps, the most heartfelt expression he had ever seen: “It wasn’t special or anything, just an old book my mother had kept just not to throw it away… But I was immediately hooked on it. Just thinking about creating something new from completely different ingredients… It’s, woah, you know?”

The former spirit remained silent, not sure how to answer. He wanted to retort something disagreeable, he wanted to shut her up, wanted not to listen to her sappy backstory… And yet, he kept his mouth close, for a reason he couldn’t quite place.

Was he becoming soft?!

Hating the sound of that thought, he just scoffed at her words. Yet, he already knew it wasn’t as sincere as his usual mockeries were. It felt like he was just trying to prove to himself that he was still the horrible and terrifying ghost he had been the last few centuries. This just made him feel ridiculous, ugh.

-“Hey, it’s true!” protested Cooking Cat with a little nudge, though she didn’t seem like she was offended by his attitude. Instead, she seemed to take it lightly, like a joke or something: “I remember that time so clearly. I went down in the kitchen in the middle of the night and I tried cooking something from the book. But not only did I end up cooking something that tasted terrible, but I also woke up my parents in the process!” she started to laugh again, staring into space as she looked like she was remembering it fondly: “Oh, they were mad, really mad, I can tell you that. But still, it made me realize how much I loved cooking and it soon became my dream job afterwards.”

-“Couldn’t have guessed,” he remarked sarcastically, hinting at her own name, which was pretty obvious on that regard.

-“Oh, hush!” she nudged him once more, still mischievously. Her smile faded after a few moments and she let her eyes wander in the interstellar void. Silent fell between the two and Snatcher couldn’t help but imitate her, watching the stars drift away through the window, his ears catching up on the many sounds caused by the ship. The constant whirring of the engine was… Soothing, so much that he almost fell back asleep at some point, only to be brought back to reality as Cooking Cat started to talk again:

-“So, I guess… I wanted to thank you. For existing and for being you, I mean,” she said softly: “Without you, I wouldn’t have become what I am today. Thank you.”

Snatcher glanced away, his expression turning bitter. He didn’t want to be thanked for anything. He didn’t want to help anyone, he didn’t want to be nice, even indirectly! He was a soul-stealing ghost, an entity who had murdered countless of people and had done so without feeling any guilt!

… Well, he didn’t anymore, at least. But that wasn’t the point!

Apparently, his face must have been pretty obvious to read as the cat spoke again, an embarrassed tone in her voice:

-“Sorry, I think I said more than I should have,” she confessed, giving him an apologetic look: “I didn’t want to make you feel ill-at-ease. But, if that makes you feel any better, you did give me plenty of nightmares as a kitten, so that makes us even, right?”

The former spirit only scoffed again, this time much more sincere than the last. Gods, this was so sappy, he could almost throw up because of it… Well, figure of speech, considering that he didn’t really want to experience that out of everything possible from being back from the dead. Still, this was some mushy stuff right there, exactly what exasperated him the most.

And yet, he kept his mouth closed once more. The other waited patiently, not pushing him to say or do anything and… It really felt nice. And while he was still feeling pretty… Bad, it was still better than a while ago. At least, he was calmer and less likely to snap.

It is only at that moment he realized that Cooking Cat’s purpose had not been to make him talk about his feelings… But just make him feel better, if only a little bit, never forcing him to listen if he didn’t want to. Snatcher frowned, though it wasn’t from irritation this time.

He was feeling guilty and he hated that. Why did he have to feel things like that?! However, the former shade did his best to push that thought away, very much aware that this would only lead him to snap again. And so, Snatcher took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he did so. He couldn’t describe how much he had needed that.

-“You know,” he reopened his eyes after a few minutes of silence, “You’re bad at telling scary stories,” he eventually said, the tinge of a smile on his lips.

Cooking Cat smiled back at him, not taking that as an insult… Because it wasn’t really one, in the end. Fortunately, she was observant enough to notice that instantly.

-“I know, I know,” she answered with a short giggle, before continuing, her eyes fixed on his as a more serious expression appeared on her features: “I hope you’ll teach me someday, though.”

The message between those words was clear to the man: “I’ll always be there if you need to talk again, never fear to ask”. Although… He couldn’t deny he was quite hesitant on the matter. After centuries spent without talking to anyone about his -ugh- ‘feelings’, suddenly doing so wasn’t really easy. On the contrary, it was pretty difficult. However, another thing he couldn’t deny was how he felt a bit better after talking to the cat, even if they hadn’t talked about anything related to the recent events. But perhaps it was the reason, maybe he was feeling better because she hadn’t mentioned anything about that, because she had let him choose whether he wanted help or not… And it felt nice, to have his boundaries being respected like that.

He had needed this.

-“Maybe,” he finally replied with a small nod, his eyes fixed on the glass ceiling: “not sure you can handle it, though, I am pretty scary,” he joked, even though it was still a little hard to do so considering how he was feeling at the moment. But it did the job and Cooking Cat laughed again:

-“Oh, don’t worry, I’m kind of stubborn,” she assured him. After a few more moments of silence, she stood up, catching Snatcher’s attention: “The girls must be waiting for us, by now. Let’s go back,” she told him, offering her hand to help him to stand up.

The thought of seeing the brats again after the incident in the kitchen made him quite uneasy, for obvious reasons. It would be stupid to wonder about what they talked about, considering what had just happened. He didn’t really want to see them now, yet some part of him knew that waiting would just make things worse. And as they were the only persons in the world able to revert him to his spectral form… It was best to avoid any conflict with them.

And so… Snatcher took Cooking Cat’s paw, the cat waiting patiently for him to do so. He stood up just like her, his posture tensed as he agreed to her words:

-“Yeah… Let’s go back.”

Whether the bad feeling he had about this was going to become reality or was just the product of his pessimistic nature… He didn’t know yet. But he would very soon.

Snatcher did not look forward to it.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

I had so much fun writing this dialogue when, in reality, dialogue is one of my weak points, alongside writing action scenes. I hope you liked this chapter ! It wasn't the longest one but it was one of them! (7 pages and approximately 3700 words).

I read all of your comments and I love every single one of them. Thank you so much for following me and my fanfictions, thank you for leaving kudos and thank you for leaving such lovely comments. It really means so much to me, I mean it.

See you on the next chapter, take care everyone ! :)

=> Chapter 13

#A Hat In Time #ahit #ahit being human #Being Human #BH #oth #oth au #Oh The Humanity AU #snatcher #ahit snatcher #cooking cat #fanfiction #ahit fanfiction #my art #doodledrawsthings #erekio #erekio bh

26 notes · View notes

eryiss · 4 years

Text

Chapter Six - The Carnival

Summary: Freed and Laxus live incredibly different lives. Freed is a corporate lawyer in the capital city, and Laxus works as a handyman in a countryside hotel. Despite their differences, their lives collide when Freed inherits a house in Laxus’ village, and hires him to make the derelict building liveable. But the closer they get, the more they seem to offer each other. [Fraxus Multi-Chapter]

This was written as my admission for Fraxus Day 2020, hosted by @fuckyeahfraxus. Hope you enjoy it.

You can read this under the cut, on Fanfiction, or on Archive of Our Own. You can find the chapter masterpost here.

Chapter six - The Carnival

Every year in Magnolia, there was an autumn festival. Laxus had never understood why they chose late-October to have an open-air fair, or why they had it on one of the large fields atop a hill, where there was absolutely no protection from the wind and cold weather. Most towns and villages would have their annual carnivals in summer, when it wasn't as cold as balls, but Magnolia wasn't most towns.

Laxus had always been a part of the fair. All stalls and attractions were run by members of the town, other than the fairground rides. As such, the wooden huts and games often needed some refurbishment or fixing, so Laxus was always kept busy. He would get calls from the stall owners if something needed to be done throughout the day, and he would do it for a small fee. In previous years, the autumn fair had been how he financed his Christmas presents. But, by working with Freed, he had a lot more money than he knew what to do with.

He still went to the fair though, just as a visitor this year.

Lisanna had been the one to suggest it, saying that this was the first time in years that Laxus could attend purely as a guest. Laxus had tried to say he wasn't a kid anymore, but Makarov had heard Lisanna's suggestion and quickly went on to reminisce, loudly, about how much Laxus had enjoyed the carnival when he was a child. Laxus had agreed to shut the old bastard up.

It wasn't just the two of the, of course. Mirajane and Elfman had been dragged along with them, along with Cana. Laxus had wondered if the hotel would be understaffed, but apparently Makarov could handle things, and that Laxus should focus on having fun.

There was an odd inflection in his words, as if he was not saying something. Laxus didn't question what.

They had been at the fair for over an hour, and had broken off into two unofficial groups. One was made up of Cana and Mirajane, who were playing games, visiting stalls, and enjoying themselves. The other was Laxus, Lisanna and Elfman, who followed behind Mirajane and Cana while trying to figure out if the two of them were actually dating or not. A question that should be a lot easier to answer than it actually was.

"I mean, that has to be flirting, right?" Lisanna whispered, looking at her sister. "Why would they be touching each other so much otherwise?"

"Your sister's a pretty physical person," Laxus shrugged. "And Cana has boundary issues, maybe they're just like that."

"Physical affection between friends is manly!" Elfman proclaimed, getting shushed at by Lisanna and glared at by Laxus.

He wished he wasn't as invested in Cana's potential relationship as he was. But, she and Mirajane had been spending more time together now that Mirajane was working the front desk regularly, and it was entirely possible that Cana's hopelessly pathetic crush – he might have been kinder about it, but her jabs about him and Freed were getting annoying – might actually have a chance of developing. That, and the carnival wasn't aimed at men in their early thirties, so there wasn't all that much to do.

In retrospect, he wondered how he'd enjoyed the fair so much when he was a kid. Even a child could only find limited joy from placing a fake rat in the end of one pipe and hitting it with a paddle at the other end; or throwing a basketball into a hoop that was less than four feet away.

"I still think they're full of shit," Laxus commented. "They both clearly like each other, but don't have the guts to say it out loud. If they ever actually talk about it, it'll probably be too late."

Elfman and Lisanna shared a look, and Laxus decided to believe it was in agreement at his statement.

"I know you keep telling me that it's impossible," Lisanna said, watching as the two women walked to a hook-the-duck stall; the games at the fair was a yearly reminder of how middle-class Magnolia was. "But what if they've been dating since high school, and just won't tell anyone because they think it's funny?"

"You think Cana could keep a secret for that long? She'd tell me just to piss me off about being single," Laxus countered. "The second they finished in bed she'd be texting me about how good Mira is at licking her-" Laxus stopped himself, remembering who he was talking to. Mirajane's younger brother and sister looked at him with equal parts annoyance and disgust. "Sorry, my bad."

"Laxus is right," Elfman began, and Laxus spoke before he could stop himself.

"About your sister being good at licki-" Elfman pushed him away, making him stumble and laugh.

"About them not being able to keep secrets," Elfman corrected, glaring at Laxus, who grinned in response.

It was always more fun pissing people off who could fight back, and Elfman was one of the few people larger than Laxus. And he kind of saw the other man as something of a little brother, not that he'd admit it of course. What kind of non-biological older brother would Laxus be if he didn't annoy and anger the man at every available opportunity? A crappy one, and Laxus couldn't have that on his conscious.

Although, he'd gone easy on Elfman as of late. Most of that was because Elfman was busy, working at the hotel and the tearooms. But also, because Laxus and Freed had been spending a lot of time together, and pissing Freed off was fun. Mainly because Freed shot back, giving just as bad as he got.

It was a shame he wasn't here, actually.

Freed seemed to be hesitant with meeting Laxus outside of work. After he decided to refurbish and modernise Albion House fully, they had continued with their weekends of working together, while Laxus made progress through the week. And that was good, better than not seeing the other man at all, but Laxus had almost hoped that maybe they would see each other in a less professional, more… fun environment. Not that they didn't have fun in the house. It was just that Laxus wanted a little bit more. Perhaps that was selfish.

But Laxus felt that Freed might want that too. The other man could be obtuse at times, but Laxus had gotten good at reading him; at least he thought he had. He couldn't be sure if it was wishful thinking or not, but he felt like Freed wanted more.

So, he had made a decision. He would try to make it clear that he was interested in Freed without saying it, with some lingering looks or too-long touches. Freed was hopefully astute enough to pick up on things, and realise what they meant. And when he did, which he would, Freed could do what he wanted to.

The ball was in his court.

It was cowardly, Laxus knew that.

It wasn't as if he hadn't tried to expand their relationship, bring their friendship out of Albion House. The day before, he had mentioned that he would be going to the carnival with the Strauss' and Cana, saying Freed might enjoy it; heavily implying an invitation. Freed had wished Laxus a nice day, saying that he needed to get in contact with the historical preservation society to see if he could get planning permission for a kitchen extension around the back of the house.

Had it been anyone else, Laxus might have been crestfallen or annoyed. But, as it was Freed, he was more amused. The lawyer probably hadn't noticed the suggestion he come with him.

Still, it would have been nice to have him come.

Maybe he could help find out if Cana and Mirajane were dating. Hell, he couldn't probably walk up to them and ask, unlike the rest of them. Because, in the unlikely but very possible situation where Cana and Mirajane were dating and were keeping it secret for some weird joke, then the gloating from them finally breaking the trio would be unbearable.

"I think they've forgotten about us," Lisanna laughed. "Maybe we should have some fun instead of just following them around. Play some games."

"Which ones?" Laxus asked. "Only interesting one is the shooting range, and you said we ain't allowed to do it."

"Shooting animals in barbaric."

"It's a paintball gun, and the animals are cartoons printed onto paper," Laxus muttered. "It ain't gonna hurt anyone."

"It's a slippery slope," Lisanna crossed her arms.

"You sound like PETA."

"How dare you, PETA is-"

"What about a strength tester?" Elfman interrupted, cutting through the two of them and pointing towards a flashing arcade machine with a punching bag hanging from it. "You and me, Laxus, finally show you how a real man's muscles work, not just those vanity things you have."

"Vanity?" Laxus grinned. "These vanity muscles could kick your ass."

"Let's take it to the machine then," Elfman grinned back, flexing his arm.

The three of them walked to the machine. Lisanna was shaking her head but smiling as she complained about idiot boys. Elfman was rolling up his sleeve, complaining about Laxus' 'fake Hollywood phony' muscles. Laxus was biting back with his own retorts, though lacking a level of bite they normally would.

He was distracted, wondering how cocky Freed might have been in this situation. Even though Laxus was pretty sure he and Elfman would kick his ass at the game, Freed wouldn't entertain the possibility for a second; he'd probably make a bet out of it to prove himself. Smug, over confident asshole.

God Laxus wished he was there. And that was a dangerous thought.

"So the house is going well then?" Mirajane asked, biting into a doughnut.

It was just the two of them now, still at the fair. Elfman and Cana needed to return to the town for their respective jobs, and Lisanna had eaten too many doughnuts and was undergoing a sugar crash, meaning she was told by her sister to go home and rest rather than being tired for the rest of the day. Laxus felt slightly smug at the yawned complaints from the younger woman, given he had been forced to pay for the doughnuts.

He'd lost the game to Elfman, and paid for food because of a stupid bet. They'd taken advantage.

It was getting to the middle of the afternoon, and some of the stalls were starting to close down. The only reason the two of them remained was because, although he didn't need the money, Laxus wanted to stick around to help fix any of the games that might break. Nobody else could do it, and Laxus felt weirdly loyal to the fairground.

"Yeah, it is," He nodded. "It's still looks like it belongs in the eighties, but it's a lot better than it used to be."

"Do you think Freed would let us take a tour of it before he sells it," Mirajane asked, moving to the side to avoid a running child. "I'm sure the second it goes on the market half the town will be looking through it because they're curious"

"I could ask him," Laxus offered. "He's a perfectionist, though. Might be done before Christmas if we're fast, but it ain't certain."

"Well, I drove past it a few days and it looks great outside. The garden looks lovely," Mirajane praised.

"Thanks," Laxus grinned.

"You did that?" She asked with a warm smile on her face. "I didn't take you as a floral arranger?"

"Well, me and Freed did it together, but I guess I was kind of in charge of what it looked like," The blonde blushed a little, though was angry at himself for doing so. Part of his therapy was coming to terms with parts of himself that weren't, as Elfman would say, manly. "It probably means some weird crap. Did you know flowers were a language? The guy selling them tried to explain it to me, but I just wanted the ones that looked good."

"Well, it does look very nice," Mirajane smiled, but it twisted up a little too far. "You and Freed planted a flowerbed together, did you? That sounds very sweet."

"We ain't doin' this, Mira," Laxus sighed. "I'm getting this from everyone, you can't do it too."

"He's very handsome," She seemed to ignore his complaint, and Laxus sighed in resignation. If he couldn't get fucking Lisanna to stop teasing him, her sister was an impossible task. "He's not the kind of man I thought you'd like, but I suppose I haven't spent much time with- oh, speak of the devil."

Laxus looked up, following Mirajane's gaze, eyes settling on Freed. The man seemed to notice Laxus, and lifted a hand in greeting as he walked towards them. As he got closer, Laxus frowned a little as he noticed Freed's posture and the speed with which he was walking. His shoulders were hunched, pace fast, and his expression forced to be pleasant. It was an expression that he'd seen on Freed a few times, and most of the time it was when he was stressed. Laxus walked forward to meet him, looking him up and down with concern.

"What's up?" He asked in place of a greeting.

"I asked them if building work was possible, they kept me on hold for two hours and twenty-six minutes, with possibly the most annoying music I have ever heard, only to tell me that, according to the basic guidelines, that it isn't possible," Freed almost grunted.

"They couldn't have told you that right away?" Laxus frowned.

"That's exactly what I asked them," Freed laughed bitterly. "Apparently I did so in a 'hostile tone' and that it was bad enough to terminate the phone call."

Laxus really wanted to laugh because that sounded pretty fucking funny. But he didn't.

"What can I do?" Laxus requested.

"You don't need to- that's not why I'm here," Freed shook his head slightly, looking around. "I just wanted to see if this was still happening. You seemed to speak quite highly of the place, and I thought that it would be as good a place as any to distract myself and calm down. Though, if the person who hung up on me is to be believed, it's impossible for me to be calm."

With a grin, Laxus laughed. If Freed was making jokes about his annoyance then pretty soon Laxus would be able to do it as well.

"Well, as the fair's resident handyman, I'll be the best tour guide that you'll get," Laxus grinned, stepping back. "Normally, I'd recommend you go to the strength testing machine so you can punch something, but it's rigged and bullshit."

"It said someone's stronger than you, then?" Freed teased, and Laxus grinned back.

"You feeling cocky? Wanna see who's stronger out of both of us?"

"Well, I already know that I'd win, but if you want your ego to be damaged further then by all means," Freed grinned.

Laxus felt something like glee at the fact he had known exactly how Freed would react when challenged to prove himself in any competition. He wondered how hard it would be to lure the man into a bet, just as he himself had been lured into one earlier. By Mirajane. Who was still there, watching the two of them with a smile that Laxus knew not to trust.

"You don't mind if I show Freed around, right?" He asked her, looking at her in warning.

"Of course not, I was only staying so you wouldn't be wandering around here on your own," She patted Laxus on the shoulder. "I'll go and look after Lisanna. Hopefully, she's not vomiting on the side of the road."

"Is she alright?" Freed asked, voice concerned.

"Oh she's fine, she just doesn't know how to turn down a doughnut when they're freshly made," Mirajane laughed. "I'll see you both soon, I'm sure. And we should have a meal at some point, Freed. You're obviously important to Laxus, it'd be nice to get to know you better," She actually winked. Fucker. "Bye."

Both men wished her a goodbye, and Laxus glared at her as she left.

"So," Freed said, grinning at Laxus. "Strength tester?"

"Strength tester," Laxus nodded.

The two men, for the rest of the afternoon, made their way through almost every game that had any hint of competition to it. The only stalls that they avoided were the ones that had no chance of losing or ending without a prise. They were both openly competitive, and it had made for a fun afternoon. Playful insults were exchanged, and intolerably smug gloating followed every victory. Laxus was loving every moment of it.

He was right. He and Freed got along well outside of the house. Perhaps even better than when they worked together.

And part way through their shared afternoon together, something had struck Laxus. Freed had been stressed and had come to the fair, based off of Laxus' recommendation and perhaps knowing that Laxus would be there. A children's fairground didn't seem to be an obvious place for Freed to visit, so it was likely that he'd only gone there because of Laxus. Sure, it wasn't like Freed had any other friends in Magnolia, but he could have called Evergreen or Bickslow. But he hadn't. He'd come to Laxus to have fun.

It was nice, being Freed's first choice.

"So, you feeling less pissed off now?" Laxus asked, looking to Freed as they walked from a game.

"I believe so," Freed nodded. "I'm still angry that they couldn't be up front, though."

"Anything I can do to help?" Laxus asked, cringing slightly at the neediness he felt his question showed. But Freed didn't seem to notice, as he spoke again.

"Well," Freed said vaguely, and there was something in his voice that most concerned Laxus. "I suppose there is one thing that would definitely cheer me up."

"And that is?" Laxus asked cautiously. Freed didn't respond, instead looking past Laxus with a grin. Laxus followed his gaze and froze. "No."

"But I'm sad, Laxus," Freed said, not sounding sad at all. "And it would make me happy."

"I ain't doing it," Laxus said firmly.

And he wasn't going to do it. He wasn't. Because Freed was looking directly at a dunk tank.

A fucking dunk tank!

"Then I suppose you don't care about me," Freed was grinning, not even trying to sound upset. "I thought we were closer than that, Laxus. I suppose I was wrong."

"Guess you were," Laxus agreed. "Because there's no way I'm getting dropping into cold water in the middle of fucking autumn."

"I remember I used to come to a carnival just like this with my parents," Freed began, feigning sadness, and Laxus didn't think for a second that the topic was dropped. "You know, my parents. Who are both dead. Something that I am very sad about. In fact, I find myself sad all the time. And if there was some way to make me laugh, or bring me joy, it would be incredibly cruel to not do it. As I'm ever so sad."

It took Laxus a second to recover, because wow. Freed was doing this.

"Your mother," Laxus said slowly. "You're actually using your mother's death as a way to get me to play a carnival game. D'you think she'd be happy to know you're doing that?"

"I imagine she'd be delighted I'm being so productive with the situation," Freed grinned, and Laxus laughed. "Okay, guilting you isn't working. What will?"

"I might consider it if you do it first," Laxus smirked, crossing his arms. "I wanna see how serious you are, and if you wanna risk ruining that Armani suit of yours."

"Well, first of all, it's not Armani. It's Burberry, because I have some taste," Freed corrected, and Laxus grinned. "And as I was the one to first come up with the idea, I believe it's only fair that you get in first. That, as well as the fact that I'm so very sad."

"Nah," Laxus shook his head.

Freed sighed, and then pulled an expression that he normally only showed when he was thinking about how to approach a problem with either the house or his work. The fact he was putting this amount of thought into forcing Laxus into a damn dunk tank was both ridiculous and so fucking typical of Freed that Laxus couldn't stop himself from smiling. Only Freed could take something so stupid as this and treat it with the same level of importance as an actual legal trial for a multi-million-dollar company.

"The game is throwing balls at a target, and hitting the middle dunks the victim," Freed clarified, and Laxus raised an eyebrow. This was the first time Freed had gone lawyer mode on him. "I propose a game. I buy three balls. If I dunk you on the first, I win the game and don't have to get in the tank myself. If I dunk you on the second or third throw, you get the same three attempts as I did. If I miss altogether, then I'll pay for as many balls as you need to dunk me."

"And why is there a way for you to avoid getting on the chair altogether, but not me?" Laxus quirked an eyebrow. "And if you say your sad, I'll toss you into the water myself."

Freed thought for a moment. "Because I'm your boss and I'll fire you if you don't."

Obviously that was a joke, and Laxus laughed and shook his head. He could probably keep arguing with Freed, most likely to a point where the idea was either forgotten or presented in a way that wasn't clearly stacked against Laxus, but he wouldn't. Because Freed was clearly enjoying himself, and he had been stressed out for a while with working on the house, and his job.

A bit of cold water couldn't hurt. And he might not get wet, if Freed's aim was bad.

And if he did, well. At least Freed would be happy.

"Fine," Laxus agreed, and Freed smirked. "But if you miss your first throw, I'm gonna make sure I record it as you get dunked and I'm gonna bring it up so much more often than I bring up Elfman's weird monster costume."

"I'm sure you will," Freed grinned.

They two walked towards the dunk tank, spoke with the vendor, and Freed paid for three balls. Laxus removed any valuables that could be damaged by water and sighed as he looked up at the chair suspended over a deep tub of cold water. He climbed the small ladder and sat on the chair, shaking his head when he caught Freed's clear delight at the situation.

"You ain't gonna get me," He informed the lawyer. "If you can't use a saw without cutting yourself, you can't throw a ball."

"Keep thinking that," Freed retorted. "You'll learn otherwise."

Laxus watched as Freed positioned himself on the red circle on the grass. He took one of the baseballs in hand, narrowed his eyes slightly, changed his posture, and threw the ball with a worrying amount of speed. Laxus winced.

He didn't fall.

A muttered cuss and the sound of a ball hitting tarp rather than the wooden target made Laxus grin. So according to their game, Freed was definitely getting in the chair now. And, unlike Freed, Laxus had no intention of missing his first shot. Although he hadn't enjoyed it, Laxus had been in his high-schools baseball team as a pitcher. And hitting the target would be damn easy.

He was about to tell Freed this, when another ball flew through the air and towards the target.

Laxus still didn't fall.

Getting cocky now, Laxus puffed out his chest and laughed. Freed obviously heard this and looked towards him with a glare, which only made Laxus more amused. He was even absently swinging his legs over the water.

"You know that, if you miss this, I'm never gonna let it go, right?" Laxus boasted. "You will never fucking live it down."

"I won't miss," Freed said plainly.

"I hope not," Laxus grinned. "Because you'll look real stupid dripping wet all on yer own."

Freed didn't respond to that. He turned towards the wooden target, took his final ball, readied his position, and threw it through the air.

Laxus felt the chair disappear.

The blonde hit the ice-cold water, letting out a loud and undignified yelp. He shuddered all over, as if pelted by ice, and it took him a second to resurface. He shivered and the autumnal air hit him, feeling a hell of a lot colder now that he was covered in water. He breathed heavily and shivered as he pushed his fringe out of his hair, only to be met with the sight of Freed grinning. Holding his phone, which was clearly recording him.

"Fuck!" Laxus exclaimed, pulling at his sodden clothing that now clung to him. "Fucking hell."

"Is it cold?" Freed asked, and Laxus made his way to the inside ladder to climb out.

"Eat shit," Laxus tried to snap, but his voice quivered slightly as he left the cold water. Droplets hit the ground, and he shook off some of the water. It didn't help, as his clothes were drenched, and his skin covered with the cold water. "Get yer ass up there now, Justine."

"This attraction is closed, sir," A voice said

Laxus paused, then slowly looked towards the dunk tank's vendor.

"Your joking, right?" Laxus said, voice only slightly affected by his shivering now. "You are joking."

"It seems more profitable for me to close it down now, than to keep it open," The vendor shrugged.

For a moment, Laxus had to think about what he had said to understand it. When he finally understood the implication behind the man's words, Laxus' gaze fell onto Freed again, who didn't even have the manners to look ashamed of himself. Instead, he looked incredibly smug about what he had done.

"You bribed him to close it?" Laxus demanded, and Freed smirked wider.

"If you just let me guilt you, you wouldn't feel so betrayed right now," Freed responded. Asshole.

"You know I'm gonna throw you in there, right," Laxus took a step forward, water filled shoes squelching as he did so. "Don't think I won't, or that I can't, because we both saw how much stronger I am than you from that fucking tester."

"I believe you said that the test was rigged," Freed questioned, unmoving

"Doesn't matter," Laxus shrugged. "Because it's pretty fucking obvious that, out of the two of us, I'm bigger."

Laxus hadn't planned it. He hadn't even been aware that he'd done it. But, at one point during their exchange, he had grabbed Freed by the tie. It was meant to be an accompaniment to his threat. A way to let Freed know that, although he wasn't actually angry with him, he was going to throw him into the water to even things out. And it might have worked, had he not been dragging Freed towards him. But now they were close.

They were very close.

So close that Laxus' shivering breath was now hitting Freed's lips. So close that Laxus noticed a small mark below Freed's eye that he's never seen before. So close that he suddenly felt incredibly aware of how his clothes were hugging him now, a feeling that made him seem incredibly vulnerable.

If he leant forward, their lips would touch.

They seemed to realise what had happened at the same time. And for a moment, neither spoke.

"I-I should get home," Laxus eventually said, voice weaker as he let Freed's tie go. "Probably should shower and change."

"Of course," Freed's voice was also distant. "Should I drive you-"

"I can walk, it ain't far," Laxus lied. "See ya."

"Bye," Freed replied, stepping back.

Perhaps stupidly, Laxus turned, stalked away, and refused to look back.

#Fraux Day 2020 #Fraxus Day #Fraxus #Freed Justine #Laxus Dreyar #Fairy Tail #Fanfic #Writing #Event #Multichapter #Word Count 4.7k #Fuckyeahfraxus

10 notes · View notes

noorakardemmomesaetre · 5 years

Photo

Through the Snowfall - Chapter Four

Or Read It On Ao3

Pairing: Betty Cooper x Jughead Jones

Summary: The Coopers and Andrews have rented the same cabin in the woods every holiday season since their kids were two years old.

And with Archie and Betty leaving for college in just a few months, Betty is determined to make this Christmas a memorable one…by telling Archie how she really feels.

What she doesn’t plan for is Archie bringing his best friend.

Or the way her gaze is suddenly lingering on the wild dark curls peeking out from beneath a crown beanie rather than the ginger spikes she’d set her sights on so long ago.

Chapter Four: Sunrise

Betty awakens the next morning feeling more well-rested than she has since their winter "vacation" began almost two weeks ago. Turning over to rest her head against her hands, her smile widens when she finds her best friend also awake, a magazine opened beside her.

"Anything interesting in there?"

"Pretty big news," Veronica says, her eyes widening as she turns her attention to Betty. "Brad and Angelina are on the outs again."

"Haven't they been on the outs for a while?" Betty asks, slowly sitting up and raising her hands above her head to stretch.

Veronica shrugs, sitting up as well and tilting her head as she looks at her best friend. "You look exceptionally glowy today, B. Care to share what's got you feeling so relaxed?"

"Well." The sight of her robe has flashbacks of last night playing in Betty's head and she can't help the warmth that spreads from her heart to the tips of her toes at the memory. "Actually, I've been meaning to talk to you about-"

"Good morning ladies!" The door swings open revealing a pajama-clad Archie and Betty decides next year she's putting a lock on the damn door.

Veronica's cheeks look as though they've been kissed by fire as she slips into her purple satin robe, playfully avoiding Archie's appreciative gaze.

"What are you, the king of interrupting huge moments?" Betty snaps playfully as she moves past him towards the peppermint mocha she knows is waiting for her in the kitchen.

"I'm sorry, were you about to kiss her too?"

He's only teasing her, but her heart hammers beyond her control at his reference of last night and she smacks him on the arm as her mouth drops.

He winks at her before turning his attention to Veronica and smiling. "Morning, Ronnie. I made pumpkin spice pancakes, if you're interested."

Betty leaves them to chat about how Veronica can't possibly believe that Archie is capable of cooking anything, let alone festive pancakes.

There's something about the way Jughead looks when he's seated casually on the couch in his pajamas typing on his laptop with the ferocity of someone who can't get the words out fast enough. She debates going to grab her peppermint mocha, but he looks so handsome and vulnerable sitting there surrounded by Christmas lights and warm blankets she can't bring herself to move.

So, instead, she leans against the last post of the staircase and watches him completely immerse himself in whatever it is that he's writing about so passionately.

"Feeling inspired?"

He immediately looks up in surprise and the smile that tugs on the corners of his lips when he realizes it's her makes her heart swell as large as the Grinch's at the end of his movie. It's warm and familiar, not guarded as it usually is, as if he's truly happy to see her standing there.

And it makes her think thoughts of a future with him that make her both extremely happy and absolutely terrified all at once.

"I think I am," he finally says, glancing back down at his laptop. "All thanks to you finding that word I'd been looking for last night."

"Is that all that inspired you about last night?" she asks it so quietly she's afraid he'll ask her to repeat herself, but his eyes soften and she knows he knows what she's asking.

But then something sad creeps into the gentle features of his face and before she can ask him what's bothering him, her mother waltzes into the living room.

"Elizabeth, your mocha is getting cold and I need you to be ready in half an hour. It's one of our last days to take advantage of the snow!" She claps her hands together loudly and Betty wraps her hands tightly around the post she'd been leaning against. "Actually, you should really be drinking green tea. It increases your metabolism and we all know how much you could benefit from that. I'll put on the kettle."

Betty's surprised Alice hasn't turned to Jughead for affirmation. Not that she would get it as Jughead's eyebrows are currently so furrowed beneath his beanie, she's afraid they may permanently stay like that.

"I'll have the mocha, Mother, leave it."

"Elizabeth!" her mother whips her head around as though she's been smacked. "I don't know what has gotten into you lately, but your defiant attitude is unacceptable and frankly, intolerable."

With that, she's turning on her kitten heels towards the kitchen and Betty tries not to let the fact that she can hear her mother turning on the kettle negatively affect her mood.

"Ah, your mother is...

He'd closed his laptop while her mother had been speaking and he's now so close to her she can't help the way her gaze falls to his parted lips.

"Heinous? Monstrous? Downright awful?"

"Elizabeth!" He mimics her mother quietly and the amusement in his eyes rivals the giggles that threaten to spill from her mouth.

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

"Ronnie! Let's go down the bigger hill today," Archie is saying as they all make their way to their usual sledding stop. Their parents are coming up behind them, thermoses of hot chocolate between their hands as they chat about their plans for New Year's.

Veronica glances at Betty, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, and something like guilt tugs uncomfortably on Betty's heart.

"I think you should take Betty this time-"

Archie jokingly groans, turning to pout his bottom lip at Veronica. "But Betty can't handle even the baby hills and it's our last snow day! No offence, Betty."

Betty rolls her eyes and grins at her friend, though if she's being honest, it is embarrassing to constantly hear how terrible she is at sledding when a certain someone is also here.

Veronica, still completely oblivious to Betty's change of heart, shakes her head. "Archie, you can teach her! I think Betty would really like -"

"Actually, Betty, weren't we talking about you riding with me last night?"

Veronica stops speaking and all three of them turn to where Jughead has managed to drag his sled behind him. He's dusting off his snow-covered his gloves when he glances over and shares a small smile with Betty.

"Oh," she breathes, her mouth parting before she tears her gaze away from his towards her best friends. "Right. I think Jug and I are going to try a few hills together today."

"Really?" Veronica asks uncertainly, glancing between Jughead and Betty. Archie pumps his fist in the air and grins when Betty sticks her tongue out at him.

"Let's go, Ronnie! The slopes are melting!"

"Why do I doubt that?" Veronica says with a huff that makes Jughead chuckle. Betty smiles at her encouragingly before she heads in the direction of the redhead already seated comfortably on his sled.

"You don't actually have to ride with me," Betty says to Jughead quickly and he looks over at her, tugging his beanie over the reddened tips of his ears. "I'm really terrible and I understand-"

"I'm not really into going fast, Betty," he responds softly, and she suddenly finds it hard to look directly into the electric blue of his eyes. "I like taking my time."

He motions for her to follow him as if he hadn't just dropped the most thought-provoking double entendre Betty's ever had the pleasure of having directed at her. She's still trying to comprehend that he might actually possibly maybe like her a little bit when she realizes they're suddenly surrounded by toddlers and their parents.

These slopes make the bunny slopes look dangerous and she arches an eyebrow in Jughead's direction.

"I'm trying not to be offended."

He laughs and the preciousness of the sound is drowned out by the screaming children heading down the small hills around them.

He settles onto the sled and holds his arms out. "Come on, Betts. I gotta know what level we're starting at here."

She rolls her eyes but can't deny the invitation to wedge herself between his legs and against his body so she moves towards him.

They fit together so comfortably it takes her by surprise and she can't help but attempt to take in everything about him in this moment. The way he smells like pine soap and cinnamon. His warmth wrapped around her like a cozy Sunday afternoon blanket. The way his breath feels against the cove of her ear as he leans in closer.

"Ready?"

He doesn't wait for her response before they take off down the hill and not even twelve seconds later they're rolling off the sled together, her sense of balance the bane of her existence at this point.

He lays flat on his back, releasing her as laughter ripples off him in waves. He covers his mouth with both of his gloves as his face threatens to split with how wide his grin his. She can only glare at him for so long before giggles rack her own body.

"Really Jughead? I thought you weren't going to be an ass about this."

"I'm not, I'm not!" he says through chattering teeth and a bright smile as children whizz by them, seemingly unaffected by the speed of the slope. "It's just - now I understand why you were making snow angels the other day."

She smacks him in the chest with a handful of snow that flakes onto his face and it doesn't take long before he's up and chasing her between kids flying past on their saucers, only the sounds of her shrieks intermingling with his gasps of laughter ringing through the trees.

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

Betty admires the way that Veronica dresses to the nines for every dinner at the cabin. She's still wrapped in a blanket from her hot shower after the fun she'd had in the snow earlier while Veronica paints her lips a dark plum color that compliments her striking raven-coloured hair.

"Did you have fun with Archie today?"

Veronica pauses, setting her lip gloss down before turning to face Betty. "B, you know I would never do anything to come between you and Archie, he's just so insistent-"

Betty raises her hand to silence her best friend. "V, I don't like Archie."

"What?" Veronica's mouth falls open and her perfectly sculpted eyebrows furrow as she stares at Betty. "Did he do something I should be made aware of-"

"I mean," Betty continues, shaking her head to dismiss whatever negative thoughts have swarmed her best friend's mind. "I don't like him like I thought I did. Like you do."

Betty winces when Veronica closes her eyes and takes a deep breath in through her nose and out through her mouth like she does whenever she's completely stressed. "Betty, if you're insinuating that I'm trying to steal the man of your dreams-"

"Veronica!" she interrupts, biting her lip to keep from laughing. "It's okay. I know you like him and honestly, I think he's good for you."

Veronica tugs her bottom lip between her teeth as she narrows her eyes at Betty. "You think he's good for me?"

"I do." She's being more honest with her than she has been this entire trip. More honest with herself too.

"Ohmy," Veronica says suddenly, her eyes wide as she moves to sit on her knees. "Ohmygod."

"What?"

"You're over Archie," Veronica says slowly before excitement lights up her eyes and she continues, "because you're into Jughead."

"Oh no," Betty says quickly, shaking her head. "I'm not into-"

"Really?" It's Veronica's turn to interrupt and her expression is so etched with disbelief it almost makes Betty laugh. "You, the girl who turns bright pink every time he turns a corner, are not into Jughead?"

"Okay, it's freezing all the-"

"You, the girl who has an inside joke with him every morning - don't think I didn't notice! - are not into Jughead?"

"Friends have jokes, V, I-"

"You, the girl who hangs onto his every word like he's some gift from a higher power, are not into Jughead."

She catches the pillow Betty's just thrown at her as she squeals excitedly. "You are so into him!!"

"Ladies, I hate to break up the party," Fred is standing outside of the closed door and it makes Betty grin that he's too afraid of what he'll find to open it - typical dad, as he continues, "but Alice and Mary have started dinner."

"We'll be right out, Mr. Andrews!" Veronica says before turning to Betty who is now a shade of red she knows she can never play off.

"It doesn't matter how I feel Veronica," she says quickly, holding up her hands in case Veronica throws the pillow she's gripping tightly. "He's not into me. Not like that, I'm sure."

How could he be? she thinks, though her heart entertains a small strain of hope.

"You're delusional if you don't see it," Veronica scoffs as she stands and slips into her fave pair of milanos.

"All I see is you drooling every time Archie enters a room."

Veronica almost falls off her heels as she turns around to glare pointedly at Betty before they burst into giggles.

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

Archie and she have managed to contribute over two hours of volunteer time at the recreation center, hanging ornaments, streamers, and dangling snowflakes.

"Really going all out this year," Archie mumbles, wiping a bead of sweat that has trickled down his forehead as he climbs up a ladder with another large sparkling snowflake.

"It's not called the Snowflake Soiree for nothing, Archie, dear!" Alice calls as she heads over to the poinsettia display to berate the poor, unfortunate soul setting it up. Though they only come once a year, Alice has somehow managed to become the leader of the annual soiree and is not shy about making her status known.

Betty's busy fluffing the fake bundles of 'snow' her mother had purchased to ensure it looks as Winter Wonderland on the inside of the hall as it does on the outside. She catches Archie's eye and rolls hers, to which he sighs and shakes his head.

They do this every year and every year they make a pact to fake food poisoning the next year. It's yet to work out for them.

She reaches for one of the snowflakes as he moves the ladder and she motions for him to climb up so she can hand it to them. Efficiency, her specialty.

"So, Archie," she starts casually and he nods at her in thanks as he reaches for the snowflake. "You like Veronica, huh?"

"Huh?" She's afraid she's knocked him off balance when it takes a second longer than usual for him to stand atop the ladder. "Ronnie?"

"Yes," she confirms, pointing a little to the left for the snowflake position before continuing in a teasing tone, "Ronnie."

He makes like he's going to drop the snowflake above her head and she flips him off in return only to immediately get yelled at from across the room by her mother about the importance of ladylike manners.

"I hate you."

Archie laughs, climbing down the ladder and wiping his glitter-covered hands against his jeans. "Did Ronnie mention something to you?"

"Would you care if she did?"

He leans against the ladder and his smug smile makes her want to push the ladder out from behind him. "Of course I would care if she did, Betty."

"Because you like her?"

"Are you going to tell her if I do?" He's smiling, a true happy smile, as if talking about Veronica is enough to brighten his entire day. And Betty's more than sure it is.

"You should invite her to go to the Soiree with you."

"You think she'd go with me?" he asks earnestly, before running his fingers through his hair and Betty cringes, knowing his hair is now full of glitter he won't be able to get rid of for weeks. "She's way out of my league."

"I think she'd like to go with you."

His face lights up and seeing her best friend so happy makes her even more excited about how happy Veronica will be when he asks her.

"You're a good friend, Betty, thanks for that." He wraps his arms around her in a bear hug and she giggles when he squeezes her so tightly she's fighting for air. When he finally releases her, she pretends to rub her arms and he laughs, but it's who has walked in that makes her heart stop.

Veronica grins excitedly when she spots the two of them, turning back to nod at whatever Alice is motioning too.

But when Jughead sees them, his smile is guarded and his wave half-hearted.

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

well, we've almost made it to the end of this little journey, which means Christmas is right around the corner! 🎄❄️

I hope you're all having a lovely holiday season! I know that hearing your thoughts throughout this fic have made mine that much merrier so if you'd like to leave a comment or kudos, please do! ❤️

#bughead fanfiction #bughead #bughead holiday fanfiction #riverdale events #comet: traditions #betty cooper x jughead jones #through the snowfall #a little bit of a tropefest #mixed with as much of a slow burn as five chapters will allow lol

171 notes · View notes

eponymous-rose · 5 years

Text

I’ve also further progressed in my Vorkosigan re-read! Memory was as wonderful as I remembered (Illyan and Miles going fishing via improvised hand grenade out of boredom is always a highlight).

I love the way Bujold structures her books---I talked about that a bunch with Mirror Dance---but Memory is just brilliantly laid out. Miles is spiraling, Miles fucks up, Miles gets fired (the closest pop-culture parallel I can think of is a superhero having to permanently revert to their mundane secret identity), Miles’s friends manage to yank him out of the mire, and then... surprise bizarre out-of-sequence murder mystery! The victim’s not dead! Miles keeps finding clues out of sequence and realizing he was meant to be framed! And god, you’re so sure it’s Haroche right at the start and then you have that moment of “oh well shit of course he thinks Miles might have it in for the boss that just eviscerated his identity” and so you’re still surprised when that first instinct was right! And then he offers Miles his life as Naismith back. Even Cordelia placed a bet on Miles giving up his life as Vorkosigan. And... he doesn’t. Mirror Dance was about Mark fracturing himself to survive. Memory is about Miles dragging himself back together to live.

I love how Illyan takes the loss of his memory chip---it’s fundamentally a piece of him gone, but it’s also freedom from thirty years of being a tool of his emperor (and then of Aral), and his embracing this destruction of his identity and learning to move forward is such a great foil/foreshadowing for Miles’s revelation. Everything in this story is about moving forward, not without regrets, but moving forward. It’s so fitting that the romance story going on in the background is Alys and Illyan, two 60-somethings, falling in love (and god, I love the scene where Miles wanders in on them in the morning and thinks something like “huh that dress is more of an evening style isn’t it?” and then like ten hours later the penny drops).

And god, Miles and Elli. I love how this was done, how it’s made apparent that you can love someone, and they can love you, and you can be very good for each other in a lot of ways, but your circumstances can still be such that marriage will annihilate one or both of you. It’s nobody’s fault, but the inevitability and recognition of it means it’s not always a devastation: “He could feel the letting-go in them, with the easing of the tension and the terror, with the slowing of every pulse of their blood. Not pain, or not so much pain, but only a just sadness, a due measure of melancholy, quiet and right.” Even when they’re quite bizarre relationships, the relationships in these books are very mature and well-thought-out from a narrative point of view, and this is a wonderful example.

Just a really, really lovely book:

No wonder he was laughing. He wasn’t mourning a death. He was celebrating an escape.

“I’m not dead. I’m here.” He touched his scarred chest in wonder.

[...]

Harra Csurik had been almost right. It wasn’t your life again you found, going on. It was your life anew.

Aaaand on to Komarr! God! I love this book! The most Miles possible meet-cute for his future wife: board at the home of her family on an investigation, have combat flashbacks on a shopping trip with her, and wind up watching her husband die horrifically while chained to a rail on a planet with a toxic atmosphere, knowing if he reacts too strongly he’s likely to have a seizure that’ll dislodge his own breathing mask, killing him in the same terrible way. You know. Rom-com stuff.

Speaking of relationships portrayed well, Ekaterin and Tien’s disaster of a marriage is extremely chilling in its realism. Even as you absolutely detest Tien, you can see how Ekaterin got yanked into that orbit, and it’s all all all so tied in with the very same aspects of Barrayaran culture that we’ve seen Miles face: Tien destroys everything because of his perception of what the response would be to his illness (where Miles, for better or worse, never had the option of hiding it), and because of his shitty insecurities about Ekaterin’s fidelity (echoes of a young Aral come to mind). We’re given explanations (his brother’s literally impossible-to-live-up-to example) but are never expected to see them as excuses, which is a very fine line to walk. The end result is a believably fucked-up relationship that draws on parallels with every single time you’ve ever thought to yourself about a friend, “Oh god sweetie you can do so much better than him”.

And Ekaterin’s thoughts about being bound to this marriage are right along the lines of the most stick-in-the-mud traditional Barrayaran loyalties we’ve seen Miles exhibit, all tangled up in language about honor. And even though it very shortly (and mortally) becomes a moot point, I love that she gets the chance to decide to leave Tien in spite of that.

I also love the scene between Tien and Miles, talking about Nikki’s jumpship obsession, partly because of the obvious contrast between the two of them, but mostly because it illustrates how much of Tien’s awfulness is because he’s just... fundamentally a bitter coward with no imagination.

"Well, every boy goes through that phase, I suppose. We all outgrow it. Pick up all that mess, Nikki.”

Nikki’s eyes were downcast, but narrowed in brief resentment at this, Miles could see from his angle of view. The boy bent to scoop up the last of his miniature fleet.

“Some people grow into their dreams, instead of out of them,” Miles murmured.

“That depends on whether your dreams are reasonable,” said Vorsoisson, his lips twitching in rather bleak amusement. Ah, yes. Vorsoisson must be fully aware of the secret medical bar between Nikki and his ambition.

“No, it doesn’t.” Miles smiled slightly. “It depends on how hard you grow.”

The alternating POVs between Miles and Ekaterin are charming because we get to see Miles from an external (non-hostile) point of view and get all excited about each small revelation, and then we get to see Ekaterin both from Miles’s point of view and from the point of view of her own very active inner monologue, giving us insights we would otherwise have missed since she, as Miles says in the understatement of the century, has a tendency to underreact.

Their relationship is built up very carefully: there’s an obvious mutual interest practically from the first, but they both have reason to be cautious. There are those moments of genuine rapport early on, and then the shopping trip! It’s such a clever revelation, and so layered!

Miles was traumatized at Dagoola IV by watching Beatrice fall from the shuttle in front of him: he reached out to try to catch her, and just missed, and she died. And then we have this perfectly safe little parallel, with himself and Ekaterin falling off a water feature in a shopping district, and he manages to catch her, this time... and they both go over. It’s cute and oddly triumphant...

...and then he realizes exactly what it means. If he’d caught Beatrice, he’d have gone over with her. They’d both be dead, and that revelation hits right after he’s had a whole book to figure out just how badly he wants to live. And to Ekaterin, it’s a very quick summary of what and who Miles is: he’s the man who would not let go. BUT Ekaterin ALSO frames her leaving Tien in that context: she’s not just watching him fall, but purposefully releasing her hands. It’s so twisted and so complicated and such a weird little microcosm of their respective states of mind. And while part of it is Ekaterin giving Miles the little push he needed to properly process that trauma, fundamentally and on a larger timescale it places Miles as the “I’ve been in this hole before and I know the way out” path to Ekaterin’s healing. It’s so well done.

There’s also a hell of a parallel in the physical aspect of Miles’s seizures coming on unexpectedly in moments of great stress versus the psychological aspect of Ekaterin’s whole coping mechanism being built on trying desperately not to flinch or show strong emotion.

(And I don’t know where else to put this but special shout-out to the running gag of Vorkosigan House getting gradually overrun with cats, to the point where Miles starts, apropos of nothing and on a totally different planet, asking strangers if they’d like a kitten.)

These kids! Will they make it work? I may be only halfway through the book, but I have a funny feeling things might work out...

Also, here’s the “rescue” scene in full, because it delights me so:

The root-compacted soil of the edge sagged under her weight, and she began to slide precipitously forward. She yelped; pushing backward fragmented her support totally. One wildly back-grappling arm was caught suddenly in a viselike grip, but the rest of her body turned as the soil gave way beneath her, and she found herself dangling absurdly feet-down over the pond. Her other arm, swinging around, was caught, too, and she looked up into Vorkosigan’s face above her. He was lying prone on the slope, one hand locked around each of her wrists. His teeth were clenched and grinning, his gray eyes alight.

“Let go, you idiot!” she cried.

The look on his face was weirdly, wildly exultant. “Never,” he gasped, “again--”

His half-boots were locked around... nothing, she realized, as he began to slide inexorably over the edge after her. But his death-grip never slackened. The exalted look on his face melted to sudden horrified realization. The laws of physics took precedence over heroic intent for the next couple of seconds; dirt, pebbles, vegetation, and two Barrayaran bodies all hit the chilly water more or less simultaneously.

The water, it turned out, was a bit over a meter deep. The bottom was soft with muck. She wallowed upright onto her feet, one shoe gone who knew where, sputtering and dragging her hair from her eyes and looking around frantically for Vorkosigan. Lord Vorkosigan. The water came to her waist, it ought not to be over his head---no half-booted feet were sticking up like waving stumps anywhere---could he swim?

He popped up beside her, and blew muddy water out of his mouth, and dashed it from his eyes to clear his vision. His beautiful suit was sodden, and a water-plant dangled over one ear. He clawed it away, and located her, his hand going toward her and then stopping.

“Oh,” said Ekaterin faintly. “Drat.”

There was a meditative pause before Lord Vorkosigan spoke. “Madame Vorsoisson,” he said mildly at last, “has it ever occurred to you that you may be just a touch oversocialized?”

#vorkosigan saga #vorkosigan saga spoilers #long text post

198 notes · View notes

etherealwaifgoddess · 4 years

Text

Maybe I Am? - Chpt.2

Characters: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Summary: Steve takes a risk and the guys go out on a “date”. Master list HERE

Content Warning: first “date” cuteness, making out

Word Count: 2.5k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! Today is one of those days where I am eternally grateful for having a “draft” option. Because honestly, ya girl is exhausted. So yay for drafts! Enjoy chapter two. I’m honestly too tired to give ya’ll a better note right now. :-\ XOXO - Ash

Chapter Two

Steeeeve [9:32:08PM]: Hey, it’s Steve.

Bucky Barnes [9:32:47PM]: hi steve

Steeeeve [9:33:15PM]: I had a lot of fun meeting up today.

Bucky Barnes [9:33:39PM]: me 2

Steve huffed staring at Bucky’s second generic response. He was usually so much more lively. Steve took a long sigh and started texting what he needed to get off his chest.

Steeeeve [9:35:21PM]: I’m sorry if I came off as confused or misleading.

Steeeeve [9:35:26PM]: I didn’t mean to do that. But I am kind of confused right now.

Steeeeve [9:35:35PM]: I spent so much time liking the idea of you, and you in real life was even more amazing than I could have expected. But I’ve never dated a guy before and I never expected to want to. And now I think I do.

Steeeeve [9:35:49PM]: I’m sorry. This probably isn’t any less confusing. I’m apparently really bad at this lol. I guess what I’m trying to say is, will you go out on a maybe-date with me? I want to try and see how I feel. I don’t want to string you on, but I want to try.

Bucky stared at the flurry of texts coming into his phone. Damn, serial texter much? He read and re-read Steve texts a few times, chewing nervously his bottom lip, trying to find a response. He wasn’t willing to let his heart get trample on again, not after Brock. But he really liked Steve and if there was a chance Steve might like him too, it was too good to pass up. He had a distinct feeling he was going to regret it, but he tapped out the only honest response he could think of.

Bucky Barnes [9:44:13PM]: i like u 2 steve. i get that ur confused. lets try ur maybe-date and see how it goes? if it goes well cool, if not no hard feelings. k?

Steeeeve [9:45:20PM]: Thank you. Really, thank you for being so great about this. Can we get dinner one night this week?

Bucky Barnes [9:45:55PM]: im free any nite but tues

Steeeeve [9:46:10PM]: I can do Friday night around 7. There’s a really great Mexican place a few blocks over from the gym if you’re willing to schelp all the way over to Park Slope.

Bucky Barnes [9:46:31PM]: sounds good. see u then

Bucky sighed, putting his phone away into the pocket of his favorite old hoodie. He had a date. A maybe-date, but for some reason that felt good enough for him at the moment.

xxXxx

Steve discovered the best part of being able to text Bucky wasn’t just that their chatting was no longer limited to when they were both near a computer, but that they now had a full range of emojis, memes, and GIFs at their disposal. He could now send Bucky random funny things he found during the day and he felt a little proud when Bucky would send back a string of laughing emojis, knowing he had brightened the other man’s day a little. He had worried with their maybe-date looming things might be a little awkward but if anything they were going even better. By the time Friday came Steve was genuinely looking forward to their maybe-date. He had even gone out on Wednesday before his shift at the gym to pick up a set of clothes that were distinctly not gym wear. He couldn’t remember the last time he bought a button up shirt but he had to admit the blue and white checked shirt looked nice on him. He was trying not to stress over the maybe-date but he felt this gnawing need to know, definitively, if he was truly interested in Bucky, or just the fantasy of WinterBae.

Steve raced home Friday to shower and change, hoping he’d left himself enough time to do all that and still make it over to Los Aztecas in time. Taking the time to slick back his hair and do a quick shave, Steve was hustling out the door only to realize he’d forgotten the bottle of wine once he got outside. After a fast double back for the wine he was on his way, making it to the tiny authentic Mexican restaurant with three minutes to spare. He had barely stopped walking when he saw Bucky hopping out of an uber. Steve felt a little flutter at the sight of Bucky and he took it as a good sign.

Bucky looked amazing in his dark skinny jeans and a silky looking black shirt. A minimalist necklace was around his throat, the simple bar resting just below the wings of his collarbones. Steve noticed Bucky had swapped out the cheery beaded bracelets he’d worn on Sunday for a set of sleek silver and leather ones. He looked like he belonged on the cover of a fashion magazine and Steve felt ridiculous in what Sam had teased was his bible salesman outfit.

“Heya.” Bucky greeted warmly, extending an arm for a half hug.

“Hey,” Steve echoed, hugging back with his free hand. “Ready for the best Mexican food of your life?”

“Definitely, let’s go.”

Steve led Bucky inside the little restaurant, its cozy decor making the place feel intimate instead of cramped. Steve had called ahead for reservations so they were whisked off to a table as soon as he gave the concierge his name. Bucky was looking around fascinated, taking in all the colorful decorations.

“It’s really something, huh?” Steve prompted with a smile.

Bucky nodded in agreement, “Yeah, it’s beautiful. So much art packed into so little space. Thanks for bringing me here, Steve.”

“It’s one of my favorite places in the area, mostly for the tacos but also for the art. I got my degree in fine art before I switched gears and went back to get certified in exercise science.”

“That’s quite a switch.” Bucky laughed.

“Art will always be my first love, but it’s not exactly profitable. And once I got healthier I knew I wanted to help other people do the same. I was really sick as a kid and didn’t hit any major growth spurts until I was almost 21. After that, I worked out a lot getting used to my new body and fell in love with the gym.”

“Wow. I’m glad you were able to get healthier, and it’s sweet you’re trying to give back to others with that.”

“Do you go to a gym? I won’t be offended that it’s a competitor, I swear.”

Bucky barked out a laugh, “No. God, no. I am perfectly happy with not having abs or a totally flat stomach as long as waffles exist.”

Steve couldn’t help his eyes dropping to Bucky’s stomach which honestly couldn’t have had more than the smallest layer of padding across it. “That’s okay too. Waffles are pretty great.”

The waitress stopped by to uncork their wine and drop off a basket of fresh tortilla chips and salsa verde.

“What did you bring?” Bucky asked as he took the glass of white wine Steve had poured him.

“Albariño. A waitress here recommended it a few years ago and now it’s my go to. It’s light and crisp, and kinda citrusy? I’m not a wine snob but it’s damn good and goes really well with tacos. I hope you like white wine, I forgot to ask.”

“I’ve yet to meet a white wine I didn’t like, so you’re safe.” Bucky sipped the wine and his eyes lit up, “Oh yeah, this is good. I’ll be hunting this down next time I go shopping.”

“You can get it over at the little wine boutique near the farmers market in Sunset Park. They always have this kind.”

“Nice, I’ll have to check it out. My sister will love this the next time she visits.”

The conversation flowed as the basket of tortilla chips disappeared, only ebbing when their platters arrived and they tucked into their food. Steve had ordered his usual taco platter while Bucky opted for the taquitos platter, an assortment of slow roasted meats wrapped in thin crispy shells. He let out a groan at his first bite that had Steve’s heart stuttering in his chest. The maybe-date had mostly felt like a friend-date up until that point, though Steve had to admit there was a tiny flutter of like there too. But the noise Bucky made and the expression on his face had Steve thinking anything but friends only thoughts.

Bucky caught Steve staring at him as he licked a dribble of sauce off his bottom lip. He hadn’t gotten a distinct date-date vibe from Steve but the look on the blonde’s face was priceless. Bucky thought he probably had made a similar one the first time he saw Devon Sawa in Wild America when he was 12. He had never stood a chance of being straight after that. Testing the waters a little bit, Bucky smirked at Steve, making it abundantly clear he’d been caught staring. Steve flushed and Bucky’s smile widened. There might be hope after all.

Steve wasn’t sure if it was the wine or too many tacos but by the time dinner was over he felt glued to his seat. He hated knowing the evening was coming to an end and wanted to do something, anything, to prolong it. The waitress dropped off the sales receipt with a pen and Steve tried to steady his hand as he signed his name. He knew he needed to muster up his courage or he would be saying goodbye to Bucky in mere minutes.

“Thanks again for paying.” Bucky said after draining the last of his wine, “This was really nice.”

“It was.” Steve agreed, seeing his chance, “You know, I have another bottle of this wine back at my place if you wanna come over for a bit. Maybe you could help me find that movie app you were telling me about for the Fire Stick?”

“Sure, I’m happy to help. I won’t say no to more of that wine either.” Bucky stamped down the hopeful cheering in his chest that Steve was inviting him over. The poor guy probably didn’t mean that anything would happen other than wine and tech help but Bucky could always dream. He would be respectful though, he resolved to himself. He’d never dated a guy who was questioning his sexuality before and Bucky didn’t want to push too far too soon. Bucky figured it was best to let Steve set the pace and just hope his heart didn’t get run over in the process.

Steve’s apartment was only four blocks from the restaurant, a second floor walk up in an old converted brownstone. It was nicer than Bucky’s little hole in the wall apartment and even had a small second bedroom that Steve had set up as a home office. After giving Bucky a quick tour, he led them to the kitchen to pull another bottle of Albariño out of his cabinet. Passing a stemless glass to Bucky, he poured them both a generous amount of wine which they carried out to the living room so Bucky could show Steve the app he’d mentioned during dinner. A few clicks and a quick download later, Steve had access to a ridiculous amount of free movies.

“This is so great.” Steve praised, clicking through the different options. “Oh I love this one!”

“Hm?” Bucky looked up from his glass to see Steve hovering over 10 Things I Hate About You. “Oh that one is great. I remember wanting to be Patrick Verona when I grew up after seeing that.”

Steve gave an amused side eyed look at Bucky. “I think you did a decent job.” he teased, throwing on the movie out of sheer impulse.

Bucky laughed, “You’re sweet. But god knows I’ll never be that smooth.”

“You’re better off than me. I’ve been told I’m hopeless on more than one occasion.”

“You hold your own, Rogers.” Bucky assured him, reaching over to take Steve’s hand in his, stroking the pad of his thumb over the ridges of Steve’s knuckles.

Steve blinked slowly, looking from their joined hands up to Bucky’s face. It felt good, that fluttery feeling stirring in his gut at the contact. He gave Bucky a smile and squeezed his hand gently, making sure his consent was clear.

The movie rolled and they sipped their wine as Patrick did his best to woo Kat. Bucky slowly nudged closer to Steve until he was pressed against his side, his head leaning against Steve’s shoulder. He was warm and comfortable and completely unwilling to move by the time Letters to Cleo played into the credits.

“I can’t believe it’s after eleven already.” Steve yawned.

Bucky yawned next, set off by Steve’s. “Same. I had a really good night, Steve.” He looked up curiously, wondering if Steve had found any new revelations on their maybe-date.

“Me too. This was… really nice. Hey, um, I know this was a maybe-date, but maybe um…”

Bucky shifted so he could sit up taller and face Steve while he fumbled for words.

“I, um, I’d really like to kiss you right now.” Steve blurted out, looking equal parts excited and terrified.

Bucky’s smile was like the sun. “Okay, yeah.” Bucky reached out to cup Steve’s cheek, going agonizingly slow to give Steve a chance to bolt if he needed it. He leaned up a little and Steve craned his neck down, tentatively meeting Bucky’s lips with his own.

A soft press, a pause, another soft press, and then the kiss deepened, Bucky’s lips parting to slot Steve’s with his. Steve let out a choked off moan, unable to believe what he was doing and how good it felt. He let a hand rake through Bucky’s hair and it only made him want to feel more of the silky locks. The scent of cedar and teak from his cologne filled Steve’s nose and though it was very distinctly male, Steve couldn’t get enough of it. It was so much more than he could have expected but also not nearly enough. He was breathing raggedly when he finally pulled back, repressing a shudder at the well kissed expression on Bucky’s face. His full bottom lip was shining and red, his eyes heavy lidded and his chest heaving just as much as Steve’s.

“Whoa.” Steve finally breathed out in amazement.

“Yeah, whoa.” Bucky agreed. “So does this help in sorting out if this was a date-date?”

“I think it was definitely a date-date.”

“I’m glad. And do you think you’d want to try another date sometime?”

“When are you free next?” Steve chuckled, only half kidding.

“Easy there, pal.” Bucky warned lightly, patting Steve’s ridiculously broad chest. “We’ll find a day again soon.”

Steve nodded, knowing Bucky was right for wanting to take things slow. He led Bucky over to the door, giving him one last quick kiss goodbye before the brunette headed out into the early summer night. Steve was still floored by his own reactions to Bucky but it felt so right that he couldn’t agonize over it for long.

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #stucky #stucky fanfic #stucky fanfiction #idiots in love #confused steve rogers #gay bucky barnes #modern day au #no powers

12 notes · View notes

boymeetsweevil · 6 years

Text

For Science 4/7

Grouping: Reader x Nerd!Jungkook

Word Count: 9.6k (im sorry its so long!!)

Warnings/Themes: definitely probably nsfw but purposefully not that many again. drunk jungkook being angry and then clingy, idiot kook, making out? ANGST?? Hoseok being the slimiest being on the face of the earth,

Summary: Jungkook asks you to let him watch you get off. For science.

A/N: I would like to thank @b-angst-tan for beta reading this series as it is so far. I also would like to tag @m-icdrop , @jiminslye & @ephemeral-mindset to let you know that i finally got my shit together and posted lmao. hopefully i didnt leave anyone out who wanted to be tagged. if i did im very sorry and if you want to be tagged for subsequent posts, just DM me and let me know :)

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 5, part 6, part 7

You wonder if maybe you should have chosen something more weather appropriate as the chill of the still early air nips at your stockinged ankles. It was a hard choice: The fleece-lined sweatpants with the dried tide pod stuck at the hip or something cute and feminine so you could play catch-up with whatever nice thing Yoori was wearing. The sight of Yoori in a slightly similar outfit of an elegant pea coat and demure pleated skirt convinces you that you made the right decision. But while your anxiety about picking the right clothes wanes, a sudden wave of exhaustion hits you. Normally you would be able to rest on a Saturday after 90 minutes of contorting yourself into endurance-testing positions, but today you had no time to untangle mentally—only physically—as you rushed through a shower to give yourself enough time to run to your apartment to grab a change of clothes.

Yoori looks up from her phone and sees you approaching her where she stands by a Starbuck’s storefront. A large grin splits her face, revealing a pair of adorable dimples on each cheek. You’re not expecting her to shove her phone into her coat pocket so she can run over to you and crush you in her arms.

“Hi, how are you!”

“Oh, uh, I’m good. How are you settling in?” Her grasp is fairly constricting , but you try not to appear shaken as you spit her hair out your mouth.

“I’m doing fine. I leased my apartment while I was away so, I’m still at the hotel until that contract ends. But that’s only for a few more weeks. After that I’ll move back in and really be at home. You smell lovely by the way. What scent is that?”

“Thanks,” you blink, “It’s just soap.”

“Mm, what kind of soap?”

“The dollar store kind.” She nods with a smile. “Um, where are we going?”

“Just to this little place up on Main Street. It’s called La Lune, have you heard of it?”

“Of course I have. They’re notorious for only ever being un-booked twice a year! And even then it’s just because they’re taking breaks so the owner can fly to her house in Paris.”

Yoori plays with the sleeve of her coat. “I suppose it does have a bit of a reputation. I must have just gotten lucky with their date book.”

“Don’t you need an appointment to get in?”

“Yes,” Yoori trails off.

“Will we be able to even get in? I-I didn’t call ahead to make a reservation since you said you’d take care of the plans for today.”

“They said they have an extra spot open for us today since they’re training a new technician.”

You don’t push because you know what they say about looking gift horses in the mouth. But you can’t help but wonder how you could have gotten so lucky on your first attempt to get seen at the nail shop. Any suspicion you have about Yoori’s methods of getting onto the appointment book evaporates when you step foot into the shop.

From looking at the pictures of the interior that you could find on Google images, you know that the design is based off of a bunch of spas that the owner herself went to during her many travels to Europe. All the décor is a novel twist of organic meets minimal with polished woods and metals and clean, sloping lines all existing harmoniously. You sit down in a plush chair in the waiting area while Yoori chats enthusiastically with the woman sitting behind the front desk. She does a little spin for her as they most likely talk about how much prettier she looks since the last time she came to the shop.

After confirming the appointment, Yoori makes her way over and sits next to you. She leans over the arm of her chair to peer over your shoulder at the vials of designer nail polish in your hands.

“Do you know what color you’re going to get?”

“Not yet. I usually just do black since it doesn’t clash and it doesn’t make my fingers look as stumpy”

“What are you talking about? Your hands are precious.” She reaches over to bring one up to inspect. “You have such a nice natural nailbed color. A nude would be perfect.”

“You don’t have to flatter me, I know what my hands are like. We can’t all have perfect OPI model hands, Yoori.”

She grins at your indirect compliment. “You think they’re perfect?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think. Some things are just objective facts.” She’s quiet for a bit, a small expression on her face as she looks at you carefully.

“I think this shade would look good on you”, she picks out a specific soft shade that highlights that mimics that pink tone of your nails. “Plus, its suitable for the winter and spring. So, you could wear it for a while.”

“It’s really pretty. Thanks.”

“I could buy it for you. If you like.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t ask you to do that, you’re already doing so much for me today as is. I—“

“Too late.” She swipes the bottle out of your hand and gets up to go pay.

The guilt is too much for you to sit back and let it happen, so you launch yourself out of the chair and rush past her to the front desk, debit card out and ready.

“I’d like the buy the shade that Yoori has in her hand, please. Thank you.”

Her eyes are wide, but she doesn’t argue, and lets you buy the shade. You give her a pat on the arm and accept the tiny satin drawstring gift bag and try not to think about the chunk of money that just left your account.

You can only assume the rest of the nail appointment is nice but you can’t know for sure. You do know that you must have enjoyed yourself because you promptly fall asleep two minutes into the hot rock hand massage that comes with every booking. Yoori snapped a quick picture of your lax dreaming face and woke you up when the technician asked her what shape you wanted your nails. Leaving the salon finds you refreshed and with a beautiful manicure.

“Feeling hungry yet,” Yoori asks after she catches you staring wistfully at a random pedestrian with a bagel. “There’s still time for it to be brunch at the place I was talking about.”

“Yeah. It’s just too bad my nails are all nice now,” you joke. “Saturday mornings are for ribs at my house.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. They don’t have ribs on their brunch menu, I don’t think. Do you want ribs? I can check and see if there are any barbecue places that are open for lunch.” She fumbles for her phone and types frantically like she didn’t just get a hundred-dollar manicure.

“Yoori, Yoori, hold on! I was just kidding. There’s no way in hell I’m messing these nails up. I’m almost considering just drinking water for lunch so I don’t have to use my hands.”

“Wow, you…really got me.” She lets out a breath of relief before side-eyeing you. “Are you sure you don’t want ribs?”

“Positive.”

“Good,” she chuckles.

The two of you make small talk about what brought each of you to engineering as you take walking directions from Yoori’s phone. The walk ends at a pretty looking place with a yet another French sounding name. It’s filled to the brim with fresh flowers, giving the air a sweet scent that has your mouth watering even more. You take a chance and allow Yoori to order for you, trying not to be suspicious of the strange cheese dish she orders as an appetizer.

“—And that’s how we met Tae. We didn’t meet Hoseok until about a month later when he spilled his drink on me in line for the comic book signing at the campus bookshop that one year.”

“I think I remember that day, actually,” Yoori blinks up as if sifting through the memory in mid-air.

“Oh! Did you go? I feel like I would have noticed another girl there. I think I could count all of us there on one hand.”

“No, I wasn’t there. I’m not a comic book person actually. I just remember seeing all the people coming back in cosplay. There was actually this one really beautiful green elf costume I saw on my way to class. There were lights woven into the fabric and everything—I almost took a photo.”

Your cheeks heat up and you duck your head to take a sip of your extremely expensive blood orange mimosa. “That was actually me.”

“Was it really? Did you make it yourself?”

“No—well, yeah, I did the bulk. But Jungkook helped me a lot and Tae helped me find the materials.”

“And Hoseok?”

“Hoseok scratched his ass and watched.”

“Wow, I can’t believe that was you. It’s like destiny. We must have been meant to meet,” she lays a hand next to yours. You can’t help but notice how well the color of her pastel nails goes with your nude.

“Yeah, I suppose so. But enough about me, I feel like I’ve just been blabbering on and on about my friends.”

“No, I love hearing about them. I always envy people with lots of stories to tell about their friends. I feel like I have to ask,” she trails off, a shy smile splitting her face. “What’s it like being the only girl in that friend group?”

“It’s…only mildly frustrating,” you say with a laugh as your food arrives. It smells wonderful and given the amount of truffle shavings, you’re glad you chose to come here on a day that you weren’t paying.

“How so?”

“I mean, you know how guys are and you know how STEM guys are. Add to that the fact that they aren’t getting laid and you have a very interesting strain of emotional constipation.” Yoori nods along understandingly. “And let’s not forget all the stupid questions they ask me since they can’t ask any other woman.”

“That sounds like it might be frustrating.” You chuckle at her diplomatic tone.

“I mean it is, but they’re nicer than most guys and they mean well.”

The sly smile appears again and she leans forward to create a bubble of privacy.

“Nothing more than platonic has ever happened between you and one of them?”

Thankfully, a waiter rushes by and bumps the table a little and you can use that as an excuse for suddenly choking on your food. You certainly weren’t expecting her to inquire about your sex life so early into the conversation, and the irony of the situation isn’t lost on you. Of course, the apple of Jungkook’s eye would ask you about which of your guy friends you’ve ever screwed around with.

You blot at your face with a cloth napkin. Luckily for you, the way you look when you’ve narrowly avoided asphyxiation and when you’re concealing guilt is very similar. “Oh my god, please. I’m trying to enjoy this food, not regurgitate it. But to answer your question, no. They’re not my type. They’re too…” you make some abstract gesture in the air with your fork and Yoori nods.

“What about Jungkook, then? Surely, he’s decent otherwise I’m sure you would have warned me by now.”

“No, he’s nice. He’s a little out of it sometimes, but that’s always been his thing, you know? But he’s really kind and warm and funny in his own way. Plus, he’s in love with you so I don’t think you have to worry about him doing the man-child thing too much.”

Yoori blushes and shifts in her seat, looking a little uncomfortable. “Yes, I figured as much.”

“Can I ask what took so long for you two to finally meet up? I just—I know he’s been contacting you for a while now.”

“It’s complicated,” she sighs.

“I can keep up.”

“You could say I’ve just always been very wary of the men in our department. They’re not your average guys, but they’re still men. They still want the same things from you. And,” she looks away from you to continue. “I wasn’t sure if Jungkook was that way as well. So, I kept my distance. This must seem pretty suspect to you. Especially since it happened after he got put on the department website. I’ve heard what some people have been saying.”

Your hands fly out to console her. “Oh my god, of course not. That makes total sense. You’re not obligated to entertain everyone who expresses interest in you. I get it.”

“Oh, gosh, I feel so bad.” She hangs her head in her hands and you watch helplessly as her hair nearly falls into her water glass. When you inquire why, she shakes her head with guilt. “Jungkook never outright expressed an interest in dating until a few weeks ago. All the times before that, he’d been a perfect gentleman via text. But it was the way he would stare at me in public with those…those moonpie eyes!”

“He does look like that sometimes. Especially with those glasses.” She points at you like you’ve hit the nail on the head.

After doing a cursory look around the restaurant to make sure no one around will be able to hear her confession, she elaborates. “It was just so obvious how he felt and I was so used to guys feigning wanting to be platonic friends only to corner me in the parking lot after what was supposed to be a friendly dinner out. I-I couldn’t trust him. But then I heard that you were friends with him and I decided I would give it a chance.”

“Why would you trust him just because of me?”

“I have my reasons. And I just figured if you were willing to be friends with him, he might not be so bad. Plus, my mom has been pestering me about getting married and I wanted to get her off my back.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re giving him a chance. It means the world to him and he can finally stop pining silently. When is your first date,” you ask neutrally. Although you know that as soon as you get a date, you’ll have to terminate your weekends with Jungkook.

“Oh well we haven’t really discussed anything like that. I think he might ask about it soon, though. I’ll keep you posted.” The little eye roll and laugh she lets out breaks the heavy mood and you try to steer the conversation in a lighter direction.

“Tell me about your friends, Yoori.”

“Me? Well, I probably don’t have as much to say as you do. Most of my friends have long since finished the program and I’ve been so busy with my dissertation that I just don’t have as much time as I used to for hanging out and stuff like that.”

“I thought you were friends with Sunyoung. The bio double major? Jungkook said you were pretty close.”

“Well, he’s right. At first, we were. She’s been really busy ever since she got engaged, so,” she trails off.

“To that Jaehyun guy, right? But, wait,” you drop your fork as the details fall into place. “Weren’t you guys all friends? And didn’t they get married like half a year ago?” Your heart breaks when you realize Yoori may have been alone for at least 6 months while working.

“I could tell I was making things difficult by third wheeling, so Sunyoung suggested I give them some space.”

You were pretty certain you saw Sunyoung and Jaehyun hanging out with a few of the other women in the engineering building on the regular when you went to print things for class using the department printer. Even with her indirect language, it’s pretty clear what happened between Yoori and her friend and you don’t push. Though you do feel bad for the animosity you felt towards her when she first introduced herself.

“Well, I’m glad we met. It’s nice to finally have a new girlfriend,” you say. She looks up at you with slightly dim eyes but perks up when you lace your fingers together briefly.

The smile she gives you is brilliant and infectious. “Me too. So much,” she says quietly.

When brunch ends, Yoori suggests continuing your stroll so you can walk off the post-food sleepiness. The weather is a bit brisk and there are unanswered texts from Jungkook on your phone, but you don’t say no and keep the notifications unread. Something about the fact that you’re in the shopping district with a pretty manicure and your pretty friend makes you feel good. Good in a way that you haven’t felt in a really long time.

You link arms and window shop for hours, though it doesn’t feel like it. She pulls you into store after store because she saw something that she thought would look ‘splendid’ on you. Somehow you manage to look past her imploring eyes and put the designer garments back on the rack, but not until after she’s made you try them on and spin around in them so she can sing your praises. While you browse each shop, you make comments about the other shoppers or the items that make her dissolve into giggles or make her cheeks flare up with a warm blush and a gaping, incredulous smile. By the time you finally part ways, you almost don’t want to get into the cab she’s called for you, but your feet are aching and the sun is starting to set. She blows you a theatrical air kiss and makes a surprisingly dorky ‘call me’ gesture with her hand that has you covering your face so she can’t see how hard you’re smiling. When you step out to face Jungkook’s building, the mood of the day’s outing lingers on you like a perfume. Or maybe it’s a halo. Either way, Jungkook notices something about you is slightly different when you finally arrive at his doorstep.

“Hey,” you greet him without looking and instead focus on getting your feet out of the little heeled booties you’d been wearing for so long.

“You changed?” His voice is muffled from where he lays with his cheek smushed into the sofa. The xbox controller in his hand dangles as he takes in your appearance. “When did you do that?”

“I went back to my house after yoga. I couldn’t go meet her in a rank t-shirt and the sweats that I slept in.”

When he doesn’t say anything, you turn to see why he’s so silent. One look at the handful of empty beer bottles sitting neatly by the floor by his feet lets you know what the deal is.

“You been drinking, Jeon?” Jungkook when he’s drunk is quite the handful, but the owlish way he blinks at everything when there’s liquor in his system is almost funny enough to make the rest of his drunk antics worth it.

“Yep,” he hiccups. He tries to shoot finger guns at you but almost ends up flipping you the bird.

It draws a string of giggles out of you. He squints and takes in your frizz free hair, your glowy skin, your nice blouse and skirt, the easy way you walk over to the couch to sit by him. His stare is tangible.

“What?”

“You’re really pretty,” he rasps and his hand reaches out without his permission to trace the swell of your cheek.

His comment takes you by surprise and you can only laugh awkwardly and lean out of his reach, unsure of what to do with such a blatant compliment.

“Wow, I spend one afternoon with Yoori and you’re calling me pretty? She must have rubbed off on me real good.” You take the controller out of his hands to un-pause the game of Zelda he was playing.

“S’not cause of her. ‘S cause you’re not hiding,” he mumbles before picking up the other controller that was laying off to the side. His comment doesn’t reach your ears which he’s secretly glad for. “You want a beer?”

“Sure.”

He reaches over the arm of the couch to fish out one of the leftover full bottles and hands it to you. He doesn’t say anything while he watches you chug half of it, meanwhile nudging the inside of his cheek with his tongue. A classic sulking Jungkook pose.

“Oh my god, what? Are you mad I got to spend the day with her and you didn’t?”

He blinks, surprised, when he realizes that he’s actually not mad about that. Rather he’s mad you spent so little of the precious Saturday with him, though it wasn’t clear at first. To think that he’s jealous of Yoori is funny enough to break him of his brief pouting session.

“Yeah,” he fibs, “but it’s fine.” He scoots clumsily nearer next to you. “You’re here now and there’s still the rest of the weekend.”

“That’s true. But I don’t want to play Zelda. Let’s do Mario Kart?”

“Loser each round has to take a shot and winner picks the next course?” He’s already stumbling his way back to the kitchen to pull the tequila bottle someone left in his fridge a while back and a pair of plastic shot glasses.

“Is there any other way?”

It takes three rounds, the first two of which are Rainbow Road, but you quickly catch up to him in terms of tipsiness level. Your whole body feels like its vibrating, and the tequila makes it seem like your blood is carbonated. Like you could float away at any moment. By a streak of luck and then redirecting to Bowser’s castle, you manage to get in the winning position. You’re on a roll and get cocky enough to start gloating, egging Jungkook’s underlying competitive nature on.

“Shit,” he curses under his breath as you cross the finish line 9 seconds before him. His stomach feels sloshy after four shots and the bottles of beer he downed earlier. You slam down his, now full, shot glass in front of him, spilling some of the clear liquid onto the table.

“That’s like, what, your fourth one? No, wait, it’s your fifth one. My bad.” You stick out your tongue as you perch next to him, pressing yourself to his back and reveling in the way he grimaces at the shot. “If I had known you would make the game so easy, I would have stayed out with Yoori.”

You’re so busy teasing him about his slow gaming reflexes that you don’t notice the way his smile twitches after he downs the drink. He moves uncharacteristically fast and all you can do is sit there as he tosses the tiny plastic cup to side and then turns to lunge at you. Your back hits the couch cushion with a soft thud and your breath leaves you in a whoosh. If it had just been him caging you into the couch because he was fed up with your taunting, it would be fine. But the moment his fingertips dig into your sides, you lose it and start thrashing.

Jungkook knows better than anyone else that you’re a wild tickling victim, all flailing knees and elbows. Truly a danger to anyone who dares to tickle you. But he’s still smart despite being five tequila shots and a few beers in and uses his bulk against you to keep your movement to a minimum. Perhaps it’s a little cruel to take it out on you, but he still can’t get over the selfish simmering of regret at not suggesting you ditch Yoori in favor of letting him spend the day wrapped up in you. He missed you, is what it really boils down to.

“No,” you cackle underneath him, “No, please! Jungkook this isn’t fair. Please!”

He merely flashes you his teeth in a mean grin and continues until your eyes are shimmering with unshed tears and you’ve stopped squirming so you can keep your bladder in check.

“Jungkook, please,” you beg softly in surrender, toes curling.

Maybe it’s the angle. Maybe it’s the pleading voice you’re using, maybe it’s the sparkly quality of your eyes, or the fact that you smell like lavender. The color, not the flower, he notes. Whatever it is, his eyes fall closed automatically and he leans in to slot his mouth over yours. It’s a slow kiss and even though his tongue swipes across the seam of your lips, it has a chaste feeling still. You wriggle your arms out from under his weight and push him off you slowly. Thoughts of Yoori float around in the back of your mind and you can’t turn them away without feeling awful.

“We can’t get into anything today,” you snap and smooth out your skirt. “I got my period while I was out.” You wince when the lie comes out, but you don’t know if there’s any other way to put enough distance between you so you can keep your head straight.

He watches you look around until you spot your overnight bag at the end of the room. “Are you leaving?” His tone bleeds annoyance and takes on a sharp edge.

“Yeah,” you say like it’s obvious. Because it kind of is and the longer you stay, the weaker your resolve gets. “We can’t fool around if I’m on the rag.”

“Just because we can’t fool around, doesn’t mean I want you to leave.” He’s thinks for a second. “Do you want to leave?”

“Well, if we don’t fool around, I should probably go. Otherwise, why the hell am I here?”

His frustration flares up once more and you’re surprised that he’s as upset as he is. “Because I want you to be? And because maybe you want to be here too? Is that so weird? You said yourself this wasn’t anything to make a big deal of.”

“It’s not. But—”

“Then why the hell are you leaving?” He rakes both hands through his hair until he looks frazzled and barks out a sarcastic laugh. You’ve never seen him so angry with you before and strangely your first instinct is to get angrier.

“As opposed to sticking around? To do what?”

“I don’t know. Anything? We could play Mario Kart until our eyes bleed. You could let me practice kissing you and feeling you up all night. Or we could just be silent and drink until we both pass out. I really don’t care just…tell me what you want. Just stay if you want to stay.”

Your cheeks warm at his blunt words, but you put your bag down. He lets out a sigh of relief when you don’t charge out the front door, but he tenses up again when you head out the living room and only relaxes finally when he hears the shower start up. After nearly half an hour, you emerge looking squeaky clean and a little guilty in sweats. He’s not sure what the cause of the guilt is, but he tries not push. You shuffle over to stand in front of him, the sheepish curve of your shoulders making you look tiny.

You hesitate for a second before planting a knee on either side of his thighs and seating yourself in his lap. Your arms come to wrap around the breadth of his shoulders and you rest your cheek on top of his head.

“How was your day,” you mumble into the strands of his shiny chestnut hair.

He preens silently at the affection that he didn’t realize he’d been craving all day and his arms mirror yours. They come up to snake around your waist as he reclines a bit and shifts so he can relax into the couch without jostling you. Out of all of the things you’ve started physically doing with Jungkook, cuddling with him like this might be his favorite thing to do. There’s something incredibly satisfying about getting to bury himself in your scent and softness.

“Fine. Got my work done, skyped with RealiCorp. Met Tae for lunch. Tried to call you to see if you wanted to do dinner with us, but I guess you were busy. How was your time with Yoori?”

“It was,” you sigh, looking for the right word. “It was really fun. Honestly, its really nice to talk with another girl for a change. I’m glad we were able to.” He hums sympathetically and squeezes you a little tighter. “She’s really nice. You’ll be good together,” you admit.

He tenses a bit and changes the topic.

“I could fall asleep like this.” It’s the truth. The way your fingers run through his hair and the warmth of your breasts pillowing his head make him drowsy. Though he can’t focus on it as much as he’d like or else he’ll ruin the mood with an awkward boner.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, shifting so he can smile into your t-shirt.

“You’re so…” you can’t get the words out so instead you hastily smack a loud kiss onto his cheek.

It shocks both of you, but he doesn’t look put off. Instead, he merely adjusts his glasses, which you jostled with the force of your kiss. The gesture is so characteristically him that the floodgates open and you keep planting kisses on his face until he laughs and starts trying to catch your mouth with his own. He manages one or two cheeky kisses on your lips, but you swerve around enough to keep things PG. He huffs and keeps trying, one of his hands coming up to grab at your arm and keep you still. He leans forward, forcing you to lean back in his lap until you can’t anymore without risk of falling. When you clutch at his shoulders to maintain your balance, you’re right where he wants you.

Your eyes are squeezed shut as he brushes his nose against yours. It’s cute, he thinks. By now he knows in theory how you feel about period sex, but where’s the harm in kissing?

“Why are you being so shy? I just wanna kiss you,” he scoffs while attempting to nip at your bottom lip.

“Just kissing?” You open your eyes cautiously, lids at half-mast. He nods hurriedly, fingers drumming an impatient beat on the small of your back.

“O-Okay.” You barely get the word out before he’s swooping in with a low contented sound.

Making out just for the sake of making out reminds you of your time with your first boyfriend, the summer before college started. Only this is so much better because it’s Jungkook and because there’s no race to sex like there was when you were 18. Every press of lips is a deliberate choice and when you finally come up for air, somehow, you’re horizontal and are regretting the lie you told terribly.

He pulls away with a kiss-swollen pout and checks the time. When it’s an appropriate hour for bed and he suggests you both retire to the bedroom to watch TV before bed. You’re a little wary at first, but he’s a gentleman and doesn’t do anything untoward. He even lets you take control of his laptop and the HDMI cord while he writes continuously in his journal. You try to peer over at what he’s writing once you recognize it as his sex journal, but he pins you with such an offended look that you can only turn around feeling properly scolded without having actually been verbally addressed. You don’t think too much of the fact that he’s writing in it despite the fact that you haven’t done much in the amorous realm and he wrote on and off the entire day yesterday.

Even after you’ve watched three episodes of Elementary, he’s still writing. You unplug the computer and turn to look at him in his pretzel legged position. Every so often he’ll look over at you and then return to frantically writing in his journal. You try to engage him in an unspoken staring contest, but your eyelids drop closed and prevent you from winning. Only once it becomes clear that you’re trying to sleep does he wedge his journal underneath his half of the mattress and turn off the lights.

Passing through the weekend and into the next week doesn’t suddenly bring things back to normal. Instead it feels as though you’ve entered the twilight zone.

You and Yoori text on and off all of Sunday and into Monday to compare schedules and see when you can meet up for some quality girl time. This means that Yoori has started to come meet you outside your lecture halls when your classes end to walk to the library together and you arrive at your agreed meeting spots with her preferred coffee order. Your nails are holding up amazingly and you tell her so constantly while she smiles at how excited you are at something she often takes for granted.

Yoori suggested you have your your study sessions in the corner of the library coffee shop because the picture window shows all the light snow you’ve been getting and provides a nice form of visual ambiance to work to. Sometimes the guys attempt to crash the sessions. Often times you have to shoo them away by letting them take your ID card to stock up on hot chocolates with extra whip from the front counter. Your funds are depleting at an alarming rate, but it’s better to have the uninterrupted time with your first girl friend in a long time so you can get to know her better.

“So, are you going home during winter break,” you ask one day while typing away at the results section of a lab report. Yoori sits across from you in an oversized cashmere sweater you wish you could pull of half as well as she does. She’s been working silently for nearly an hour and you know she won’t take a break unless you distract her from the work.

At the sound of your voice, her head pops up instantly, her loose bun spilling out of its structure with the movement and cascading down her back. A freshman walking by the table nearly slams into a door trying to keep looking back at the same time. She closes her laptop, completely unaware of her effect on the people in the surrounding area.

“Yeah, I am. I haven’t in the past few years but my grandparents are coming from the countryside, so I should probably go this time.”

“Oh, that’s nice of you. I’m sure they’d all like to see you.”

“Are you going?”

“No,” you give a bittersweet smile as you play with the damp stirring stick next to your drink. “My family lives too far away for me to be able to go home and make the plane ride worth it. I’ll probably see them in the summer, though.”

“Won’t you be lonely? Do you want to come home with me?” Her brow furrows in sympathy and she reaches out to rub at your arm.

“No, that’s okay, I’ll be fine. It’s not my first rodeo, you know. Plus usually some, if not all, of the guys stick around since they live nearby but still want a break from their families during the day. But thank you though.”

“Okay, well there’s still time if you want to change your mind.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Are you almost done?”

“Almost. I’m waiting on my VASP energies to come in and then I can update my poster and I’ll be all set.”

“VASP? Since when do you do chemistry,” you get up to peer at her computer screen.

Yoori pats the open seat next to her and let her explain the very quick favor she’s doing with a professor she’s been in contact with since undergrad when she thought she would be pre-health.

“—So basically, now she’s just waiting to evaluate grain boundary energies to see if the electrolytes we’re using actually have the right structure to make a difference in hydrogen atom velocities. And I’m just here to help with some minor calculations.”

“Oh, that makes sense.”

A small ping from your phone alerts you of an incoming text from ~JK~.

Is Yoori with you?

“Um, I think Jungkook is trying to reach you.”

“Oh! I keep my phone on silent during the day,” she explains and hurriedly switches on the volume before opening whatever texts he must have sent her before he texted you.

“Really?”

“I have yours set on urgent, though.”

You grin. “And why’s that?”

“Because! What if you send me another meme about neural networks? I can’t just let it rot away in my inbox.”

“No one appreciates my memes like you do.”

“Aren’t I great?”

“So great,” you admit with clenched eyes and fists for dramatic feeling.

“I wish I didn’t have to go. I’m enjoying you complimenting me.”

“Oh. Are you headed somewhere?”

“Unfortunately, yes. The energy files just arrived and I’m about to finish entering them. I think Jungkook wants to meet up to discuss things, so I’m just going to pack up now and meet him at the dining commons before the dinner rush kicks in. I’ll text you later.”

“Okay, sure.”

After Yoori packs up to leave, you consider texting Jungkook to ask what he plans on discussing with her, but it feels so clingy and invasive that you’re ashamed of yourself and force yourself to dive into work. The lab report is nearly done, but there are a few articles you could read to get further ahead in your classes. It takes a long while, and you work through the usual dinner time to do it, but you manage to finish thanks to having turned your phone off as soon as Yoori left.

When you turn it back on there are a few recent messages from Taehyung and Hoseok inquiring about late night munchies plans. You figure eating with them is better than eating soup alone in the middle of the nearby convenience store. And better than ignoring the messages in favor of going home early to have pity sleep for dinner. You text them back saying that you’ll meet them in 10 and pack your things up.

You arrive at the smoothie place feeling haggard and not ready to balance Taehyung’s energy and Hoseok’s chaotic existence. The bright side is that there is a medium chocolate shake sitting in the empty seat at the tiny high table they’ve managed to save. You greet them with a tired smile and immediately suck down the drink, reveling in the way the chocolate is already lifting your spirits a bit.

“You look like shit,” Hoseok greets you. Taehyung slaps his arm, but turns to you with concerned eyes.

“Are you sleeping?”

“Why are you guys acting like you don’t see me passed out throughout random parts of the day 80% of the time?”

“Because you don’t look like you do,” Hoseok quips. At your blank stare, he goes back to innocently sipping his guava juice. “Just looking out for you, buddy.”

“Yeah, well I slept all of this weekend, thank you very much. What about you guys? You get up to trouble at the Dairy Queen again? Is that why we’re here this time?”

Tae nods somberly. “Hobi put lit firecrackers in their dumpsters again. But this time he almost caused their elderly delivery guy to go into cardiac arrest.”

“Something is wrong with you.” Hoseok merely winks at you in response.

“The worst part is that I didn’t even have anything to do with it, but they still wouldn’t let me in, even when it was just me and Kook,” Taehyung whines.

Hoseok snorts. “Ok, that’s on you. You were my accomplice even though you technically didn’t touch the fireworks but people remember your face better than they do mine. Should have waited at least a week before trying to go back in there.”

“Wait, this was all in one weekend?”

“Yeah,” Tae reaches over and dips a fry into your cup. “The fireworks were Friday, after game night. And then we tried to go in on Saturday, but they wouldn’t let us in. We tried calling you and everything.”

“You’re mad at me now? It’s not like I could have helped you.”

“Yeah, you could have,” Hoseok corrects, gesturing to your general chest area. “You’ve got the tits for that sort of thing.”

“Why are we friends,” you ask him with a soulless smile.

“Because you won’t let me motorboat you.” His response is immediate and just as dry. It spooks you a little.

“Well, I’m gonna go. I would say it’s been fun, but it hasn’t.”

“Wait!” Taehyung scrambles out of his chair and helps you back into yours. “You can’t leave. Jungkook might be done soon and said he’ll try and meet up with us. It’ll be the first time we’ve all been out together in such a long time.”

“We literally saw her on Friday,” Hoseok groans and tosses his head back in what looks like a mini tantrum. You roll your eyes.

“That was at Kook’s house, that’s not ‘out’. It doesn’t count.” Taehyung turns to plead with you, eyes big and starry, with a comical pout on his face. “Please stay? For me? Ignore him. I do.”

“Hey!”

“Fine,” you sigh before shaking your empty cup. “But I need another one of these. And Hobi is buying.”

“Like hell I am.”

“Do I have to remind you that if it weren’t for you and your whipped cream fixation, I wouldn’t be in the red for dining dollars and I might be able to afford my own drinks from time to time? You owe me, Jung.” You try to poke his sternum menacingly, but he moves to snap his teeth at your finger and you quickly pull back with a shriek. He agrees, though its reluctantly at best.

While Hoseok waits in the line to order your refill, Taehyung scoots his chair closer to yours. Carefully, he attempts conversation.

“How are you holding up?”

“With what, work? It’s the same as always. Tedious.”

“No, I mean with…Did Kook not tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“That he planned to officially ask Yoori out tonight,” his voice is quiet and uncertain.

“Oh. No, he didn’t tell me. But, it’s not like its our right to know. He’s an adult. H-how did you find out, though?”

“He told me.”

“And me,” Hoseok says as he sets down the second milkshake in front of you.

“I see.”

You start drinking on autopilot, too busy thinking about why Jungkook wouldn’t tell you such big news despite your being his best friend. You figure maybe he found out about your big fat crush on him and decided he’d rather tiptoe around you than have to let you down gently. Or maybe he just didn’t care enough about you enough to tell you these things now that Yoori was in the picture. What’s good is that the latter thought doesn’t make any resentment towards Yoori rise in your stomach. Instead you just want to curl up in a ball and wonder you did in your past life to deserve such a horrendous love life. Or, you suppose, lack thereof.

“He just shared his location. I think he’s on the way,” Taehyung tentatively disrupts you from zoning out any further.

If you hurried, you could probably take the campus shuttle home and be on your way home before Jungkook arrives, but part of you wants to see how he’ll explain his decision to you. You decide to stay because you don’t want to be anything less than supportive of his new relationship though it’s kind of crushing you in the process.

“Tell him to hurry up, then. You know what happens when I drink cold things,” your voice is light and a little bouncier than is appropriate and you know Taehyung knows what’s going on in your head. But Hoseok doesn’t and you don’t want him to.

Jungkook arrives 10 minutes later with Yoori in tow. She looks sheepish until she sees you sitting at the table and her dimples make an appearance. She runs ahead of Jungkook to envelope you in a hug. You’re still working on the physical boundaries of your friendship given that you’re not a huge fan of suffocation. Still, you pat her arm and let her get her fill before pulling back and offering up half of your chair. She gratefully accepts it and links arms with you immediately after settling down. Everyone scoots closer to open up more space and Jungkook pulls up a seat as well.

“It’s good to see you both, again,” Yoori chirps politely. Hoseok melts at the sound of her voice and beams at her. It’s gross.

“We’re good. It’s nice to see you so often now.” Taehyung chances a look at you. The initial shock of watching you and Yoori become fast friends apparently still hasn’t worn off. You don’t blame him but he’s so obvious about it.

“It is, isn’t it? You guys are just so fun to be around.”

“We like hanging out with you too, Yoori.” Hoseok’s voice climbs almost half an octave trying to sound so abnormally accommodating. Everyone else tries to contain their laughter. “You know, you still haven’t come visit me at the dance studio. I’m starting to get hurt feelings.”

“W-well, it’s just that I’ve been so busy and I still haven’t figured out a gap in my schedule when I can properly come see you. I’m very sorry,” she squeezes your arm unconsciously as she bows her head a little to him in apology. Your pulse picks up sympathetically for her.

“Hobi, if she wanted to see you do sweaty body rolls in an empty room, don’t you think she would have done it already?” When his smile twitches at your comment you add a quick, “I’m only trying to be realistic. I’m looking out for you, buddy.”

Yoori hisses your name in your ear, but you can tell that she’s trying not to smile at your sharp wit from her tone of voice.

“Anyway,” Hoseok starts up again, “Yoori, don’t you and Jungkookie have some good news to tell us all?”

Yoori’s cheeks redden at the sudden shift in topic and she looks to Jungkook for help. His face is similarly pink with embarrassment, but he still clears his throat like he’s about to make a toast.

“It’s not a big deal. I just wanted to say that I can’t do game night this Friday since I’ll be having dinner with Yoori in town.”

“You’re all welcome to join us, if you like,” she quickly amends. Your eyes widen and you swoop in to help Jungkook save face. You know it probably took him a lot to muster the courage to ask her out in the first place and if you don’t do anything, you know Hoseok will gladly wriggle his way in and ruin the date.

“Oh, we couldn’t possibly intrude on your dinner. But, thank you, for the offer. Right Tae? Right, Hobi?” Hoseok sulks but wordlessly agrees to stay out of their date.

“Yeah,” Taehyung jumps in to help you. “We’ll just have the game night at my place. I want to play cards anyway, instead of console games this time around.”

Everyone nods until the awkward air dissipates and all that’s left is the background noise of the diner and the sound of people finishing their drinks. The cold from your shakes starts to seep into your bones and you decide to use this as your exit ticket.

“Hey, sorry to ruin the fun, but I’m freezing and I didn’t bring a real jacket, so I think I’m gonna head home. You guys have fun without me, though.”

“You can just wear my sweater,” Jungkook pipes up and begins to pull the thick, woolen pullover he was wearing over his head. But you hold your hand up to stop him as you get down from your stool and collect your trash.

“No, Kook, you’re fine. I’m just gonna use the cold as motivation to get to the bus quicker. Have a good night, everyone.”

“It’s colder out there. At least take his sweater,” Yoori calls out to you. “For me,” she adds when you look like you’re thinking about it.

“Fine,” you huff as you take the sweater from Jungkook. You slide it on in front of everyone so they can have their worries assuaged. It’s still toasty from his leftover body heat and smells like his laundry detergent. He might not get it back for a while. “See? I’ll definitely be fine now.”

“Why don’t I go with you? I’ve still got a robotics assignment I have to work on. Plus, we can split cab fare instead of waiting for the bus.” Tae shrugs on his own coat and goes to stand by you.

“Okay.” You ignore his probing look until you finish waving to everyone and leave the restaurant.

Taehyung shoves his hands in his pockets as you request a ride home through an app on your phone. The silence is companionable, but the waves of pity and sympathy rolling off Taehyung are damn near palpable and you’re about to burst if you don’t address it.

“Just say what you’re thinking. I can practically hear it anyway.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m not 12. I’m not going to be devastated just because they’re going out on one date.”

“Yeah, but,” Taehyung hesitates for a bit, trying to cushion the blow, “You know it’s just a matter of time before they become official, right?”

“I know that too,” you wince when your voice cracks a little.

“If you ever need anything, you know we’re here for you.” You raise an incredulous eyebrow at the implication that Hosoek would do anything less than laugh in your face if you came to him looking for comfort. “Well, I am, at least.”

“I know, Tae. Thank you.” You let him wrap you in a one-armed hug, but don’t let him pull away so you can steal his warmth as you wait for your car to arrive.

Yoori’s apartment is nicer than anything you’ve ever seen. So much so that you have a hard time believing that you even live in the same town. It’s technically not your first time visiting her building and you’ve called many a late night cab from her plush lobby. You’ve even started to make small talk with her doorman since you’re there so often. But something was keeping you from coming up and visiting her actual apartment. All the times you’d hung out off campus had been at your place or at Jungkook’s place. There had been a lull in all that since Jungkook announced that they’d be going on a date only a few days prior.

After that fateful day, it was hard to act like there hadn’t been subtle changes in the way people were acting. Jungkook was suddenly super busy or always at the gym and couldn’t ever pick up your calls. And when he did return them it was only when you were dead asleep and couldn’t pick up your phone. For that, you were actually kind of grateful because you were certain that the next time you saw him on your own, he would try to break it to you that he couldn’t return your affections and that you could no longer be friends.

Taehyung and Hoseok, on the other hand, were still somewhat normal, but Hoseok was too excited about Yoori’s unofficial entry into the friend group and Taehyung kept soft-touching you like he could take up your pain through osmosis. Yoori was the only one who hadn’t suddenly turned weird and it was only because she wasn’t aware of the chaos floating around you all.

When she’d asked you to come shopping with her on the high street, you had a hunch that it was so she could get some new outfits for the many date nights with Jungkook ahead. You didn’t expect her to try and rope you into buying things as well, though you managed to get out it by truthfully explaining to her that Taehyung and Hoseok were still using your student ID like it was a credit card in someone else’s name and you had to be frugal as a result. But just when you thought you were in the clear as you approached her building, she invited you up to help her style the stuff she bought and stick around for dinner. To keep from having to explain yourself, you said yes.

But you instantly regretted it as you stood in the middle of her chicly decorated bedroom with picture windows and realized that despite the fact that you were extremely fond of Yoori, there was still a very small part of you that wished you had her life. It felt juvenile and reminded you that even after you stopped being a teenager you still had a ton of self-esteem issues left to address. The sooner you finished helping her with her outfits, the sooner you could maybe curl up on her couch and down the bottle of wine you bought while you were shopping earlier.

“I don’t think I like this one as much now that we’re not in the store anymore.” Yoori frowns at her reflection from inside the walk-in closet. The fact that she had a walk-in closet did not surprise you, but your mouth still dropped open when you the little seating area and the full-length panel of mirrors inside of it.

You finish picking out an alternative and then call out to her. “Come out and let me see it?”

She emerges in a short and slinky dress that would be perfect if it weren’t for the way it slouched at the neckline. It seemed intentional in the store with the way the salesman was pushing hard for her to buy it, but now it looked oddly frumpy.

“I think I see what you mean. Turn?” She obeys and turns gracefully, the skirt flaring out around her hips. “Why don’t you try these? They’d look amazing with that red blouse you wore when we went to the movies that one time.” You hand her some satiny trousers that she picked up on a whim but ended up really liking. If she paired them with red, Jungkook’s favorite color, he’d eat his heart out.

“You’re right, I think this is the one,” Yoori smiles widely at you and comes out with two pairs of shoes in her hand. Silently you point to the pair that would go better with the outfit, the ones with a subtle gold traces etched into the stiletto heel.

“If you want, you can wear your hair in a ponytail. Show off your neck, he’ll like it.”

“Really?” She laughs, slightly bashful. “Is he a neck guy?”

“For you? He’s a neck guy, hand guy, lips guy, ass guy. You name it.” As soon as Yoori hangs up her outfit for the date and puts it on her closet door, you flop face first into her bed, exhausted in so many ways.

“Why do you know so much about his, um, preferences? Is he vocal about that sort of thing?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” your voice is muffled by her bedspread.

“And are you not vocal about that sort of thing, then?”

Luckily she can’t see your face as you roll the question around in your head. You’re no prude and if it weren’t for the unfortunate series of events that is your life, you would love nothing more than to swap sex stories with Yoori as a form of bonding. But given that you can’t and you don’t really want to end up having to listen to her talk about sex with him when it comes, you decide one more white lie won’t hurt.

“I’m just a really private person, so I don’t really do that.”

“Good to know,” she chuckles and you miss the disappointed look on her face when she realizes she won’t be able to share with you. Although, it would make sense that you wouldn’t want to hear her talk about your childhood best friend like that. “What do you want for dinner?”

“Sleep.”

“Are you tired? How about we take a rain check and think about it again in a few hours? I’m gonna go come up with some slides for my coding class, but you’re welcome to nap in here and I’ll wake you up before it gets too late.”

“That…sounds great. Thanks, Yoori.”

“No problem.”

You wait until she closes her bedroom door and you’re certain you’re alone. When the sound of the soft music that she plays when she works drifts through the speakers in her living room, you crawl up to the head of the bed, get under the covers, and cry into the pillow. The sleep that follows is amazing though and you think it’s half because your body was running on fumes and half because Yoori has the best mattress you’ve ever slept on.

#bangtan bookclub #bttnetwork #networkbangtan #btswriters #bts scenarios #bangtan scenarios #bts fanfction #bangtan fanfic #bts imagines #bangtan imagines #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenarios #jungkook imagine

2K notes · View notes