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calypso-finale · 1 year ago

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Ninety Nine. Part 2

Halle got into my bed, I just woke up and I don’t even remember falling asleep, I am drained really. Halle and I didn’t speak because I was such in deep thought after all that happened, I didn’t like to see Oakley in that position “how you feeling?” Halle asked “tired” I mumbled “well I stayed awake kind of, and I like text Oakley, well messaged him on Insta. He read it and ignored me but it’s everywhere, like it’s made news about this” shaking my head “my parents were calling me, but I wasn’t in the mood to pick up” Halle laughed “I know, your mom called me I said she is ok but tired, so she went sleep. She is fine but the whole fight is on everywhere. Then the pictures of Digga being arrested then ontop of that Oakley walking out with his brother and Wyge but like blood all over him, it’s just a mess but the headlines aren’t cute. They put jealous ex, and people are saying he is an obsessed grown man and that he can’t leave her alone, they aren’t in his favour, but nobody fucking saw the knife, like we saw it. Digga didn’t get arrested for nothing, so I don’t know why nobody reporting that” I sighed out “nobody saw that he grabbed me, that is why he came. I think he saw that, that is when Oakley came out of nowhere and jumped him. Because why else would he, he grabbed me and started to tell you to shut up, he was getting irate. I didn’t like it but I think he saw that and then he jumped in, but he isn’t obsessed, Oakley wouldn’t have come to me all night because he is stubborn, I am mad the headlines are that fuck my life. Not a single person is speaking on him having a fucking knife? Are you joking me” looking at Halle “nothing about that, they ain’t even speaking on Digga just Oakley, so he is getting all the shit from protecting you” I groaned out “I feel bad now, I didn’t want him to do that. I didn’t want him to walk away but he did. Fuck” I am not happy at all “they are being questioned by police also, from the last I know of. Just don’t worry about it, I mean he was there for you because Digga is crazy, like we all know what he is like. He shouldn’t be left alone with you, and I wouldn’t have ever, he don’t like you. He wants to get back at Oakley, that is all it was with him” Halle said “I hate men” I just said.

Putting my phone down “what is momma bear saying?” Halle asked me “she is asking how I am, that if she needs to come. I said no, it’s fine but I am upset for Oakley getting this backlash, he doesn’t deserve this at all, he did that for me. He probably saw me; I was getting a little uptight. He probably saw that he grabbed me and my body language, but my mom said that she is sad that he has been publicise that way and if anything could come out of it meaning club CCTV, so my mom is trying but like him walking out, I didn’t want him to walk out like that, I am mad he did that” shaking my head “he was angry though, like seeing him. He was very angry and just wanted to get out of there because who wants to deal with French police, they are nasty” she has a point “I need to see him, I am sorry, but I know he said that to you in confidence, but I need to talk to him properly. I don’t want this between us because we do make good friends too, he got it all wrong” Halle eyeballed me “he will never speak to me again, don’t!” she spat “how about you say to him how you feeling after what I said, wait you going to see him?” nodding my head “yeah, I told the hotel to tell me when he is back. When you left the room I did it” Halle laughed “and they listen to you?” she pointed “when they knew of who I was yes, I am not just anyone” Halle cackled “I like it, but will he want to see you?” I shrugged “he has no choice, but I need to have a meeting with Dior, I have one scheduled. They just emailed me and said it’s important so I will be on there in a few” Halle cringed “it’s a bad look on them isn’t it” nodding my head “campaign may be in the trash for them, but I will update you, I better look presentable, I look a mess” I got up “love you” Halle said “love you too babe” I am just sick of men thinking they can do that to me.

My phone is off the hook, like I am so busy with everything “give me a fucking moment!” Halle spat, looking up from my phone “we are nearly at his hotel so sorry, yeah what happened was my mom text me saying she got the footage, don’t worry we will spin the narrative and that there is some fan footage around of what really happened, but we will see what she does, she is literally my assistant, or she loves managing things. Dior said he is off the campaign, they apologise, and they feel really bad about what happened, and they want me to be happy. They are sending me flowers, they could not stop saying sorry to me, it was cute. But I just said it’s not your fault, you wasn’t to know I am glad you are taking him off, but I know you want to stick to urban but Central Cee is that, why can’t you use him. I thought why not, I feel bad, and he can model too. They said is that what you want, I said yes but he did nothing wrong as you are seeing. I told the full thing, and they said they will think on it, but I did mention to not ever say I mentioned it but then they said they actually was considering him, but it was a conflict between me and him, as he is my ex. I said no, he is my friend too so we wouldn’t hate it, I would be more then happy to work with someone I trust. I wish they fucking did let him, but I think they will be contacting him soon about it which I am happy about. He deserves some luck; I hate that the blogs are spinning it” the car parked up outside the hotel “you know what they are like, they are even saying two men fighting over you, I had to comment on that one. I said no way, there is no connection there so stop putting a false narrative out there” I feel sick to think they said that “hold on, how you know he would be in this hotel?” I grinned “he is predictable” I grinned “he loves this one, I called, and they confirmed” I smiled “oh you know your man don’t you” rolling my eyes.

Halle is staying downstairs while I go up, I doubt he will tell me to fuck off, but you never know. Knocking on the door, I stepped back awaiting. I am shocked he did that, for him to jump forward and attack him. He didn’t do it for no reason because I was feeling awkward, and I wasn’t liking it at all. I was about to knock again but the door opened, he just stared at me “hey” oh he has swelling all on his nose “hey” he just said, is he going to let me in or not but then he just stepped back opening the door wider. Walking into the room “thank you” I said, looking at my phone but then putting in on silent, I have had enough of it all “how is your nose? It looks ever so sore” turning to him, he let the door close “they packed it, I can’t breathe through my nose” oh he really can’t “that bad” he nodded his head “just a week they said, but it’s not good, like the feeling but I am ok. How are you?” bless him, he can’t even speak now “fine, I come to see you” he nodded his head “I just come back from the police station, gave a statement. They want to charge me for public disorder” he smiled “yeah don’t smile, it’s not funny. Why did you do that?” he shook his head “I saw what he was doing, I saw your body language, nobody else in that section said anything. They saw he grabbed your arm; I wasn’t having that fucking shit. I jumped in, I ain’t letting some dickhead like him do that to you. I don’t regret it, it’s fine” looking at him in sadness “but to see your face like this, I get it ok I do but it makes me sad” he put his head down, his nose is so sore, and he is breathing mad heavy “I bet you’re snoring bad” he chuckled “I think so too, and I don’t snore either” I side eyed him “speak on me we falling out” he chuckled.

He loves to make his face a mess sometimes “I know you did it for me, but I wish you didn’t, he could have stabbed you and then what? You know how much Aziel loves you and you didn’t think about him now you’re here a mess. I sound ungrateful but I get scared for you because he hates so much that he’s willing to do anything to get you gone, he has a knife there and he was ready to use it and it scared me. I appreciate that you was there for me, but you need to be careful, if it wasn’t for you then me and Halle would be panicking because he was being ruthless with us and was being mean so thank you, but he wanted you to come and you did” he looks so unhappy “Oakley what is it?” I asked “nothing, it’s whatever but I was there for you, I peeped his game” he pointed “and he knew you was looking. Don’t mind the headlines, my mother is helping you shocking for her but she appreciate what you did” he nodded his head “well I’m a creep now, I can’t win” the way he is talking now is like he has a no nose, he sounds horrendous “I can’t wait for your nose to be back to normal, I miss your voice” he chuckled “I miss yours too, gets lonely in bed you know” I gasped “how you switched it, that quick” he’s funny “well I’m just saying, you got your toys and I have nothing” he’s very annoying “can we just go to one situation, this whole thing was bad” he sighed out “I know but he was coming at you, I didn’t like it. I was protecting you” I can’t be mad with him “I’m not mad with you, I was scared for you” he nodded his head “shall we go to get some food? You wear a ski mask anyways, you will be ok” he looked at me like I was crazy “we need to talk, we do. But don’t think I’m being ungrateful, I just got scared for you. Lots of things went through my mind, just please” I don’t want him to think I’m a bitch just being ungrateful “I can imagine but I ain’t going like this so we stuck here” he walked off “Oakley, we will have a private room, just gather your stuff and let’s go, we need to properly talk” I said “about what? You said your peace” he retorted “how you been with me, your distance” he walked off to the bathroom; he needs a moment clearly, but we do need to talk. He totally ignored me saying how he is which sucks; he could have answers that.

Only I would get Oakley out, I mean the glares I got because he walked in like a thug to the back room with me. I chuckled “so you keeping that mask on?” I said smiling “yeah why not” he mumbled “you are literally a true Gemini, I can’t even deal sometimes, just take it off. How you going to eat?” He pulled up the mask just exposing his face “there, what you mean true Gemini, what does that mean?” he asked, “be like you, just stubborn but I want you to tell how you feel, after what I said to you?” he laughed “nothing, what you want me to feel. I don’t have any opinion, no comment. We cool, I don’t know why I came here. I am not hungry; I can’t really taste. Senses gone” rolling my eyes “stop being stubborn, please. You aren’t being real; we aren’t cool so speak” he sat back in the chair “nothing to speak about unless Halle spoke?” I put my head down as I ate a fry “so say that then, she told you. What I am saying is I am happy for you, you’re on the good path to be better for next guy, it’s whatever”. I sniggered “did you not listen to me when I spoke? Because to me you only heard what you wanted too, I said I am not looking for a man. Look at how they are, I can’t be bothered with them. You know how toxic I was towards you and now you act like this, what were you still at the club? Why were you there to begin with and watching” he said he don’t want food, but he is eating “watching init, he ain’t a guy you trust. I know him as much as he likes to think he knows me; I don’t fuck with his vibe and how he is, yeah. I saw what he was doing, I don’t regret anything because I am protecting you” I swallowed hard “thank you, I don’t want you to be weird with me or think I am changing myself for another man, that is bullshit Oakley, I am sorry. I told you how I feel, what happened to me. You saw it and you say that?” he looked away from me “you’re not a crazy ex, ignore the blogs and I hope charges are dropped and that the footage can be shown, the knife was there, I saw it. He dropped it, if he stabbed you” I stopped “he hates you and does not care, I was scared for you” I said “and I was scared for you” he said back to me, and it made me quiet.

He said he wasn’t hungry, such a Gemini behaviour “how is the toy situation” I regret telling him “what about it?” he looked at me “you know what you doing with it?” he is so cheeky “you need help” squinting my eyes at him “don’t be rude” he laughed “I am not being rude, it’s kindness. No strings attached, if you need a service I am here” he is so annoying “thank you Oakley” side eyeing him “friends with benefits thing” shaking my head “how was your date?” his eyes widened “how you know that?” he looks shocked “I have my sources so how was it?” he rubbed the back of his neck “weird, she had no banter and then she just wanted to have sex and I wasn’t wanting that, she was cool like but then she isn’t you. What can I say, and I think my sex drive is back, it’s bad” letting out an oh “yeah, I remember that, so like it’s all back to normal?” he nodded his head “so you haven’t had sex since Kenza?” he cringed “pretty much” he mumbled “wow you’re a reborn virgin then” he chuckled “piss off, reborn virgin. But like we can have benefits?” oh he is asking me to have sex with him “I am frustrated I think like that is why I am feeling that” he has put me on the spot “like that? You can barely breathe?” I pointed “oh not now, but like soon. We know each other and I don’t want no other, I like I know you said go to others, but I don’t want that, I know you don’t want that, I made this shit confusing haven’t I. Allow it, I just said really” now why would he do this “you know how I feel for you” he is so annoying “I need to think on it and you need to fix your face” I don’t know what else to say “yeah, yeah. I mean I could get others but I want you the most. So we could you know get benefits out of each other” I sighed out “stop it Oakley” I have to stop him right there “you know you the only one to get away with speaking on things like that to me, because I don’t really want to be knowing that anymore from any other” Oakley just grinned at me, I would have left.

#Chrianna #Chrianna FF #Fanfic #Fanfiction #Chrianna Fanfic #Chrianna Fanfiction

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sparksnevadas · 2 years ago

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I have finished reading the latest GIHASM chapter and I am here to let it be known that I am once again wailing sobbing crying about mumscarian.

I feel like it can’t be said enough but the way you write them together… they’re just so soft. The little domestic scene of Scar and Grian cooking together. The implicit trust between Mumbo and Scar as they talk about how they are doing in the wake of everything. Grian trusting Mumbo to be there while he and Pearl preen and Mumbo getting the courage to speak about his experiences with the HA inspired by Grian. I could probably write a whole novel about how much I love the tender affection between them and how absolutely romantic your depiction of them is <3

(Side note: the way you write cooking has really reminded me that I do indeed love to do that)

The dancing scene needs a special shout-out, okay? I had to keep pausing to hide my face because it was just so good. I love your redscape dynamic so much, I think about them often.

The bit about Bdubs’ driving was great too! You got so much of his chapter into such a short bit.

And the parts about Grian’s complex emotions about the HA </3 they were so realistic and I loved getting to see that (especially with the added context of that post about why you named the chapter as you did).

I know you’ve said you are starting to wrap up GIHASM and while I am obviously excited to see what you come up with next, I am definitely going to miss this AU a lot. Every time I get that AO3 update email it puts a smile on my face and I drop whatever I’m doing to go and read it immediately. I love GIHASM so much and if anyone who is still reading at this point hasn’t read it yet I highly, highly recommend you go and check it out!

void!!! my friend <3 i had not noticed you sent this, i am genuinely sorry!

i love little domestic scenes, even if these idiots wont admit they're in love, they will cook for each other, sacrifice for each other, let each other sleep in and distract each other when its needed.

this is a very minor thing but i feel like in popular media and fic, once a character finds out they like someone, its very fast: attempted confessions, miscommunictions (my dearly detested), etc. etc. my thing is like... i wanted to explore what it would be like to fall in love with your friend over a year and not notice. and what'd be like to figure out you kinda see your nemesis as a friend (and maybe more, as you get to learn more and more about him). and even when you do find out, are you really that quick to turn around and risk something you value so much? maybe, maybe. Im trying really hard to find a balance between the two ends i suppose. its very slow going, but im glad everyone seems to be enjoying the ride? But anyways ya, ya, they are in love, but more importantly, they are best friends :)

(I LOVE COOKING!!!! the recipe for the spanish omelet is a mix between official recipes (putting it in the oven) and my own (adding bell pepper occasionally. it adds flavor and color))

its really funny to me that when i started drafting this fic, my head was so full of redscape stuff. and then i kinda realized i needed to focus on grian, so then i went full scarian mode for a bit. grumbo is the ship i feel like in a way i've had to put on the back burner for most of the fic bc mumbo wasn't "there" for the first half. anyways i love redscape. it consists of one Anxious but sweet man and his Confident but too sweet man wholoves him very loudly (but maybe not loudly enough?). and theyre best friends :) and they were roommates!

<3 <3 <3 i think i havent made it super clear in the fic up until this point that everyone and everything is morally gray, including the like. ig antagonist? of the fic. The HA has good people in it, and it has people who are not so good. everyone has different opinions on what should happen to it, and they are all valid in their own ways. given that a lot of readers were rallying against the HA, i was like :3c time to reveal why grian likes bleaching his wings and why he loves the HA and will always feel mixed emotions about it.

(can you tell i like writing about complicated relationships? lmao)

i have about 2 more story beats to finish off on..... i have also been saying i have two more beats for about 2-3 months. I say "soon", i have no idea how much longer this fic will take to write. for example, i thought of the stuff for this chapter within the last three weeks. so it was a last minute beat add. soooooo idk. "soon" but like. im gonna take any excuse to write more domestic scenes lmao. a meandering "soon"

anyways!!!! hi void my friend!!! thank you so much for this long ask i love long comments so much i love seeing what everyone picks up on and what parts are fun to read!!! genuinely the interview part was nervewracking for me to write bc i was like... i hope i dont sound preachy but journalism is important to me, and morality is important. anyways, i wont ramble any longer, but i lov u!!!

#its void!#gihasm

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thoughtsofadyingsoftwaredev · 1 year ago

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Hello, Tumblr world! For some reason I am drawn to you in the Fall season. My last post was just over a year ago… sorry about that. Not that you, my lovely reader, care - and that is IF anyone reads this! I won't lie I don't care if people read these or not, this is essentially an online journal for me at this point, ha.

So, what's new with me lately, you might ask? Well, I'll break it down:

Still happy with our house. We've made gradual updates to it since moving in, including redoing some old flooring with some new vinyl faux-wood looking stuff. Super nice. Also replaced an old toilet in the process. Next we're eyeballing a bathtub upgrade for one of the bathrooms and big landscaping changes to our back yard.

Got promoted at work to Senior Software Engineer after 3 years. Not bad turnaround time for that title change, in my opinion. My responsibilities shifted from managing the IAM software to managing our search experience for the many different applications we provide.

This primarily means I'm responsible for drafting search document schemas, working with these other teams to get answers on questions they refuse to provide answers to without me having to ask first, and handling the logic for ingesting hundreds of thousands of items of varying types to different search engines. In my 3.5 years of working here, I have enjoyed the challenges of the job. Of course, it's not without it's awful days or days where my head is screeching, but the good days outweigh the bad for me.

Wife and I are still on speaking terms. That's my way of saying we're both as good and happy with each other as ever lol she's my best friend. We both got super interested in NFL this season and watch every Monday and Thursday game and watch Minnesota (wife's favorite team) on Sundays. RIP Vikings post-Cousins injury.

That's about all I can think of life-wise. My 31st birthday was a few weeks ago, and I feel old as shit sometimes LOL I look in the mirror and I see what seems like new wrinkles in new places, my hair is graying in small parts, and I find it hard to stay up late. It's 1:04AM right now and I find this to be the upper range of my limits lol

I had a dream recently that my wife and I died in a freak accident at some theme park (not a specific one, just some weird abstract dreamy one) - from what I can remember we were on what we thought was part of a ride, but what ended up happening is we both fell to our deaths.

After we died, we both were floating over family and friends as spirits, watching our bodies get carried in open caskets. For some reason, I had two huge pieces of hair that went down both sides of my face (this is nowhere near what my hair looks like so no idea why this was).

At first, when I woke up, I kinda had to laugh at it. The overall sequence of events was a bit silly. But I found myself thinking more and more about it throughout today. Who will care if I die? Not in a "bad thoughts" kinda way, but genuinely - what kind of footprint am I leaving in this world? Will people know or care that I die? Probably not, and I think ultimately I'm fine with that, but the dream gave me pause and kinda fucked with me today haha.

Can I tell you a secret Tumblr? I have a burner Facebook account that I use to see how my old friends are doing. I am very anti-social media, and as part of that, have no real ways of keeping up with people from previous parts of my life aside from those who have my cell or email, so this gives me an outlet to see how friends I've made over the years are doing now.

Some of them never left my hometown, which kinda bums me out, because when I think of my time there, I couldn't imagine having stayed. But I have to consider that they may really love the place and have strong ties to it. I don't want to sound mean when I say that, but it's just a very small, quiet town that seems like a place you'd stay if you decided not to attend university or a trade school. And that's perfectly okay, too.

Some are thriving, too! A very good friend of mine recently got married, and I'm thrilled for him. I remember late nights at college talking with him outside of his dorm in the night air, rocking back and forth in a rocking chair, like the ones you see at Cracker Barrel. We'd talk philosophy, religion, girls, music, and much more. He's an awesome, genuinely kind hearted person and I'm glad to see he's doing well. He's not the only one, there are others who are all out there doing their thing, so to speak. I can't say why, but seeing these people I've known at some points in their lives doing well makes me incredibly happy.

Music is always a wonderful memory and hobby for me. Music is what brought most of my friends I've made and I together. I recently started playing guitar again (thank you Rocksmith 2014) and it has been a blast! I recently acquired a dream guitar of mine for awhile now: a Surf Green Fender MIM Strat. I fucking love it.

Piano is still on hiatus and has been for many, many years. I think it might intimidate me a bit. I eventually will have to bite the bullet and revisit it. I plan on using ABRSM resources to find some appropriate pieces for where I'm currently at. I'm hoping I can ramp back up to SOMEWHERE close to where I was when I went to school for music. I realize it may take years, but I think if I devote myself to it, I can achieve it. Honestly the hardest thing will be getting that dexterity back and remembering scales/fingerings/etc. Hopefully by the time I post next, I can report back with some success on that front!

Hobby coding-wise, I'm starting a new project using a new stack (for me): Java (Spring), Vue, and Postgres. My goal is to create a web application for Veterinarians offices for administrative use. This app will handle invoicing, communications with patients, store pet/owner data, store data regarding prescriptions, surgeries, etc., and probably more I'm forgetting. It's a lot of moving pieces, but it presents a fun challenge on both front-end and back-end, and frankly I've seen the most popular competition (Avimark) and it looks like dogshit. So my plan is to work on this for the foreseeable future, get an MVP up, snoop around my local area and see if anyone is interested in testing it out. This will be a long-term project, though. I have some ramping up to do with Vue as I have not used it since it was still in v1.0, so many things have changed!

Started watching Frieren and that shit kicks ass! The music, the animation, the art style. Only 4 episodes in, but it is easily top 5 anime.

JJK Season 2 has been fucking insane. It started off so crazy, I ended up binge reading the manga up until the end of the Shibuya Incident and holy shit. Seeing the Yuuji vs Choso fight animated was a fucking masterpiece!

Games-wise, I've been deep into WoW classic and FFXIV. FFXIV has always been my go-to, but lately I've been doing WoW and I love the customization that is possible within a class (priests, wars, etc builds can vary wildly and that's awesome!).

And I think that's all I've got! I've been drafting this post for the past 20 minutes-ish. I have to start winding down for today. This may be my longest post so far? Not sure, I'll compare it to my others word count-wise after this and confirm!

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boomandblehhhh · 1 year ago

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Hello

I'm going through the worst breakup of my life, and this blog is only my daily update to get over it.

Day 1 wasn't recorded coz i was unable to stop crying and making sense of it. Just to give a background, I'm 23 (F) and he's 29 (M). We met in University and quickly hit it off. I had just gotten out of a very toxic relationship and was still dealing with it and trying to make sense when we met and started falling in love. Things were perfect with him and i don't think it has ever been better. Here i am,8 months later because it was only casual and also with a time limit. He's going to marry soon. I still have a few years. We've decided to stay friends and continue to be honest with each other.

How do you see someone who you so passionately love, fall in love with someone else?

How do you move on when they're right there?

Day 2:

It started out with a panic attack. I went over to his place last night for some work and ended up hooking up. I woke up with a lot of anxiety that he would abandon me. So much that i puked and had hot flushes. I called him at work and told him to reassure me about it.

The day went okay, with my work going on and me taking some time out for myself. I met a friend from a class i had taken and it felt good.

Finally, it was time to see him. We went to the gym together and he seemed off. Maybe tired? Not sure.

I then went out for dinner with my friend's family and called him when i got home. He was busy sending some email. Said he would call back and he did. I spoke to him for about 10 mins before he said he needed his time, and was very mean and rude about it. I'm going to get my periods in 3 days, i am emotional and i am sensitive. I can't handle this right now and i literally begged him to stay and speak to me for just 5 minutes. Again, shut me out. I called him back after a bit and again, shut out. I cried and then texted him that I'm sorry and will be more in check of my behaviour.

My feelings:

It's just day 2, i don't know why he's expecting me to be so normal and calm and like usual. I'm trying I'm genuinely trying so hard but i don't have the emotional security anymore and so i don't really know what to do. I know i will figure it out but i just need some time and not rudeness from him.

I think i know what i should do, i should have a similar fear in my head of letting him go as my friend like i feel for my other friends and then behave with those boundaries. I think that should help. I hope he forgives me for my behaviour today. I really hope. I also hope nothing works out between him and that girl in his office. Any other girl would be okay but i can't be okay with that one person. As petty as it sounds.

Conclusion:

I'm going to write everything here, in case anyone ever bothers to read it. My feelings might be too much for someone or i might be a little too stupid for someone, but this is who i am and this is why I'm here. I don't need the judgement and i don't need anything else.

If there's anyone going through something similar, i hope you find solace in the fact that there's someone out there who's going through the same thing as you are.

Through this writing, i hope to go back in 15-20 days and then see how much I've moved on and how I've saved my friendship with him. To show the world that yes you can be good friends with your exes. To set the new norm.

I love you guys, and I'll try to be as honest as i can about my day, and also try to look at things positively. I have a feeling Tumblr is going to make me feel so much better.

If anyone's reading this, be strong. You got this. You're stronger than you think and believe and you shall definitely overcome this. You're not alone.

Good night!

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baejax-the-great · 4 years ago

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Top Ten

Shepard x Garrus (T)

Read on AO3

Shepard limped into her cabin, the painkillers Chakwas gave her already wearing off. The doctor could heal a broken bone in ten minutes, but the ache lasted. On seeing Garrus sitting at her desk, however, she straightened up, ignoring the jarring pain. He already worried too much.

“I’ve been making a list,” he called over his shoulder, “While you were in the medbay.”

“Oh?”

He swiveled around in her chair. “Top ten worst moments dating a human.”

Shepard snorted and sat down carefully on her sofa, not flinching even once. “Lay it on me.”

Garrus dramatically cleared his throat and held the datapad in front of him. “Number ten. The second time she dragged me along to a rachni infestation.”

“Just the second time?”

He ignored her. “Number nine. That time I saw her feet.”

She snorted again. There were probably people out there who would kill to see her feet. A holo of them would pay for an entire vacation.

“Number eight. That time she released a tank-born krogan onto a space ship. Alone.”

“You love Grunt! You have to admit that worked out. And you weren’t even there for that.”

“He charged you, Shep. He’s got six hundred pounds on you.” Garrus frowned at his list. “Wait, scratch that. Number eight is Pragia.”

“Oh yeah. That planet sucked. What’s next?”

He cleared his throat again, standing up to pace around the room. “Number seven. That time she dragged me into a plague ward.”

Shepard tenderly stretched her leg out. It was really starting to throb. “You know other than that foot thing, these are all highly specific about me and not just, you know, humans. And I apologized for the plague ward. I didn’t think you’d catch it that quickly.”

“Number six,” he continued, “Noveria.”

She laughed. “You really hate the cold for that to rank so high. Remind me to get Kaidan’s mom to knit you a sweater.”

“Number five. The Ardat Yakshi temple.”

That temple was pretty before they blew it up. They’d certainly fought in uglier places. Shepard wouldn’t have ranked it so high, despite the part where a banshee held her in her hand and crushed three ribs before Garrus shot it in the head. Okay, she could see why it wasn’t his favorite.

“Number four,” he called from near the bathroom. What was he doing over there? “That time she threw a thresher maw at a reaper.”

Shepard threw her hands in the air. “Oh, come on. Everyone agreed that was the coolest shit they had ever seen. And if we could make a gun that shot thresher maws, you know you’d be the first person to pull the trigger.”

He paused to consider that. It could work.

Garrus shook his head, returning toward the sofa. “Number three. That time she willingly plugged herself into the Geth consensus.”

He placed a beer in front of her and sat down next to her. She cracked it open. She had a feeling she knew what was coming next.

“Number two. The Leviathan incident.”

She winced.

“Which brings us to number one, today, when you got out of our transport to face down a Reaper on foot. What the fuck, Shepard.”

She took a long draft of her beer. She killed a Reaper today and liberated a planet. The crew was celebrating on deck three. Some boyfriends would have called that good enough.

Some boyfriends wouldn’t have been strapped into their transport, screaming at her as she jumped out the back. There was a reason she hadn’t looked at him before jumping. He would have looked at her like he did on Despoina, when she fell out of that atlas with a face full of blood.

“I would have put ‘locked down on earth for six months with no communication’ on that list somewhere,” she grumbled.

“At least I knew where you were. Don’t even get me started on that time that you died.”

“We weren’t together back then. Doesn’t count.”

“Let me just scratch out the plague ward, then.”

He tossed the datapad on her coffee table while she took another sip of her beer.

“You hit the ground pretty hard in Rannoch.”

“That wasn’t ground,” she groused, “That was concrete.”

“How much pain are you in?”

“Less now that you’re here.”

“Nadia—”

“We got the bad guy, Garrus. What’s a broken bone here and there? They’ll heal, or I’ll get new ones. Better ones. Made of tungsten or something. We got the bad guy.”

“There are a lot of them and only one of you.”

Shepard couldn’t say she hadn’t had that thought before. That she didn’t stay awake thinking how a stray bullet or something as pedestrian as a shuttle crash could take them all out. That her top ten worst moments included Garrus, unconscious and unmoving for an entire firefight at Hagalaz, crushed under a pillar in the Collector base, his face blown up on Omega as he choked on his own blood. And those were all before the Reapers hit the galaxy.

She took another pull of beer.

“Yeah.”

She leaned against him, his arm coming to rest around her shoulder, and she just listened to the constant semi-audible humming of his body.

“Hey,” she said, “Want to know the benefits of having a turian boyfriend?”

“Sure.”

“He can pick me up and carry me to bed like it’s nothing.”

He laughed, but just barely. It was four steps from her sofa to the bed, and it didn’t bode well she didn’t feel like making them. He picked her up. “Well, I guess I’m glad to know I’m good for something.”

“I’ll let you know if I think of anything else.”

He pressed his forehead to hers. “Shep—”

“I love you, Garrus.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “I love you, too.”

#mass effect #shepard #garrus #shakarian #shepard x garrus #my writing #okay I'm a little worried at just how much I've written recently like maybe I need more hobbies #I am very sorry for anyone who gets emails when I update

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softjakehoon · 3 years ago

Text

My Roommate Who Uses an XL Condom pt. 1

pairing: Jay/Reader

includes: slight edging, deep throat, cum in mouth, rough sex, breeding kink, roommate sex

warning: this is a written smut, if you don’t like reading stuff like this, scroll down for your sake please it’s not that complicated, thank you.

also, this was inspired by a manga called "Joushi no Asoko wa XL size" and it's the part about the xl condom thingy, which would be on the second part though. and of course, our y'n being a product reviewer. the rest are based on my imagination.

----

You've been searching for a part-time job for a couple of hours now, but most of the jobs available are full-time shifts. You're in your fourth year in college and you're pretty much occupied with all of the school works and activities that's why you resigned from your previous customer service job. You have no choice but to choose a job that will allow you to manage your own time. It's not like you wanted to do this out of boredom. You have to support yourself to afford your tuition fees and daily expenses. Your parents are both senior citizens so you had to work right after you turned 18.

"Product reviewer? No way, this sounds too good to be true."

One-week deadline per product.

Flexible work schedule.

Salary offer $1000 per review.

You didn't hesitate to submit your application. You have to get this job or you won't be able to pay rent. You don't even have anything to eat for this week. You sighed at your current situation. You went to the shower room to clean up before going to bed.

---

You woke up around 8 am, starving. You went to the kitchen to find something to eat. You were surprised to see the fridge full of actual food to eat.

"Am I dreaming? How is the fridge full of food when it was empty last night?" You grabbed a tub of marinated beef and began cooking.

"Fuck, when was the last time I ate meat? I've only been eating ramen and junk food lately. No wonder I feel like shit." You laughed at your own misery. You were cut off by the sound of the door opening. You don't remember inviting anyone over to your apartment. You don't have a roommate as well so you started to feel nervous.

"Who is it?" You shouted while chewing on the meat you wrapped with lettuce.

You turned your head around to see a man around your age wearing all black and a frown on his face.

"Who are you?" He asked you back.

"I asked you a question first. Why do you have a key to my apartment?" This time, you went to speak to him up close. You're near-sighted so you wanted to see him up close.

"I'm Jay. I moved in last night. Are you my roommate?" He kept his cold expression.

He's handsome as fuck, but cold as hell. You thought to yourself. Too bad.

"Oh, that must be why the fridge is full this morning. Fuck, sorry I cooked the beef bulgogi just now. I will pay you back once I get paid from my job." You looked down from embarrassment.

"That's alright." He didn't even bother to ask your name and went to his room. You didn't want to bug him about it since you still owe him a tub of beef so you just shrugged your shoulder and finished your breakfast.

While eating, you checked on your email for updates.

"Holy fuck." Your jaw dropped upon reading an email. It was from the company you applied to last night. You got the job, and you're starting today.

You signed the contract immediately and submitted all the needed requirements. Your first product will arrive in the afternoon so you couldn't help but be excited while washing the dishes.

After doing the dishes, you decided to do the laundry. You've been going braless in the apartment when you were still alone but you have a male roommate now so you can't do that anymore. You needed to wash them.

"Fuck, I ran out of shorts as well? What have I been doing all this time to forget doing my laundry?"

You decided to wear an oversized almost see-through white shirt and black underwear.

While you were putting your clothes in the front load washing machine, you heard him pretending to cough.

You dropped the clothes upon hearing that and looked around to see him piercing you with his eyes staring straight at your body.

"What do you think are you doing?" He said, raising his eyebrows.

"I'm doing my laundry. Are you blind?" You looked to your side, afraid of meeting his eyes.

He stood in front of you, "I'm not. In fact I'm very much pleased of what I'm seeing right now." You gulped when he touched your chin and forced you to look into his eyes.

"What are you doing?" You're starting to get nervous, or turned on. You don't know anymore. Is it because you haven't had sex for so long now? Fuck, you know you can't have sex with your roommate. You know damn well how it would end since your ex was also your roommate before.

"I'm making you look at my face. Ever since we met you've been avoiding my gaze." He smirked at you, turning you on even more.

"T-that's because you look scary, dude. Geez, get your hands off me or I will punch your face so I won't have any reason to look at it." You tried to push him away only for him to corner you on the wall with his arms locking you in.

"Don't call me that. Or I will kiss you right now." You knew he wasn't bluffing. But for some reason, you wanted to kiss him as well. So you called him that.

"Stop playing around, dude. Can't you see I'm busy doing someth-" You were cut off by his lips on yours. It stayed still for a short moment as if he was trying to see how you would react. But when he sensed you closing your eyes, he began to move his lips along with yours.

It was a sweet and passionate kiss as if he knew you all his life. It felt so good, you couldn't help but pull his hair, making the kiss deeper. His right hand holding your face along with your jaw, his left hand holding your waist, keeping you close to his body. You could feel your core starting to get wet from the heat that you're feeling, making you rub your thighs together. Taking the hint, Jay placed his knee in the middle and closed the distance between your body. You're now grinding on his thighs, desperately looking for friction and release.

"Are we just gonna kiss all day or are you going to fuck me?" You pulled away from the kiss and chased your breath.

"I thought you said you're busy." He smirked again.

"Well now I'm not." You kissed him again, this time with so much lust and desire. Jay is incredibly handsome, he's tall and has a nice body as well. Normally, you don't hang out with guys like him because you know they're always into pretty girls, but you don't want to think about it for now.

"Relax, baby. I'll get you nice and ready first." He grabbed your breasts as soon as he removed your shirt, sucking on your nipples while his right hand palming your core.

"I guess I don't even need to. You're soaking wet already. Is this all for me, babe?" He removed your last piece of clothing and slipped two fingers inside you.

"Fuck, Jay. Shut up already and put it in.” You can't help but moan as he slips his fingers in and out of you.

“Stop bossing me around, brat.” There was a sudden change in his aura, his fingers thrusting in and out of you now roughly.

“Damn it, I wanna cum on your cock, please. Fuck me already.” You begged. You’re about to reach your climax under his touch. All of a sudden, he removed his fingers making you bite your lips in frustration.

“What the hell? Why did you sto-” You were cut off when he grabbed a fistful of your hair, pushing you down on your knees. He immediately removed his belt and tied your hands with it. You stared at him with your puppy eyes while waiting for him to remove his clothes.

He pumped his cock a couple of times before squeezing your cheeks, a sign for you to open your mouth. You were taken aback by the size of his cock in your tiny mouth. You can’t even touch him to support yourself, so he was holding you by your hair and fucking your mouth as he wants.

“See, this is what your mouth is for. It’s not for you to talk back, or be a brat. This mouth is meant for my cock.” Tears pooled in your eyes as the tip of his dick hits your throat every time he would thrust. You were able to get rid of your gag reflex, thanks to your ex.

“Fuck, how are you so good at this? I fucking love your mouth. You’ve got no gag reflex? Fucking insane, ahh.” He’s growling at this point. You can tell he’s close as the veins in his dick are getting more prominent and it’s twitching inside your mouth.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” After a couple of thrusts, he came down your throat. You gladly swallowed his cum, making sure nothing goes to waste.

“Shit, brat. You better remember how I taste.” He said, untying your hands from his belt. He helped you to stand, kissing you while placing you on top of the counter.

He took no time in aligning himself into your core. He gathered your wetness using the tip of his dick and finally pushed it in. You can definitely feel the stretch but the pleasure goes beyond the pain at this point. You were moaning softly against his ear.

“Fuck, you feel so tight around me.” His thrust getting steady and rougher each time.

“You feel so good, Jay. I’m gonna cum.” You’re finally getting the release he denied you earlier.

“That’s right, cum on my cock.” You moaned in response. Your walls tightening around him even more, making him meet his nearing climax for the second time.

“Cum with me, Jay. Come inside me, please.” You were on birth control anyway. You were on an injectable contraceptive and it’s still in effect ‘til now. You will probably need to ask him if he’s fucking around later on but you really wanted to have his cum inside you. Hearing you beg for his cum was music to his ears. After easing you from your high with a couple of thrusts, he came right after. You felt his dick twitch inside you, his cum spreading heat in your walls. He pulled out seconds after, making his cum leak out of you.

Jay swore he took a mental image of it in his mind. You looked so hot, all fucked out because of him. You, on the other hand, waited for him to help you get off the counter.

Which he didn’t do. He put on his clothes and went straight to the bathroom to clean himself.

“What a jerk. Did he just leave me here after all that?” You tried not to feel too disappointed. Still, it made you feel angry. He could’ve at least helped you. “I’m never having sex with you again, asshole.” You said just enough for him to hear you in the bathroom.

Author’s note: Jay’s point of view will be on the second part. He’s a gentleman pls.

#enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen jay #enhypen jay x reader #enhypen jay scenarios

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1kook · 4 years ago

Text

BORN SINNER III

→ MASTERLIST

summary; Regardless of whether you are a liar or not, that didn’t make it okay for Jungkook to lie to you. warnings; virgin jungkook, timid jungkook, church boy jk, a LOT of religious themes/discussion, catholic guilt, fear of sinning, mentions of masturbation, heavy doubts, a little paranoia/fear of being outcasted, jk has a crush, confessions, making out, boob lover jk has his boobs touched, groping/petting, light praise, very brief/light choking, jk is horny like 75% of the time, positive character development <3 rating; m (18+) wc; 9.5k

banner; as always, by @jamaisjoons !! ty ty ty!! <3333

notes; i have to apologize for delaying this update for so long. truth is, it was difficult to write the next part bc i felt like i had trapped myself in pt2-- jk wasn't showing ANY progress & i started to really hate his character. LUCKILY, with the help of my amazing editor n wife @kigurumu *audience cheers* i was able to put him back on the right track towards redemption! (& even more painful angst in the future!) sadly, that means that this part doesn't include any explicit smut, you'll see why. still, I'm very proud of how much i was able to build his character in this part and i hope you enjoy it!!! lemme know what u think <3

in the future, i will try my best to make sure the chapters aren’t so spaced out. again, i am so so sorry about taking so long to update this series

He gets your text the following Tuesday morning.

Now, Jungkook has never been one to be overly invested in his cell phone; he uses it as much as he needs to, just checks his emails, takes some photos, and sends texts when necessary. But you had set up a particularly unique ringtone for yourself the other day, had sweetly asked for his phone as he laid against your chest. His skin had felt warm and the slightest bit sweaty, his body pressed so closely against you that he couldn’t tell where he ended and you began. “Did you have fun?” you asked, fingers combing back his hair. He had hummed, eyes fluttering shut to the faint tapping of your fingers across the keyboard. If he closes his eyes, he can still remember the soft beating of your heart beneath his ear, the leg you had hooked around his waist to pull him closer. The memory makes him shiver.

It’s a high-pitched bell sound that alerts him of your messages now, completely unlike the classic default tone he had set for everyone else.

From the other side of his room, Jungkook immediately pauses to look at it, the lit up screen glaring back at him from its idle place on his bedside table. He always leaves it there in the mornings, beside his rosary and the picture of his family, as he gets ready for work.

He knows exactly who it’s from— after all, that’s what you wanted when you stylized your ringtone —which is why his hand trembles in excitement as he unlocks his phone.

[❤️]: picnic tomorrow? 🥰

[❤️]: after my last class of course

Jungkook’s first thought is that this was a date, his first one with you since he had met you. His heartbeat hammers at the thought, at the mere suggestion that the two of you would be able to spend more time together this week outside of your usual weekend… acts. Additionally, if you’re asking him on a date, then surely it means you view Jungkook as a potential suitor, just as he does you? Do you want to maybe date Jungkook? Jungkook certainly wants to date you— in fact, if he starts gathering his courage now, he might be able to properly ask you out tomorrow.

Jungkook’s second thought is of that guilty, gross feeling that’s been gnawing at his insides for three days now, and how it was inevitably going to get worse when he saw you again.

He had lied to you, Jungkook recalls, sinking down against his mattress, shirt half buttoned, as he stares at the screen. He had lied to your face during a critical moment, had felt that seed of doubt in his chest blossom more than ever. And not only had Jungkook lied to you, but he had lied to you about his feelings toward you. How could he ever hope to hold you close, to date you, when he couldn’t even be honest with you?

The memory of your curious gaze presents itself at the forefront of his mind, the soft sound of your laughter ringing in his ears.

You had been so sweet to him despite his blunder, had cupped his face and kissed him on the lips when he dropped you off outside your apartment. “Not today,” you crooned, unbuckling yourself as Jungkook’s eyes trailed over your throat— ignoring your cross —and down your chest. “I have schoolwork to catch up on. But soon, okay?” Another sweet peck had left him trailing after your touch, your finger bopping the tip of his nose playfully. “Call me when you get home.”

And because he was so terribly, irrevocably smitten with you, Jungkook had done as you said and called you. He’d called you and then had whimpered against his sheets as you generously talked him through another sinful deed. You had softly sighed his name over the line, told him he was handsome and that you missed him. That you wanted him in your mouth—

And of course, he had felt… something afterwards.

This is where his dilemma begins: Jungkook had felt something afterwards, and he’s not sure if it had been entirely good or bad. The longer Jungkook stays around you, hangs out with you, does things with you— the more he can feel parts inside of himself change. Because after the phone call, Jungkook had felt two distinct emotions within himself, both of which were up for questioning.

First, there was that one feeling he was becoming all too familiar with, the crushing guilt that would consume him following any sexual interaction with you or himself for that matter. Why was he like this? Why did he indulge himself in such heinous pleasures when he knew, knew better than anyone, what committing such acts meant for the future of his soul? He was practically dooming himself the way he was now, but Jungkook just didn’t understand— why did something so bad feel so good?

But alongside that gnawing guilt was this tiny, weirdly pleasant satisfaction, a gratification that superseded the relief felt by an orgasm. It was this oddly serene feeling that settled over Jungkook in the moments following a climax, the soft brush of your hands through his hair, the low lilt of your voice. They made him feel like he was floating on the softest of clouds, kissed and pampered by its wispy tendrils. It made something inside of Jungkook feel different, new. Good.

(In the back of his mind, Jungkook realizes he’s always felt that way. At the height of his pleasure, at the faintest brush of your hands against his. It was a staple of your presence, one that made Jungkook feel like he was walking on air.)

From whatever angle he looked at it, it just didn’t make sense. They were contrasting emotions; while one made him feel godawful, the other one practically made him transcend. The fact they could coincide, exist all at once, had Jungkook’s brain folding in on itself as he tried to figure out why. They kept him up the last few nights, eyes blankly staring up at his ceiling following his evening prayers. Mulling over everything he’s ever learned and been told, always circling it back to your beautiful presence in his life.

He knows sex in itself is not bad— after all, that was how the beautiful process of life came to be —but years upon years of studying his religion, cultivating his faith, had all led him to the same conclusion: premarital sex was wrong. And for the past few weeks, well. That’s all Jungkook had been doing with you.

It seems like every time you meet, you’re dead set on pleasuring him, turning Jungkook into a shivering, teary-eyed mess while you grinned from above. That confused him too— as far as Jungkook knew, the whole point of sex was to chase after your own pleasure, something you admittedly did not do. It was always Jungkook’s pleasure, Jungkook’s enjoyment that you wanted, covering him in languid kisses and long caresses until he was inevitably shooting his hot cum all over your lap and into your hands.

You had told him it was okay, that he should never feel bad for enjoying himself. But, to return back to his original dilemma, he doesn’t quite know if he can trust your word.

You’re a liar, that much Jungkook can look past his rose-tinted glasses to admit. While you may not have lied to him (or at least, Jungkook wants to believe you haven’t), the fact still stands that you are quite willing to deceive others in order to get what you want. He already knows you aren’t the biggest believer of the Church yourself, that you frequently brush off your religious duties in order to fulfill your own desires— the aforementioned sexual cravings probably the biggest one —so, quite frankly, Jungkook is untrusting of the rest of your practices. Were you lying to him, telling him all was well, just for your own benefit? Just because you wanted to drag him along on your lustful adventures? He wasn’t sure, and as much as he wanted to trust you wouldn’t, there’s a shred of doubt that plagues him.

But still.

Regardless of whether you are a liar or not, that didn’t make it okay for Jungkook to lie to you.

He taps his phone against his chin, brain a frenzied mess.

If Jungkook really wanted to pursue this relationship with you, he needed to be honest with himself and with you. Did it bother him that you were so flippant with the Church, the one he himself feels so devoted to? Yes and no. Jungkook has never been one to impress his beliefs on others, and truthfully, he would not be the slightest bit bothered if you don’t believe in the same things he does. Would there be some awkwardness in your relationship? Certainly, but at least Jungkook would know the real you from the very beginning.

But to him, posing as an avid follower when you really aren’t rubs part of him the wrong way. He’s slightly put off by that aspect of you, and justifiably felt that anyone would feel such a way if someone were to use something they love as mere leverage for their own personal gain. And to make matters worse, now that he’s been made aware, it weighs down heavily on his conscience.

Part of Jungkook, as selfish as it may be, wishes you had never revealed your secrets to him. He may have been left in the dark a total fool, but at the very least he would have been a happy fool. Would he still feel guilt about all the sexual deeds he’s partaken in with you? Sure, but at least he would only have himself to blame. The way things are now, he’s unsure who really needs to be condemned.

Realistically, it is Jungkook’s fault. He knows how you are and even more, he knows you would never proposition him for any such sexual deed if he told you no, if he simply denied you. But he doesn’t tell you no, and that’s the problem: Jungkook really likes you as you are now, questionable behavior be damned. He likes you when you make him cry and when you pinch his cheeks and when you snake your hand down his pants.

He still thinks you’re amazing, gets this fluttery feeling when you look at him with that sparkling gaze of yours. Your laughter makes him smile, even if you’re not laughing at something he said, because the sound is just so comforting, warm and soothing, makes his entire body relax when you chuckle. You have this gentle touch, these delicate hands that carefully comb his hair back for him in the car sometimes, tracing the side of his face softly. Your smile makes him dizzy, makes him want to cup your face in his hands and kiss you breathless. And, of course, he can’t complain about your… other talents when he’s only been on the beneficial receiving end of said talents. That aforementioned satisfaction, as small as it may be and as difficult as it was to admit to, was something Jungkook has begun to look forward to on the occasions that you meet.

But his inability to overlook his own beliefs and your confusing nature brings about a great strife within Jungkook. It’s the reason he hesitates outside the church after dropping you off, his car running as he glares at his steering wheel. Everything in him says to go inside and confess to his sins, relieve himself of this overwhelming sense of guilt and shame to the closest person to his Lord.

But he’s scared.

Scared that, despite the oath of confidentiality, word will get out. His fellow brothers in faith will hear about what he’s done and call him out for his lecherousness. But even worse, he’s scared of what will happen to you. Would Jungkook’s life be over if he were thrown out of his beloved church? As dramatic as he may be, no. But he recognized that there were different standards to which men were held in this society, that an act of desire by him would not ruin his name the same way it would you.

And Jungkook didn’t want that. He wanted to keep you safe. Wanted you to be happy and smiling, regardless of how conflicted it made him, because he likes you. He likes you so much, despite the fact he has yet to uncover the true extent of your character.

But the cloud of mystery is partially what intrigues him, has him pondering over your very existence instead of getting ready for work as he is now. He’s terribly enamored, thinks about you and prays for you every night. So maybe Jungkook is still the fool, because he still daydreams about you when he knows he shouldn’t.

His phone buzzes in his hand—

[❤️]: i miss you bunny ☹️

—and his decision is made.

Tuesday passes by in a blur and before he knows it, it’s Wednesday afternoon and you’re texting him the location of one of the parks in the city. You had told him not to worry about the food because you would bring it. Jungkook’s only job was bringing the picnic blanket, a huge checkered thing he had spent all morning rifling through three stores for. He wants to impress you, desperately so, that he’s even wearing a nicer outfit today, darker tones unlike his normal warm palette because he had heard a woman at his job say men look cooler in dark colors.

Suffice to say, he sticks out like a sore thumb at the park, the stark black of his jeans contrasting with the vibrant green of the neatly cut grass. Jungkook has half the mind to feel self-conscious about it, but then you’re calling his name from a couple meters away and his breath leaves his lungs.

“Hi,” you greet, the handle of your wicker basket held tightly between two hands; Jungkook rushes to relieve you of the weight. “Did you wait long?” you ask, rewarding his gentlemanly behavior with a chaste kiss against the corner of his mouth that kick-starts his heart back into action and has his face burning up.

In all honesty, you have never dressed very modestly— not that you had to, nor that there was anything remotely wrong with that. Jungkook has spent many a mass service fighting the urge to glance down the front of your dresses and tops, ignoring the cleavage you liked to show off now and then. But apparently, what Jungkook had seen up until now was your version of dressing modestly. The dress you show up with today, an off day where there are no church ladies to impress and no unspoken dress codes to follow, makes his brain short circuit. The thin, thin, straps that hold it up giving him an all access view to the broad expanse of your shoulders and chest and collarbones and boobs—

“No!” Jungkook rushes to reassure you, fighting down the blush that threatens to travel further down his neck when you carefully straighten out the collar of his shirt for him. “I- I, um, just got here.”

You beam at the news. “I bought cheesecake,” you tell him, looping your arm through his as you tug him along. “I hope it hasn’t melted yet!”

By the time the two of you settle at a suitable spot near the lake, the cheesecake hasn’t melted. It’s still cold and solid, tastes like heaven on Jungkook’s tongue, and you laugh when his eyes light up. You look gorgeous like this, nestled against the checkered picnic blanket with a glass bottle of sparkling water in your hand, sandals just beside the edge of the blanket. There’s the faint chime of a bicycle bell somewhere to his left and the chatter of birds as they flock over the pond. Wonderful sights that would normally take his breath away and make him marvel at their beauty, but when you smile at him so gingerly like that, all Jungkook can think about is you.

He watches you slip a strawberry past your lips. “Tell me about yourself,” you hum, seemingly out of the blue, wiping the corner of your mouth with one careful finger. “Other than, like, church stuff,” you tease.

As you lean forward for another one, Jungkook’s brain stutters for a moment, eyes focused on the curves of your boobs as they naturally follow the movements of your upper body until he’s dizzy. “Huh?” he says, and you snort. “Oh— me, right, yes um—“

“Your favorite color?” you suggest, tugging the skirt of your dress tighter around your legs. It’s not cold, but there’s a slight breeze that keeps rolling over the two of you, pushing your floral scent over Jungkook and fluttering through his hair. “Right now, all I know is that you like cheesecake because you ate three slices at the bazaar the other week,” you chuckle.

It’s such a basic question, the bare minimum of knowing a person. But when you look at Jungkook like that, blinking those long lashes at him, it makes him forget his answer. “Um… Red,” he murmurs, watching you tug off the stem of the strawberry in your hands. “And white.”

You nod, and then you’re stretching a hand outward to offer him the aforementioned strawberry. When he doesn’t open his mouth right away, you silently demonstrate first, until Jungkook is slowly parting his lips and accepting your strawberry. The flavor bursts on his tongue, sweet and sticky, coating the very tips of your fingers when you don’t pull away fast enough. Jungkook averts his gaze when you pop them between your own lips and suck them clean.

“Red and white,” you repeat, unaware of the lustful images that flicker through Jungkook’s mind, the way his eyes unconsciously drop to the front of your dress, at the crevice between your breasts that he remembers oh so well, the tight suction around his cock as you— “They make pink, which is my favorite color.” He desperately clears his mind of the memories that flash before his eyes.

It’s a pretty color, fit for a pretty girl. Jungkook keeps the thought to himself as he watches you sift through the contents of your basket. It’s the perfect compliment to give you, he knows it’d make you happy, but his valor disappears when you throw him a soft grin and he’s transported back to a more recent memory, the memory in the car instead.

A bad influence, he had called you, had watched your eyes well up with an emotion he had never seen on you before. Sadness? Disappointment? Disgust? He wasn’t sure, all Jungkook could really remember was the acidity on your tongue when you had repeated the words back to him, the ghost of your touch when you had abruptly pulled away from him, shut him out. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen you so closed off before, not even when he had first met you and you were parading around with that staged shyness.

And even when Jungkook had corrected himself afterwards (read: lied to you to cover his tracks), the emotion had lingered. Even when you had playfully brushed him off, he had caught your reflection in the window beside you as he drove to your place. The sullen look on your normally happy face, lips down-turned, eyes lowered. A look he had put there.

And now he’s watching you carefully rip apart bread to throw at the birds with a tender smile. A cloud moves and suddenly the sun is beating down on your little picnic again, casting a beautiful glow across your skin that renders him breathless for the shortest moment, trapped by the sheer beauty you exude. You’re absolutely ethereal, and yet he had questioned you. Your morals, your character, everything.

“__?” he says before he can stop himself.

You hum, “yes, bunny?” before pausing your little feeding task to glance back over at him. When you look at Jungkook like this, meet his gaze straight on, he doesn’t see an ounce of ingenuity in your eyes. It might be Jungkook’s lovesick heart speaking, but he can’t imagine you ever lying to him. He looks away first, frowning at the various fruits sprawled between the two of you.

You care about him, that much Jungkook wants to believe. And his beliefs are confirmed, when your voice drops an octave lower, becomes softer, as you murmur, “is everything alright?” The fruits are carefully set aside, breaking the wall between the two of you until you can shuffle forward, your knees bumping against his. Hands reach for his, thumbs rubbing soothing circles against his skin.

Before you can repeat your inquiry a second time, Jungkook finds himself asking, “do you like me?”

Jungkook’s sudden inquiry makes your cheeks heat up just the slightest, your startled inhale barely contained.

It’s like a scene straight out of a teenage romcom— a confession in a park, your hearts bared for each other. But it’s a little awkward, you have to admit, unintentionally giving Jungkook’s soft hand a nervous squeeze as his question rolls over in your mind.

Duh, you want to say. But there’s something about the look in Jungkook’s eye— the eyes he very purposefully turns towards your hands, the hair he had let loose today providing him ample protection from your gaze —that has you pausing, carefully considering your next words.

You had hoped by now that it was obvious, that Jungkook understood how much he meant to you, and didn’t require some dorky confession in the park. Partially because, well. This wasn’t your usual role. Usually, it was the guy confessing to you, raving about all your redeeming qualities in an effort to win you over. But with Jungkook, all you know about relationships is flipped upside down, forcing you to play a position you’ve never played before.

Jungkook wasn’t like you; he was soft and sentimental, practically wore his heart on his sleeve for the whole world to see. And it was a massive heart, filled with so much love and adoration for the world around him, that you felt bad when he wore such sullen expressions on his face.

Expressions like the one he has now, lips pressed together tightly as he misreads your silence. He has honest eyes, a dark toffee color that sends tingles down your spine when he looks your way. They glimmer with a sort of innocence for the world, a thin sparkle that makes him look like a prince sometimes. He was devastatingly handsome, and now he was upset. “Um— it’s okay,” he stammers, trying to move the conversation along. But his eyes flicker around nervously, anxiously. Like your silence has left a burn mark on him, painful and delicate to the touch.

His comment isn’t completely unexpected. How very on-brand for big-hearted Jungkook to try to save you from an uncomfortable interaction, even if it was caused by him. “Um…” he murmurs, “it’s okay. If you don’t, uh. Like me?”

It sounds flimsy, even to you.

“No, no,” you rush to correct, your ability to speak slowly coming back to you only after the fact. “I do,” you admit, nerves on edge at this rather foreign situation. “I… like you a lot, Jungkook.”

You shouldn’t be surprised by his reaction. Jungkook blinks slowly, like his brain is still processing the information, and then, ever so artfully, goes up in metaphorical flames. “O- Oh,” he stutters, reaching a free hand up to press his knuckles against his face. The rosy hue that had first blossomed over his cheeks has now started crawling down his neck now, up his ears. It’s terribly endearing. “I— um. I didn’t know,” Jungkook rambles, and it’s so cute, so sweet, how a simple confession from you renders him this flustered.

His face emanates a warmth tangible even on your own skin, lips cutely quirking to the side as he fights off a bashful smile and the raging blush your words bring about. It certainly is a sight to see. His hair tickles his eyebrow, swept out of its usually neat style, but it makes him look all the more gorgeous. “Cute,” you chuckle, feeling the slightest bit shy at such a warm response from Jungkook. You sit back, giving him the space he needs, and turn your attention up at the big blue sky instead. “Really? I thought it was obvious,” you hum.

Part of you actually feels really awkward; as you said before, everything is so brand new with him. With Jungkook, he flips everything around for you, makes you actually admit to your emotions as opposed to simply going along with his. It’s a nice change of pace, as difficult as it may be, and the results are rather… cute as well. (He bites down a smile, but the action makes his normally soft cheeks look more pronounced than usual.)

“Because, I, um. Me too,” he says, voice wavering. He clears his throat and tries to meet your gaze under his fringe, but doesn’t last more than a second before he’s pointedly glancing at the picnic blanket beneath the two of you. “I’m— I like you too,” he admits, ears tinted a bright red. You figured as much but it was always nice to hear, especially from someone like Jungkook. “A lot.”

“Thanks,” you smile, placing a hand on his thigh.

His lips pull into a shy smile, aimed at your knees because he can never look you in the eye when you shower him in praise and other gooey, mushy feelings. It’s the same in the car or against your front door— he always manages to give your hand a tight squeeze, maybe even a kiss if he’s feeling brave. But the second you try to tell him you’ve had fun or that you’ll miss him, it’s like all his courage fades away, leaving him a blushing, smiley mess.

He was cute like that. Despite being so kind and caring, it was like Jungkook’s entire being stopped functioning when those types of gestures were aimed at him. So you relished those moments, looked forward to them with a fluttery feeling in your heart that couldn’t be tamed.

Today, he throws you for a loop. Just as that proud, giddy smile appears, cheeks and ears a pretty pink, it fades away. The excitement from your mutual confessions seems to remind Jungkook of something else, something less warm, that has him quietly mumbling, “I’m sorry.”

It’s confusing, to say the least. Just a moment prior, he had been pursing his lips in a silly attempt to hold back a smile. Now he’s staring at the ground with a rather pensive look, his apology sitting heavy in his throat. “What for?” you tentatively ask after one long beat. It had been so sudden. In your mind, there isn’t a single reason for Jungkook to be apologizing to you, especially so out of the blue. There is, however, an inkling of fear brought upon by what can only be classified as insecurity; you had just confessed your feelings for each other, why was he sorry about that?

Jungkook exhales, a quiet sound that is nearly lost among the bustling noises of the park. If you hadn’t been sitting so close, maybe you wouldn’t have heard it at all. “I just,” he huffs, pointedly glaring at some random spot of grass beside you. His features look sharper than ever now, jawline defined, brows narrowed together. It’s a rather misplaced realization, but Jungkook looks absolutely gorgeous with distress painting his face. “I was… being selfish before.”

In the few weeks you’ve known him, you’ve come to realize Jungkook was many things. First and foremost, he’s an absolute gentleman. Raised on manners and compassion, looking after others everywhere he went. He was caring and sweet, loved this world and the people in it so much. Soft-spoken but straightforward. He was dreamy, disgustingly so.

But selfish? It definitely sounds like something Jeon Jungkook is not.

Before you can interrogate him even further, it seems like Jungkook is dead set on getting through this alone. “I- I’m sorry,” he repeats, eyes downcast. Noticing his wavering confidence, you resign yourself to listening, hand giving him a reassuring squeeze. Finally, after a short moment, Jungkook murmurs, “...in the car.” You tilt your head to the side curiously, waiting for him to go on. “I said, um. Something rude.”

It takes a moment for the memory to load, and when it finally clicks into place and begins rolling, you find yourself muttering a faint, “ah.”

If it’s what you think it is, he’s talking about last weekend outside of the church. That terribly awkward encounter that had left a sour taste in your mouth afterwards. A bad influence, you recall him saying, the memory of his voice looped in your mind the entire drive to your place.

In all honesty, it had stung a little. While you were aware that Jungkook had an ongoing mental battle, you hadn’t realized your role was that big in it. It’s the reason you had sent him home that day, made up a lie about schoolwork just to give him some space. It’s nothing new, everyone’s had someone think badly of them before; gossipy classmates, rivals, maybe even random strangers on the street. But it felt different when it was coming from someone as sweet as Jungkook, so polite and righteous, who wouldn’t even hurt a fly. Like he was stating a fact, not an opinion.

It was a slip-up on Jungkook’s end, that much you could tell. Because he had been frantic to correct himself afterwards, had looked at you with these fearful eyes, like one wrong move and you’d slip from between his hands. Luckily, you weren’t that sensitive— definitely not as sensitive as him, at least —and such a comment had been practically meaningless moments later.

Still, in those few moments where it was meaningful (read: the short period it took for Jungkook to get home and call you, the words looping around your brain until the harsh ring of your cell phone finally interrupted), it had left you wondering. Have you been pushing him too far, asking for too much? The way you saw it, you always gave Jungkook room to object to any of your advances. You know he’s trapped in his thoughts more often than not, but you pay attention to him, you really do. You make sure to take his reactions into account, try to offer solutions where possible. But, for the briefest moment, all of those efforts had felt fruitless that day in the car.

What you say next is not a complete lie; sure, Jungkook’s comment had hurt for a bit, but here he was now apologizing for it. That was a good sign… right? “It’s okay,” you brush off, patting his cheek softly, hoping with every fiber in your being that it really was okay.

Your voice is gentle, soothing his doubts. Just moments prior, Jungkook had felt like he was asking for too much, especially when your feelings toward him were up in the air. But your earnest confession soothed the ache in his heart. It’s all he’s wanted these past few months, to belong in your heart like you do his.

But the guilt from before, the tumultuous feelings he’s been harboring towards you since the weekend, dampens his excitement. From your confession alone, it doesn’t seem like you questioned Jungkook. You weren’t put off by who he was, what he loved. So why couldn’t Jungkook be like you, think like you?

“I’m still sorry,” he says again, feeling like a broken record when he catches this sympathetic smile on your face. The scraps of eloquence he had gathered while originally apologizing seem to fade away, leave him a stuttering mess when he tries again. “That was— I shouldn’t have said—“

“Hey,” you cut off, placing a hand against his cheek. It stops his fidgeting, forces him to meet your gaze head on. There’s a smile on your face but something inside of Jungkook says it doesn’t feel real. “I like you, Jungkook.”

And it’s true and genuine, your words so honest it pains him to think he had ever thought otherwise. And you’re still smiling, even after being hit with the implication that Jungkook questioned your character and maybe that’s what hurts the most. That you still try to put on an easygoing expression for him after he’s said something hurtful. It’s the car all over again, that blank look in your eyes when he had spoken carelessly.

Before he can apologize for the umpteenth time, you’re shaking your head softly, smiling anew. But this time, he can’t tell if it’s real or not. “I brought orange juice,” you say, expertly moving the conversation along. And just as Jungkook has been thinking for weeks now, it’s like you know him so well. You know when things make him anxious or uncomfortable, know just how to help him out.

There’s a feeling of guilt that blossoms in his chest, but this time it’s different.

It’s not the usual sticky gross feeling of before, the one that has him staying up at night repenting for all his wrongdoings. It’s a personal kind of guilt that comes along with the frank realization that, while you have been learning and adapting to being around Jungkook, he has not been doing the same for you.

Though you may be a little playful at times, you don’t tease him for who he is, don’t stomp all over his beliefs as much as he deluded himself into thinking you do. (That whole, faux-believer thing was a different circumstance.) Like with the cross in his house the other day. As much as Jungkook wanted to believe what you had done was evil, he had, quite honestly, enjoyed himself afterwards. There wasn’t that heavy discomfort sitting on his chest anymore, that sense of shame lingering as you’d kissed his body and let him caress yours too, in the safety of your eyes only. It was enjoyable and fun, had felt exhilarating to be so intimate with you.

And instead of being thankful for your mindful efforts, he had questioned your sincerity.

The picnic goes by in a flash. Jungkook is sad he can’t enjoy it to the fullest, his brain filled with clamorous thoughts that circled around to torture him every few minutes. Still, the entire date feels like a dream, vibrant and beautiful, leaving him in a daze. He doesn’t want to wake up.

By the time you suggest wrapping up, the sun is setting over the horizon, the windows and lights of the buildings around you slowly flickering to life like a sea of tiny stars. He feels weak in the knees as he helps you pack everything back in your basket. “All set,” you smile, walking beside him, knuckles brushing against his until you fulfill Jungkook’s wordless wish and slip your hand into his.

Jungkook agrees, hoping his hand isn’t sweaty and that you mean what you say. “I- I liked the food,” he remembers to mention, the fact that you had so carefully and lovingly prepared all this not entirely lost on him. His compliment, as simple as it may be, has you beaming at him as you exit through the park’s front gates. His car is parked along the street, the sleek vehicle coming into view as you round the street corner, hands still fastened. “Um,” he mumbles, pausing beside it. You turn to face him, eyes clear and content.

All good things come to an end, he supposes, reluctantly letting go of your hand when you tug. “I’ll see you soon, okay?” you say, stepping up close, chest pressed against his. His breath hitched in his throat, eyes going wide when you nuzzle against his neck. Your hands slip around his waist. They wrap around him perfectly, make Jungkook feel like he was made for you.

By the time he’s springing into action, jerkily raising his free hand up to your back, you’re stepping away. “Call me when you get home,” you wink, sending shivers down his spine when he remembers what happened the last time you said that.

But Jungkook doesn’t think he can wait that long.

You’re slipping further and further away, fingertips just barely brushing against his forearm, when Jungkook jolts into action. “How are you, um—“ he stammers, feels too big for his shoes when you tilt your head curiously. And then, “d- do you need a ride?” he mumbles, cheeks warm.

It’s a feeble attempt at asking what he really wants. Offering you a ride home, while not a bad idea considering it was late and you had taken the bus here, is nowhere near what Jungkook really wants. What he wants is standing before him, thin spaghetti strap slipping down their shoulder, eyes sensually half-lidded and you know this too— because, again, you know Jungkook so well, know what he wants even if he can’t say it —as you step into his bubble again, peer up at him with your arms held behind your back.

“A ride home?” you ask, blinking your long lashes in a way that robs him of his breath. And he can see that switch flick on inside of you, watches that pure and innocent gleam in your eyes slowly become replaced with something mischievous. Jungkook nods dumbly. “I’d love that.”

Jungkook blinks. “Great,” he chokes out, neatly dropping the wicker basket in his hands. In a way, it brings him back down to reality, lets him snap away from your hypnotizing gaze as he reaches for the keys in his pocket. “Let me— I just have to— yeah,” he stammers, clicking the button on his car keys one too many times, has it perkily beeping. Your lips press together into an amused smile, the last thing Jungkook sees before ripping himself away from you and yanking the back door open.

He nearly throws the basket in like a madman, glassware be damned. It’s his last shred of rationality that tells him not to, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on edge as he steps up to the edge of the sidewalk and carefully places it on the floor behind the passenger’s seat.

When Jungkook rises back up, there is a hand that brushes against his forearm, a gentle touch that has him throwing a curious glance your way. He’s not expecting to be so entranced by the dreamy look in your eyes, feet glued to the ground as you trail your hand down, catching his wrist between your fingers. You’re standing so close, making Jungkook feel like he’s trapped between you and his own car. His entire body is on edge when you lean in, placing a soft kiss against the very corner of his mouth. It leaves a tingling sensation, and accompanied with the growing warmth beneath his skin, feels like he’s been burned. “I had fun,” you murmur, voice low. It sends a shock of electricity down his spine, a wave of exhilaration that has him fully turning to face you as you eventually step away, that same playful grin on your features again.

A surge of confidence and greed overcomes him, has him stepping forward into your space despite the nervousness that builds within him. There’s a hint of surprise in your eyes that you quickly mask, placating his bumbling nerves with a delicate hand placed over his heart. He can’t breathe when you lean in, softly humming, “kiss me?”

Jungkook’s lower lip wobbles. “O- Okay,” he concedes, voice but an airy whisper that is soon swallowed up. You taste like fruit and orange juice, remnants of your picnic clinging to your lips as you slowly consume Jungkook’s entire attention with this soft brush alone. It’s a rather short affair, one that ends all too soon when you pull away with a soft sigh against his lips.

Your smile is so pretty when you angle it at him, has him taking one jerky step backwards. His back hits the car, feels trapped. But he isn’t scared, doesn’t find himself anxiously awaiting your next move. “Good boy,” you purr, reaching one graceful hand forward, playfully tugging at his tie, wrapping it around your knuckles as you use it as leverage to pull him close again.

You’re just so pretty, Jungkook has always thought so. From the moment he first met you until now, there is something about you—a glint in your eyes, a quirk to your lips—that has had him under your spell for weeks now.

Had Jungkook seriously despised you and your ethics, perhaps this feeling would have gone away. But the fact of the matter is that you make Jungkook’s heart hammer dangerously in his chest, a shot of adrenaline through his veins when you look at him with those low-lidded eyes, touch him with those experienced hands. He wants you so bad, even after all he’s learned, all he’s seen. He wants you over him and under him, pressed against him from head to toe. He wants and he wants, and he knows it’s bad to want so much, to be so greedy. But with you around, Jungkook finds himself giving into that greed, clutching at it like a lifeline. “We can, um—,” he stammers, placing one uncertain hand against the top of the door frame beside him. You raise your brows, egging him on yet patiently waiting all at once.

Your gaze is so strong, and it’s in moments like these that Jungkook feels that feeling crawl up his throat. A serpentine gaze, a sticky sweet tongue. Everything he’s ever known says it’s wrong, but his heart and your confession says otherwise. He looks away, throws a bashful glance at the plush leather seats behind him. “In… inside?”

And the offer has you positively beaming before him, that same flirtatious shimmer in your irises doubling at the words that roll off his tongue. “Oh my,” you swoon playfully, stepping back to, Jungkook assumes, allow him to get in.

He plops down, feels like he would break out in a sweat if the evening temperature wasn’t so cool. The car’s interior blends into the shadows, his clothing practically indiscernible against the dark shade of the seats. A stark contrast to the pretty floral dress that suddenly spills itself over his lap when you climb in, the door tugged shut beside the two of you. All is silent, your thighs over his, hands on his shoulders. “Hi, bunny,” you murmur, lips pulled into a smirk, provocative yet playful, like you know something that Jungkook doesn’t.

Jungkook’s throat feels dry but he still manages to gulp. He’s drowning in your perfume and your body lotion, in the faint smell of the outdoors clinging to your clothes and your hair, the absolutely heavenly scent of just you in your entirety. “Hi,” he whispers back, voice lost beneath the thundering of his heartbeat in his ears. And his quiet greeting is rewarded with two soft hands that crawl up his neck, cupping his face in their palms.

“You were so sweet today,” you purr, nose nudging against his when you finally lean in, pressing your breasts against Jungkook. A tiny gasp catches in his throat, his hands instinctively going to your waist. “Can I kiss you again?”

Jungkook has never wanted anything more. “Please,” he exhales, feeling like he’ll explode if you don’t kiss him soon. You take his request in stride, jut your face forward just the slightest bit until your mouth is pressed firmly against his, the movement of your lips a practiced rhythm that he just can’t seem to master. He still tries his best, puckers his lips when he feels it’s right, tilts his head when you urge him with a soft nudge. He tries his best and hopes it’s enough.

By now, Jungkook has come to understand that there is a pattern to your kisses. You always start off slow and relaxed, mouth languidly moving against his as you lure him across a tightrope of anticipation. They gradually become more intense, pulling out whimpers and sighs from Jungkook that he had never known were possible. It’s a carefully crafted art form, the tongue that slides out from between your pillowy lips, dips into his own mouth with a giggly pant. “Good boy,” you hum in between, hands burying themselves in the hair at the nape of his neck. “Always so good.”

Jungkook shudders when you eventually part, can’t catch his breath fast enough before you’re reaching for the buttons on the front of his shirt, easily undoing the casual tie too. “Relax,” you tell him, bypassing his lips for the warm expanse of skin just below. You kiss over his chin, down his neck, as your hands crawl beneath his shirt and around his naked waist.

He’s ticklish, and when you brush against his ribs, he unwillingly releases a sharp huff of laughter. It’s followed by a wide-eyed look of embarrassment, cheeks a warm hue when you lean back in surprise at this new bit of information. “I— sorry,” he blurts out, because he doesn’t know proper make-out etiquette, doesn’t know anything really, except what you’ve shown him.

But the sound makes you snort, looking at him with this gaze that drips with honey. “So cute,” you tell him, placing a chaste kiss against his lips, before disappearing back down to lavish his throat with filthier kisses. And with you laving your tongue across his skin, biting at every inch available, Jungkook is left to fuzzily stare over the crystal clear windshield. He’s struck with the faint realization that if someone were to look hard enough, they would see him through the tinted glass as he fell apart into the hands of a pretty girl.

The soft smack of your lips against his skin is sensual, makes every hair on his body stand stiff. Your lips trail down the column of his neck, placing a bruising kiss at the juncture where it meets the rest of his body. “Oh,” he sighs, eyelids fluttering when a hand squeezes at his chest, thumb against his nipple.

Another muffled giggle pressed against the base of his neck, and when Jungkook focuses his eyes again, he catches his own gaze in the rearview mirror.

The sight of him is… weird to say the least.

Even in the dark, his lips look thoroughly debauched, puffier and redder than usual, slick with saliva that isn’t entirely his. He doesn’t tell himself to, but his mirrored counterpart peeks his tongue out, runs it along his top lip sinfully. Startled by his own appearance, Jungkook jolts in place, feeling you shift in his lap with a soft little whine. “Bunny,” you frown, and Jungkook watches your side profile in the tiny mirror as you sit back up, press your lips against his ear. “Sit still for me,” you tell him, hand slithering up his chest, around his throat. Over his Adam’s apple, squeezing just the slightest. It’s not tight, but it knocks the air out of his lungs when he sees the action mirrored back at him on the reflective surface.

That familiar guilt sticks in his throat, evident when your hand slips away and he swallows harshly, the protrusion just beneath his skin bobbing up and down.

In the back of Jungkook’s mind, he can recall the religious story that surrounded this bodily feature; a sin and the consequence. A garden and a fruit, a beautiful woman by his side.

Your hand creeps down between your bodies, palming over his quickly fattening cock, and Jungkook swears he sees stars, a strained whimper escaping from his lips that you giggle at. “Oh my,” he huffs, clutching at the skirt of your dress. You nuzzle close again, pressing a tender kiss against the side of his neck.

Your hands are so soft and sweet, brushing over his cock like you’re simply caressing him out of adoration and not because you want him to cum, staining his seats and your dress. Either way, Jungkook can’t even begin to imagine what you must be thinking; before the date and his confession, he had been afraid that you would discard him. Maybe Jungkook wasn’t what you wanted, maybe he wasn’t what you needed. You were so confident in yourself and your actions, a stark contrast to Jungkook and his constant uncertainty, his fear of doing the wrong thing plaguing him at all hours of the day.

Even now, with your hands expertly tugging his zipper down, he finds himself going back to that story. That apple in the garden, the consequences it had hailed. Never mind the fact you’re on top of him, claiming to like him, with your hands touching every inch of his skin. He keeps looping back to that Biblical verse instead, thinks about it when your fingers meanly let the elastic band of his briefs snap against his skin. “Ouch,” he flinches, voice a soft whine. He turns too quickly and too suddenly, nose bumping against yours because you’re still so close.

You smile, puckering your lips for the lightest of kisses. It’s the little things like that that make Jungkook’s entire thought process stall, distantly aware of the fact that it’s, like always, you leading the majority of your encounters once again. Even during your picnic, it had been you who had practically held his hand as you navigated through basic information, asked for his favorite color and his favorite drink. Had it not been for your own proactive tendencies, Jungkook fears he would have never known your favorite color was pink or your favorite day of the week was Thursday.

It’s a fact that makes him pause, jaw tightening as he once again realizes how little effort he was putting into knowing you. For someone who claimed to like you a lot, he rarely did the work to prove it. Even now, he’s too unsure of who he is and who you are to indulge you properly, instead watching you lead the scene as usual. Before he can stop himself, a sigh is escaping his lips.

It must convey his emotions perfectly, because it’s enough to make your wandering hands pause by his waist. “Everything okay?” you ask, always knowing what he’s feeling. And it sucks that he couldn’t say the same for himself.

“N— Yes,” he rushes to say, looking up at you with round eyes, the moonlight painting half of your face a paler color than usual, the other side shrouded in darkness. It makes your eyes look darker, makes Jungkook gulp loudly when you turn those inquisitive eyes on him.

His answer doesn’t seem to convince you, and it’s with little to no hesitation that you sit back. It puts a distance between the two of you that Jungkook can’t say he’s a fan of. “Jungkook,” you say, voice stern yet warm, one hand reaching up to brush your knuckles against his cheek. “Tell me what’s bothering you?”

It makes Jungkook nervous. He knows he thinks too much. Part of him fears that oversharing with you will drive you away, put you even farther than you are now. Maybe next time it’ll be a room’s length away, a football field’s length away. And he doesn’t want that; he wants to hold you close, he really does. But there are traditions he carries and beliefs he holds dearly that make it hard for him to do so, as much as it pains him.

The only reason he knows he’s frowning is because you press your pointer finger against the corner of his mouth. You lean in close, nose bumping against his. It sends your scent billowing over him, makes him dizzy when he becomes aware of the hand he’s got on your bare thigh, the rumpled skirt of your dress pushed away. “Talk to me, bunny,” you murmur. You don’t make a move to kiss him, a fact that Jungkook feels both grateful and disheartened by. “Please?”

And he can’t deny you, not when you ask so nicely. You have this metaphorical grip on Jungkook, a tight hold around his throat that has made him act impulsively these past few weeks, desperate to be with you, to please you. Even now, despite how much he wants to withhold his thoughts, he finds himself quietly admitting them instead. “I want to know you,” he mumbles, unable to meet your eye. You don’t push him to. “I really, um. I like you, __. A lot.” It’s a repetition of his earlier confession. And still, it makes him nervous. A thumb brushes against his cheekbone, encouraging him to meet your solemn gaze even if it means being a blushing mess afterwards. “Before we, uh, do… things.”

His words may be choppy and incoherent, but you understand him all the same. “You want to go out some more,” you clarify, removing your hand from his cheek. The phantom trail of your fingertips on his skin remains, feels colder when you lean away to allow him some more space.

Jungkook nods quickly, hoping this rush of adrenaline might help him through this. He bites down on his lower lip, carefully analyzing your expression for any signs of disbelief or disgust. But all he sees is understanding, a cool expression that makes Jungkook’s heart thunder. “I…,” he says, glancing down at where he’s still got his hand on your naked skin. Something inside of him tells him to rub his thumb across it, an action he doesn’t think through until he hears a sharp inhale, watches goosebumps rise over the skin. “I’m sorry,” he rushes out, snatching his hand away before he can do something else of a similar sort. “I- I just—“ said hand now waves around wildly beside him “—I really like you, as a, um— uh. A person. And I—“ and this is where he becomes aware of his unbuttoned shirt and the way you’ve got your pretty pussy pressed against his thigh now “—I, um. I want to know me— I mean, you —better? More? Like—“

His embarrassing babbling is cut off with a gentle kiss to his lips. No tongue, no saliva. Just soft lips against his, a delicate hand against his shoulders. When you pull away, Jungkook unconsciously trails after the touch, eyes half-lidded and in a daze when you place a palm on his chest. “I got it,” you say, lips quirking into a tiny smile. “I want to know more about you too, bunny,” you admit, reaching for the front of his shirt. He watches on with flushed cheeks as you slowly button it up for him, finishing it off with a playful tap against the underside of his chin.

You glance out of the window thoughtfully. Jungkook is suddenly reminded of how pretty you are, your skin practically glimmering under the pale moonlight. It catches on your necklace, a thin chain with a cross on the end. If he focuses his eyes behind you, his own reflection stares back once more. Jungkook’s entire body threatens to lock up tightly, but a single kiss on the cheek from you interrupts the process. “Do you wanna date?” you ask, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

Jungkook can’t agree fast enough. “I— yes,” he gasps, leaning forward too suddenly. It makes you flinch back in surprise, back pressing up against the driver’s seat behind you in surprise. You wouldn’t have fallen or anything, but Jungkook reacts like it was a serious possibility anyway, grasping at your waist and pulling you snug against him, soft thighs sandwiching his tiny waist. “Oh, God,” he frets, immediately moving to release you.

But you catch him with two arms thrown around his neck, pulling Jungkook close to you for another kiss. Deeper and… meaningful, your satiny lips carefully slotted against his. While it surprises him at first, Jungkook finds himself melting into it soon enough. This was okay, he tells himself, and for the first time in a few weeks, he finds himself believing it.

It was just kissing— intimate yet appropriate kissing —between two people who were seeing each other. Him, properly seeing you. His heart threatens to burst out of its cage for a second. It’s the first time since he’s met you that he can fully say he hadn’t felt nervous about his actions, hadn’t felt like he was committing some grave sin for chasing after your touch. It was just a kiss, simple and sweet, making both of you smile bashfully when you eventually pull away. There was no lying and no guilt, no tears and no stress.

It felt good.

#networkbangtan #bangtanhq #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #jeon jungkook fic #jjk fic #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader smut #bts fic #bts smut #mine

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 4 years ago

Text

Secret’s Out

Father of Mine – Part 1 and Part 2

Bruce was looking at his emails when Y/N arrived at the table.

She was breathing heavily and her hair was a bit messy, just further proving she had rushed to get there.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she huffed embarrassingly. “My shoot ran over and every one was moving so slowly.”

Bruce smiled. “Y/N. Relax.”

Then he stood up to greet her with a kiss on the cheek.

The two of them hadn’t seen each other in over a month. Y/N had been traveling for work constantly. And between the vigilante life and Wayne Enterprises, Bruce was running on 2 hours of sleep on the daily.

“I need a drink,” Y/N finally sighed after she got situated.

As if on cue, their waitress dropped Y/N’s favorite drink in front of her.

Y/N eyed Bruce with surprise.

He just shrugged.

Sometimes Y/N forgot how much her father noticed literally everything.

“Thank you,” she told the waitress.

“You’re overworking yourself,” Bruce said with a disapproving look.

She rolled her eyes. “Really? You’re not one to talk, Bruce.”

“You deserve a vacation. I’ll pay for it. Pick wherever you want. Bring Jason. Or some friends.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Bruce…”

It was a warning.

From the very start of their unconventional father-daughter relationship, Y/N had made it clear that she could not be bought. And Bruce spoiling her made her extremely uncomfortable. Even now, she still tried to at least split restaurant checks with him. Bruce always won those battles though.

“I’ll take a vacation when you do,” she finally countered.

That sure shut him up.

“Hey, I actually brought you something,” Y/N changed the subject as she reached for her bag.

A moment later, she lightly placed a manila folder onto the table.

Bruce’s brow furrowed as he reached for it.

As soon as he opened it, he froze.

“I had to clean out some stuff and put things into storage,” Y/N explained. “I found all my mom’s photos. I figured I could make copies of some childhood photos for you.”

Bruce’s silence made Y/N nervous.

“If you don’t want them, that’s totally fine.” She started to reach for the folder out of Bruce’s grip with awkward embarrassment. “It was stupid–”

But Bruce quickly pulled the folder closer to him and stopped her from taking the photos from him.

“Thank you,” he announced.

It made Y/N quickly sit back in her chair, caught off guard by his sincere reaction and how he’d immediately become protective of the photos.

Bruce awkwardly cleared his throat. “Thank you, Y/N.”

He repeated to make sure she understood how thankful he truly was. And Y/N suspected the throat clearing was to hide his emotions.

Now she watched as Bruce slowly went through every picture. He took in every detail with a soft smile.

These weren’t just photos. These were all of Y/N’s memories that Bruce missed, that he could never get back. And he was savoring all of them.

Then Bruce paused and was fully smiling now.

“What?” Y/N asked.

She didn’t know why all of this made her so nervous.

Bruce didn’t say anything as he lifted a photo and flipped it to show her.

It wasn’t from her childhood.

It was a black and white photo of Jason. A candid from when he had escorted her around the slums of Gotham for her most recent gallery show.

After months of thinking about it, Y/N finally had decided she wanted to frame it and hang it somewhere in her apartment.

Y/N’s jaw dropped with embarrassment and she ripped it from his hands.

“I was developing some photos at the same time as I was making the copies. Must’ve gotten mixed up in those,” Y/N explained too quickly, unable to meet Bruce’s gaze.

It made Bruce happy to know that Y/N didn’t have the same inability to love someone and let people in like he did. It was a relief that she didn’t isolate herself from it like he had. If her mother was still alive, Bruce would thank her for it. But if Y/N’s mother were alive, he would’ve never known about Y/N in the first place.

Their entire dinner was spent with Bruce looking at the old photos. He had at least two questions for each one. Some of them Y/N didn’t remember being taken. But most of them came with stories or a loving memory.

Y/N talked for most of the meal. But that’s exactly what Bruce wanted.

Furthermore, Bruce had nothing of value to update her on. Batman business had consumed his life as of lately, and he had made a promise to never involve Y/N in any of it. And Jason seemed to be on the same page when it came to his other life as Red Hood.

Both men seemed determined to keep her safe and away from it all.

Two hours later, Bruce was paying the check and helping Y/N into her coat.

“I’ll give you a ride home,” he muttered as they started walking out.

Y/N had learned by now to give up on those small battles. Jason was the same way when it came to making sure she got home safely.

As they made their way to the exit, Y/N caught a few stares from other patrons who were still eating.

“Do you ever get used to it?” She asked her father in a low voice.

“Get used to what?” He asked, genuinely unaware of what she was getting at.

“People gawking at you.”

Bruce glanced around and unintentionally glared at anyone who was staring at Y/N.

“It’s good that I’m seen in public…for obvious reason,” he hinted in a quiet voice, obviously talking about needing the cover to continue his life as a masked vigilante.

Once they were outside, Alfred was already waiting at the curb with the Rolls-Royce. He greeted Y/N with a hug and a kiss to her cheek before opening the door for her and Bruce.

When they got to Y/N’s apartment building, she said her goodbyes to Alfred. And Bruce walked Y/N all the way up to her door.

Even though Y/N insisted it was overkill and she could get up the stairs on her own just fine, Bruce had seen too many terrible things in this forsaken city. He could think of thousands of things that could happen to Y/N between the car and her front door.

Once Y/N realized that Bruce’s paranoia came from experience, she stopped trying to stop his chivalry and overprotective ways. She finally understood that Bruce had seen things that would prevent her from ever sleeping again. So if walking Y/N to her door gave him a little peace of mind, she wasn’t going to take that away from him.

Y/N turned to Bruce when they reached her door. “Thanks again for dinner.”

“Of course. I’m glad we could spend some time together. Thank you again for the photos.”

Y/N didn’t realize that Bruce was about to hang every single one around Wayne Manor.

She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and a hug. “Get home safe.”

——————

Y/N woke up wrapped strong arms, her body overheating slightly.

When she had come home from dinner last night, Jason had already left for patrol.

He hadn’t woken her up when he got back home, just proving how exhausted Y/N had been these past few weeks.

But it was the continuous buzzing vibrations of her phone that woke her up. When she brightened the screen, she saw that she had dozens of text messages and three missed called from Bruce.

“What the fuck,” Y/N whispered as she started opening them.

But they were all about the same thing.

Everyone had sent her similar articles from various gossip websites or news outlets.

BRUCE WAYNE’S NEW GIRLFRIEND IS FAMOUS PHOTOGRAPHER Y/F/N Y/L/N

BRUCE WAYNE’S FLAVOR OF THE WEEK

IS Y/F/N Y/L/N USING THE PRINCE OF GOTHAM TO FURTHER HER CAREER?

All of the headlines were joined with photos of Bruce and Y/N having dinner last night. Apparently other customers at the restaurant had snuck photos of Bruce greeting her with a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

Y/N could see how it would be misinterpreted as romantic and not familial or platonic. But it still made her sick to see the photos twisted in such a way.

Then there were paparazzi photos of them getting in a car together. Of course there were none of Bruce dropping her off and them going their separate ways. That would be just too convenient for the two of them.

Y/N’s stomach dropped with panic.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” she gasped without realizing it.

Jason immediately woke up. “What is it?”

Y/N ignored him and called Bruce.

“I’m handling it,” was how Bruce answered her call.

“Handling it? How exactly?” She challenged. “We can deny the rumors all we want. But everyone is going to keep tabs on us now, and they’re going to see us together again.”

Jason grabbed his own phone.

One of his brothers must’ve sent him a similar article because he rubbed his face in annoyance, finally understanding the situation.

Nothing like your girlfriend being rumored to have a relationship with her father, who was also your mentor and adoptive father.

“Y/N, it will blow over. It always does,” Bruce tried to calm her down.

“So what happens when I get photographed with Jason? Huh? They’re going to just say I’m cheating on both of you with each other or some fucked up shit like that.”

Bruce was silent, because they both knew she was right.

Y/N glanced at Jason, who was already waiting for her gaze.

She took in a deep breath and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Maybe we should…Maybe we should just tell the truth.”

“You’ve never wanted that, Y/N.” Bruce tried to argue.

And he was right.

Y/N was terrified of being associated with the Wayne family. People would start believing she secretly built her career off of nepotism that no one was aware of. She also didn’t want that type of attention from the media and the upperclass of Gotham.

“I don’t think we have any other choice,” Y/N finally answered.

Jason reached for thigh and gripped it, trying to offer her some sort of comfort.

“Y/N, are you sure about this?” Bruce asked slowly.

“No. Not at all. But I’d rather not have the public think I’m dating my biological father.”

“OK,” Bruce sighed. “I’ll talk to my publicist today.”

“OK.” She bit her lip before adding. “Just…tell them the whole story.”

“Y/N, if you’re worried how it will make me look, don’t.”

“But I am worried about it, Bruce. They’re going to drag you for being an absent father. And none of that is true. They’re not gonna understand.”

“I’ll call you later with an update,” he told her softly before hanging up.

Y/N tossed her phone to the foot of the bed in frustration.

Jason watched as she buried her face in her hands.

“You OK?” He asked as he rubbed her back.

“No,” she answered honestly.

“Come here.” Jason pulled her into his chest.

There was no fight from her as he cuddled her tightly.

“This is a fucking nightmare,” she groaned into his shoulder.

“I know. But maybe it’s for the best,” he tried to reason with her.

“And what happens when they catch wind that I’m dating my father’s adoptive son? Huh?”

“We’re not actually related, Y/N.”

She pulled her face back so she could glare at him. “Yeah! We know that! But you do understand that people are going to see it that way, right? Like we’re gonna look like some fucked up incestual couple to them.”

“I don’t really care,” Jason finally told her.

“You don’t care?” She scoffed.

“No,” his answer and confidence didn’t waver. “I don’t give a fuck what people say about us, Y/N. If exposing the truth means we don’t have to think twice about going to events or even just going out to dinner, then I’m all for it. I’m sick of hiding our relationship.”

Y/N blinked. She never considered that their subtle relationship bothered him in any way. She was always a strangely private person, so it felt normal to her. But clearly Jason had been wanting to be a bit more public with their relationship.

“What if this changes everything?” Y/N whispered, not meeting his eyes.

Jason smirked at that and gripped her chin, lifting it up so she would look at him. “Some paparazzi and trash tabloids aren’t going to change how I feel about you, Y/N.”

Y/N laughed lightly at that.

“Maybe we should leave Gotham for a bit,” she offered. “Bruce won’t shut up about paying for a vacation for us.”

Jason nodded. “I think that sounds like a good idea. You’ve needed a break for awhile now.”

“Well…where do you wanna go?” Y/N asked.

“Doesn’t matter to me. As long as you’re there.”

She rolled her eyes and hit Jason in the face with a pillow. “God, you really are a sap.”

Y/N appreciated Jason always being able to make her feel better and feel supported.

But even he couldn’t stop her from wondering...

What would life be like as a Wayne?

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

Father of Mine – Bonus Content

#father of mine bonus content #father of mine #bruce wayne x daughter #bruce wayne x daughter!reader #father!bruce wayne #dad!bruce wayne #dad!batman #batdad #jason todd x reader #jason todd reader insert #red hood reader insert #red hood x reader #batfam #batboys

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arinbelle · 3 years ago

Text

Suits (Nessian AU)

Notes: Hello! This was an unexpected update. I didn’t think I’d ever finish this chapter, but lo and behold, it’s here! I don’t know much about law school and lawyer life, but I’ve been lovingly helped by @moodymelanist and @kingandfireheart and am very grateful for all of it. I’m also looking up a bunch of things and trying to stay as completely accurate as possible, but if you are a law student or lawyer and I mess something up, I’m sorry in advance. Anyways, I hope you all like this chpater. It’s not much “plot” mostly angst and vibes and setting up the background if nothing else. Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist- I’m pretty sure I added everyone who asked to be added, but this was surprisingly a large taglist so if I missed anyone, please don’t hesitate to let me know. As always, I hope you enjoy and I’d love to hear about what you’re thinking when you’re done!

Suits Masterlist

~*~

Chapter 2

5…4…3…2…1

Thank the Gods.

Nesta shot out of her seat as soon as the clock struck 9:30 AM. She was done. It was done. She could get the hell out of here, away from this cursed day and cursed building and cursed life and just-

“Alright everyone,” Cassian announced, glancing to the clock on his left. “That’s it for our first day. If you check your online modules, you’ll see the chapters that I’ve assigned for your reading. Be prepared for discussion next class. I’m not assigning write-ups because it’s your first week but you better not slack off on reading because of it.”

People began filing out and Nesta, bag already ready to go, also began rising, hoping to shuffle out with the tide and avoid any interaction.

“Nesta Archeron?” Cassian called out.

Nesta froze in her path while the rest of the class began leaving. She looked at him but unlike her, Cassian seemed the picture of calm, collected and utterly aloof to the disaster happening in her head. In fact, he’d been completely normal throughout the entire class period. Nesta had almost hurled up her guts when they were ten minutes in.

“Nesta? Archeron?” Cassian looked around again until finally he saw where she’d stopped. A few feet from his desk, body stll angled towards the door as more students made their way out.

“Come here please," Cassian said to her.

"Come. One more time, baby. Come for me. I know you want to," Cassian had whispered to her as he'd pushed her through climax after climax after climax, and she'd become a boneless mess on his bed.

Nesta shook her head of the image of him dipping his head over and over between her legs. She didn't need her brain doing this to her. Not right now. Not as she came to stand right in front of him.

Nesta noted quite a few students still ambling out of the room, taking their time to likely listen to whatever Cassian wanted to talk about.

Busybodies.

Cassian cast a cursory glance behind her shoulder, noting the same thing and likely thinking the same as her too.

Cassian moved then, bringing his laptop and typing something in. Without looking up at her, Cassian said, "I got an email from the registrar that there's been an issue with your scheduling in this class. Can I please have your full name and student ID?"

Nesta hesitated, not sure if he was telling the truth or using it as an excuse to talk to her.

Nesta rattled off the student ID number she'd just memorized that morning, assuming she wouldn't need to but wanting to be careful either way.

"Nesta Katrina Archeron."

Cassian nodded as she spoke and typed a bit more.

"And what's your birthday?"

Nesta almost snarled, telling him it wasn't his business. But there were still two other students in the class that hadn't left yet.

"June 19."

Cassian didn't type anything in, and Nesta followed his gaze as it landed on the last of the stragglers exiting the room.

Almost like a switch flipping, that calm, professional demeanor that Cassian had adopted for all of class time, easily dissipated.

In it's place was a look of anger so deep, so cold, Nesta had no idea how to respond. She'd never dealt with Cassian's anger when it wasn't for something dumb that he could easily over. When it wasn't from a place of laughter and faked irritation. He was genuinely upset in this moment, and Nesta didn't know how to go about it.

"What. The. Hell?"

Nesta's lip curled back of its own accord.

"Don't you dare take that tone with me. I'm just as much fucked in this as you are."

Cassian opened his mouth to say something back, retort with just as much spite as she'd all but hissed at him. But then he stopped, reared back as if in shock, and sighed heavily, his shoulders sagging.

"I'm sorry," he apologized hoarsely, bracing his palms on the table between them, head hanging lowly. "I just don't get how this happened."

I do. We never told each other anything useful about ourselves.

But Nesta kept her mouth shut.

Cassian looked up after a few seconds of awkward silence. "You didn't tell me you got into law school."

Nesta swallowed, not wanting to meeting his hazel eyes in declaration of the painful truth. "I didn't tell anyone except for a few people," she admitted reluctantly. She hadn't even bothered with a phone call to her two sisters when she'd gotten the news. Just a text into their group chat and two "Congratulations" in quick succession had been the response she'd gotten to finally getting her life together. She wouldn't begrudge them for the behavior, even if it did hurt to be snubbed.

"You didn't even tell me you wanted to go to law school."

Nesta shot back her own grievance. "You didn't tell me you were a lawyer."

Cassian looked at her in confusion, brow furrowed, and Nesta resisted the urge to smooth it out with her fingers.

"I thought you knew."

"How the fuck would I know?"

Cassian flinched and his eyes darted around them again, in the empty room.

Right. She needed to stop panicking. Trying again, Nesta lowered her voice and stepped closer to the desk separating them. “Sorry. But how I would have known? You never said anything.”

Cassian opened his mouth and then shut it again, eyes widening in some sort of realization that he wasn’t about to share. Shuffling some papers into a stack, he muttered down at the floor. “I just thought you did.”

Nesta shook her head. Sighed. “Okay. I’m going to go speak to the registrar and get this class changed.”

“No. You can’t.”

Nesta scoffed. “I can and I will. It’s the first day. They can’t stop me.”

Cassian moved around the desk until they were properly face to face. Too close. This was too close for any respectable professor and student to be around each other. Nesta took a step back and Cassian seemed to realize his mistake, cringing slightly before also stepping back.

“Sorry,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “But they won’t let you drop the class. Crim law is a requirement here for every first year.”

“Surely there are other...teachers.” She wouldn’t say professor. That was too weird for her.

Cassian nodded. “Yeah, but Nolan's a piece of shit and known for being a hardass with his grading. You can't get higher than a B and that's if he tolerates you."

"I'll take my chances," Nesta snapped, turning on her heel and making her way towards the door. But a firm grip on her wrist pulled her back.

Nesta forced herself to calm her thoughts and emotions. Let the cool mask slip on that she’d mastered for so long. Let him see that version of her instead of the confused, heartbroken mess she had suddenly become inside the minute Cassian had put his name and “Professor” into the same sentence.

“What?” It was a biting question and Nesta knew that if it were any other man, they definitely would have flinched away from the stare she was leveling at him.

But Cassian wasn’t like any other man that had been in Nesta’s life before. Not in the ways where it mattered at least. Where others would have realized just how dangerous a game they were already playing, Cassian seemed to be ignoring it. Pulling her just enough that she had to come closer. Had to feel his breath fan across her face one last time. Knew that this would be the true end to whatever they may or may not have become one day.

“Stay. Don’t drop this class. You need to do good this year.” His words were softly spoken. Almost coaxing her gently into acceptance, but Nesta heard the underlying meaning.

“I don’t want a good grade in this class because you fucked me,” Nesta retorted sharply.

That did get to him. Cassian jerked away, releasing his hold on her. His eyes turned cold and Nesta felt the animosity hit her like a slap. She knew all about slaps. And Cassian’s expression hurt her more than any of them before. She’d always known she’d push him away one day. Her indifference, her attitude, that callous cruelty of her mouth. But she hadn’t realized how much it would hurt to see his reaction to it.

Cassian held her stare with a firmer one of his own. “You won’t. You’ll earn it just like everyone else in your class. But unlike with Nolan, you’ll earn what you get fairly. Don’t drop the class, Nesta. I won’t tell and if you choose not to either, well, nothing happened then. Nothing has to happen.”

Nesta knew then that later on she would replay his words over and over in her head until she may cry. Knew that they had left a profound impact on her in a way that she never wanted him to.

Nothing happened.

Sure she’d kept it that way, with her rules and arrangement. But it clanged around in her mind, how Cassian saw what they’d been doing together as.

Nothing.

She was nothing. They were nothing. And that was all there was to it.

But Nesta wouldn’t do this in front of him. Lose her mind and have it be pointed out just what a crazy bitch she really was. Not by Cassian. She couldn’t bear that. And she sure as hell wouldn’t go and tell on him, even if he had spoken as if he were unsure about her decision.

Instead, Nesta squared her shoulders and nodded.

“Nothing happens.”

Cassian hesitated, for a bare, fraction of a moment, but she saw it all the same. Then he nodded too.

“Nothing happens.”

~*~

Nesta leaned back against the chair, as Gwyn looked at her wide-eyed. She’d been overwhelmed by the fiasco of her first class. Had barely focused on anything the professor’s said throughout the rest of her day. She hadn’t even bothered to take out a pencil in the later afternoon classes and had fumbled around in her bag for one when an attendance sheet passed around in one of her smaller classes. Had it not been for the man sitting next to her who’d silently handed her a pencil with a small smile, she would have faced even more embarrassment on an already shitty day.

She’d seen him in a few other classes of hers, vaguely remembering his face from Cassian’s class as well. Nesta had sneaked a peek onto the sheet when he’d taken it after her, signing “Lucien” after impatiently pushing his red, waist-length hair out of his face. He’d given her another smile after he’d passed the sheet on and Nesta had returned it tentatively. She wasn’t one to smile at strangers. Barely did it with people she knew well too unless they were her friends or...Cassian.

So she’d called up her friends, praying to the Mother that they wouldn’t be too busy for her. Emerie had already graduated law school. Was already working for a legal clinic in the downtown area and loving every minute of it. Gwyn was usually always busy completing her postdoc program for psychology, but she too had made time for Nesta today. Had likely heard how rattled she sounded on the phone and had picked Emerie up on the way to their favorite bar to meet Nesta there.

"So..." Gwyn started, her eyes darting towards the bar for a second, "What do you call him?"

Nesta scoffed. "Nothing. I'm not going to talk to him or address him if I can help it. Just going to keep my head down, do my work, and get through the semester."

Emerie sat back down then, another margarita in hand and wordlessly handed it to Nesta, who accepted gratefully. She'd need another one soon with the topic at hand.

"Okay but valid question. What if you have a question? I know you're a genius or whatever, but you're going to raise your hand and talk. And either way, he’s going to cold call eventually. You can’t get away with not talking to him. So, what’s the plan to talk to him? Professor? Cassian?,” Emerie asked matter-of-factly.

But then with an evil smirk, she added in with a sultry tone, “Daddy?”

Nesta smacked her friend’s shoulder faster than Gwyn could stop her. Gwyn who was currently howling with her head thrown back, not a care in the world at everyone around them watching. Emerie rubbed the spot where Nesta had landed a hit with contempt but Nesta narrowed her eyes right back at her.

Gwyn eventually wiped tears from her eyes, slowly catching her breath from the laughing fit Nesta thought really wasn’t necessary.

It wasn’t that funny.

Gwyn placed a comforting hand on Nesta’s shoulder and Nesta leaned slightly into it. The last thing she needed to hear were jokes about this horrifying situation. Comfort was all she wanted.

“Leave her alone, Emerie,” Gwyn chided. “You don’t know what you’re talking about saying things like that.”

Nesta sighed in relief. “Thank you.”

Finally, someone understood how she felt.

Gwyn nodded. “No problem Nesta. I’m on your side don’t worry. You just need to keep your head down, avoid speaking as much as possible, and whenever you absolutely do need to talk, just call him Professor Daddy.”

“Bitch.”

Emerie joined Gwyn as they laughed even louder.

Nesta hissed, "You two are useless. I’m having a dilemma and here you two are cracking jokes about it.”

“Because it’s funny!,” Emerie insisted. “Who would have thought, Cassian, the guy you’ve been seeing, the one we haven’t even met yet by the way, is not only a lawyer, but your new professor. I mean honestly, it’s like a match made in heaven.”

Gwyn muttered under her breath. “Hell. It’s a match made in hell.”

Nesta went to smack her too but Gwyn nimbly got to her feet, announcing that she was going to go order their food.

“I can’t believe you didn’t know he was a lawyer. Goes to show just how smart miss perfect is going to be in school.” Emerie chuckled again and Nesta reigned in a mean comment that wouldn’t bode well.

Nesta rolled her eyes instead. “Fuck you. I’ll manage. And besides, it’s not like I didn’t Google him. I did.”

Emerie raised her brows, as if to say, “But did you really try hard?”

“I did!,” Nesta insisted. “I looked up Cassian and his address but I couldn’t find shit.”

Emerie furrowed her brows in confusion. “You just put in his first name. What about his last?”

Nesta shrank back in her seat. “I...um...I didn’t know his last name until today.”

Emerie didn’t show her surprise at that. Nor did she show any judgement. Both her and Gwyn knew that her and Cassian’s relationship was more based on sex and less on private and intimate details. She also didn’t say how pathetic that was of her, or how stupid considering this was someone Nesta had let into her house and her bed.

Indeed, what if he had been a serial killer like Gwyn had warned about all those months ago?

Emerie pulled out her phone, flicking her eyes up at Nesta after putting in her password. “Okay what’s his full name?”

“Cassian Virin.”

Emerie looked like she was choking. A strange fizzing noise seemed to be coming from her lips but she looked more on the verge of screaming rather than laughing.

“You’re fucking with me right?”

Nesta glanced at Gwyn as she sat back down, putting away her credit card and the receipt of the meal she’d just ordered for them all. Nesta peeked at the bill. Tacos. Thank the Mother. Gwyn knew exactly what she needed in that moment.

Snapping her attention away from dinner, Nesta shook her head at Emerie, knowing she hadn't heard wrong when Cassian had spoken earlier that day.

“No. I heard him say it. Cassian. Virin. That’s his name.”

Emerie stared and stared and stared.

“What?” she finally snapped.

“What? What? What do you mean what? You don’t know who he is?”

Nesta stared blankly. Emerie let out a sound of exasperation before typing on her phone and shoving it towards Nesta.

On the screen were images of Cassian. Cassian with the men whose photos littered his home- his brothers most likely. Cassian with some leggy blonde who Nesta admitted secretly she hated on sight just for how close she was posing next to him. Cassian in picture after picture, article after article.

Nesta’s eyes scanned impatiently over the words on the screen, devouring every news report and article until finally she realized what she’d missed completely. Cassian wasn’t just any lawyer. He was known as one of the best criminal defense attorneys in the state of Illinois.

“How did you not know this?,” Emerie demanded once Nesta explained her revelation.

Nesta was mildly affronted at that. “I...don’t really know. I’m not from here like you two are. I lived in California for most of my life. I wouldn’t have known anything about him. And it’s not like I went to law school for four years to figure out that he’s a celebrity,” Nesta added on, shooting a look at Emerie with her last sentence.

Emerie leaned back in her chair, not at all affected. “Yeah I know. I keep forgetting since you’ve adapted so well.” Turning to Gwyn, Emerie asked, “Remember how she came here sounding like a Valley girl before.”

Nesta gave her the middle finger as Gwyn giggled.

Nesta had met Gwyn and Emerie as a freshman in college during her first shift at a local bar. Gwyn had been a senior, well on her way to graduating with honors and starting her Masters program in Neuropsychology. Emerie had come from Evanston after her undergraduate years and was attending The University of Chicago Law School. Nesta still considered it fate that five years later, it ended up being the same school Nesta ended up being accepted to and attending. The two older girls had taken Nesta in, under their wing, and the friendship had been easy and safe. For the first time in Nesta’s life, she felt that she belonged somewhere. After her sophomore year, Nesta thought her life was almost close to perfect. Especially when she met-

No. Not going to think about that today.

Nesta ignored the dark train of thought her mind had almost taken her to and instead tuned back into the conversation that was happening around her. Gwyn was doing an impression of Nesta’s apparent valley girl accent and Emerie was doing a horrific, overexaggerated Chicago one, with both girls asserting that Nesta switched between the two of them all the time.

Nesta smacked them both before digging into her tacos.

Damned witches.

~*~

Nesta kept her head down as Cassian spoke to a student in the front row about the assigned case readings. Her previous night’s swagger had been kindly reduced to smithereens after she’d gone home and taken in the readings she needed to finish for Cassian’s class...

And every other class she had too.

Nesta had been ready to quit the night of, regretting the night out she’d stupidly had with Gwyn and Emerie, no matter how fun she’d found it to be. She’d powered through on spite alone at the thought of messing up on only the second day, in Cassian’s class no less. The rest of her work for her other classes had only been helped by espresso shots. Nesta was wired for the better part of early morning, but not the fatigue was finally beginning to catch up with her.

Nesta was writing down the spare few words that she was able to pick up on, but her sleep deprived brain could do little in terms of actually paying attention and creating concrete notes that would make sense if she revisited them. She’d definitely regret it whenever she sat down to study, but Gods she was so tired.

Nesta got a vague sensation of being stared at. Of being watched. But she ignored and continued writing nonsensical words onto her paper. A sharp jab in her side caught her attention.

A panicked Lucien beside her whispered frantically to her, “He called on you twice already. Say something!”

Nesta was confused. She looked at Lucien for a little longer, his words still not quite processing with her.

“Archeron.” Cassian’s voice cut through the fog in her head and she snapped her attention to the front of the room. Cassian was glowering at her and to Nesta’s horror, her feeling of being watched had been completely accurate. Everyone was staring at her.

“Yes?” Nesta cleared her throat, not liking how meek and disoriented she sounded.

Cassian sighed. “I asked you what you thought of your classmate’s response. Do you agree or not? And why?”

Fuck her. She hadn’t heard anything useful. Hadn’t been paying enough attention at all.

Nesta chanced a glance at Lucien sitting next to her, and he had what she thought to be a mirroring expression to her own on his face. Horror, panic and absolute embarrassment.

“I...I don’t know,” she finally admitted. Didn’t want to say she hadn’t been able to focus long enough on whatever he and the other student had been saying to even fake an answer. She simply didn’t know.

Cassian nodded a few times, more to himself than anyone else. “Do you have any opinion at all about what you were assigned to read last night?”

She did. Tons actually. But suddenly, Nesta felt the eyes on her narrow in scrutiny. Could practically hear their thoughts out loud.

Not good enough. Not smart.. Useless. Not worthy.

You don’t belong anywhere, Nesta.

Nesta couldn’t bring herself to say no, knowing that admitting defeat rather than trying to overcome the nerves was the better option. It didn’t matter that she did know what was going on in class. Or that she wasn’t an idiot like it looked like to the entire class. Nesta simply shook her head, tightening the muscles in her face as tears began blurring her eyesight. She would not cry. Not like this.

Cassian’s face flickered with some sort of emotion, one she couldn’t place, but it was there and gone.

“Disappointing,” he announced, stare still leveled on her. She could feel the tension crackle through the air. It would have been better if he’d yelled at her or kicked her out of the class. Instead, he’d all but called her a failure, and now she’d have to sit through the rest of the class with that hanging over her.

Which she did.

Painfully. Angrily. Upset and barely composed.

But she did it.

And as she began packing up her things at the end of the period, Lucien giving her a small pitiful smile that she barely returned, Nesta contemplated how quickly she could run out of the room without looking directly at Cassian.

Except, as fate would have it, she was not a favorite in the world by whatever Gods had created it.

“Nesta,” Cassian called out softly, just as she began walking by his desk in the front of the room.

Nesta steeled her spine, sighing in defeat as she made her way over to him.

Cassian didn’t speak to her as she came to stand in front of his desk. Didn’t even look up from his computer screen, typing in Gods knew what. Nesta was about to leave, rules and proper manners be damned, but the last student finally walked out of the room.

Finally Cassian looked at her.

“What was that?,” he asked lightly, crossing his arms across his chest.

Nesta decided to feign ignorance. “What was what?”

A sly smile played on his lips. “Cute. But not wise. Why couldn’t you answer today?”

“Because I didn’t know the answer.”

Cassian cocked his head a fraction, examining her. As if the entirety of her was wrong, not just her response to him.

“I hope you understand there was no right or wrong answer. It was a discussion to help orient your thought process and how you analyze the material. Which you would be able to participate in as long as you read what you were supposed to.”

“Well, I didn’t finish the readings.”

The lie sat and tasted bitter in her mouth. She hated it. Hated admitting weakness in such a horrible way. In a way that wasn’t even truthful, just to save face and not have to admit the profoundly large effect Cassian had ended up having on her.

Cassian chuckled. A dark, sinister thing that Nesta hadn’t been privy to witnessing ever. He walked around his desk until they were again closer. Again with far too little space between them. Again with those glinting hazel eyes peering down at her.

“Now that’s funny. Because it’s almost believable except you’re not the person that doesn’t do your homework. In fact, according to what I saw from your records and application, it’s not in your nature to do so.”

“You read my application?,” she demanded, furious with a touch of panic. "How did you even get it?”

Cassian scoffed. “One, I didn’t read all of it. I just saw your coursework, your grades, and your letters of recommendation. I didn’t read your personal statement, don’t worry. And two, all the professors have access to student records.”

Lie. That had to be a violation of some sort. He so didn’t have access to shit. What he did have, Nesta would begrudgingly admit, was a beautiful face and a great smile. and way too much charm for anyone to be oblivious to it.

Nesta didn’t respond, so Cassian continued.

“Great grades. Stunning observations about your work ethic as a student and determination to come to class prepared by almost everyone who wrote you a letter. So, I don’t think you’d fuck around on your work. Especially not on the first week of classes.”

Nesta couldn't deny it any longer. “Fine,” she expelled in a quick breath. “I finished the readings.”

“All of them?” Cassian confirmed.

“Yes. All of them.”

“Then why not say something today?”

Nesta sighed in defeat. “Because I wasn’t paying enough attention the first time around with whatever you and that guy were talking about. And then everyone was staring at me and I...”

“You panicked and forgot what you had to say? And even if you did, you knew it would come out completely wrong and be mortifying?”

Nesta nodded miserably, looking at her shoes, biting her lip.

A cool set of fingers grasped her chin and tilted her face back up. Cassian forced her to look at him. Wouldn’t let her run away from it.

“it happens,” he said softly. “You’ll learn. You’ll be okay.”

She half wondered if he was telling her more for himself or for her. Nesta didn’t dwell on it, knowing full well how this was going to end. Carefully, she pulled back from him, from the hand that was still grasping her chin, and Cassian seemed to remember who they were and what they were doing. Or, what they weren’t supposed to be doing.

“Thank you,” she said awkwardly.

Cassian gave her a small smile and she returned it weakly.

“Well, I should go,” she announced after a few awkard seconds.

“Of course. Don’t be late,” Cassian let out in a rush.

Nesta had almost made it to the door when Cassian called for her again.

“Yeah?”

Cassian looked at his laptop before glancing back at her again.

“You did really well in your undergraduate years. Except for junior year, your grades were terrific. You took the LSATs on time too and you scored really well,” he summarized neatly. Nesta could feel bile climbing up her throat as Cassian added in quickly, “And you scored even higher than me!”

Nesta didn’t know what to say, knowing where the question was likely heading.

“So why take a year in between college and law school? I saw that you worked as a paralegal, but with this application, I can tell you, you would have gotten in without it.”

She’d been right about what Cassian had been going to ask her. She also knew that this was not the question she would be answering today. Not today, not with him, and likely not ever. Nesta decided on a simple lie instead.

“I couldn’t afford the tuition. So I decided to wait the year, work more than I can ever do right now and get a head start on loans and saving money. It also helped me settle down into my apartment rather than a college dorm.”

“You’re still working?,” Cassian asked surprised, not commenting on what she’d revealed about her tuition. She could have handled it but that year had been nothing to do with money and everything to do with Nesta’s personal turmoils.

Nesta shook her head. “I quit once I got accepted, but looking at that bill every month is making me worry that it wasn’t smart to do that. So, not currently working, but I want to soon. Somewhere closer to school though. The other firm was too far away from here for me to make it work.”

Cassian’s brows raised slightly at the confession. “Most students aren’t advised to work during 1L. You can do it if you really need to, but it’s not a requirement and it makes classes horribly difficult to get through.”

Nesta thought about it. Knew he was right but that she didn’t exactly have a choice. “I’ll be fine,” she told him.

Cassian looked at her with a more pronounced smile than before. “Of course you will sweet-....um...Nesta. You’ll do great. Have a good rest of the day.”

“Thank you.” Nesta ignored his slip-up, his pet name for her that she’d acted irritated by but secretly loved. Ignored the pang in her chest as she turned away from him.

Nesta walked out of Cassian’s classroom, not sure if she felt lighter or heavier from the moment that she’d stepped back into it.

~*~

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st0nesnglitter · 4 years ago

Text

The boss

This man, this fucking man, will be the death of me

Also it’s the gifs fault this has taken so long cause I’ve just been staring at him

Also thanks to @quindolyn who helped me write a part of this so I could get it out

Disclaimer: This is just a piece of fiction and the abuse of this power balance isn’t acceptable.

Smut lol

The constant tapping of keys could make you mad sometimes, a pattering melody that indicated that time was passing during your work days. The job was simple. Check emails, answer the phone and keep track of his schedule. During the months of working for Mr. Black you had also developed a habit of ordering his lunch. In his top drawer he always had some crappy candy to keep him going, sometimes walking down to the floor below to get himself a coffee, and nothing more. So you asked him if he wanted a sandwich when you got back from your lunch break and kept doing it ever since.

The sound of buzzing pulled you from your thoughts and you looked down to press the intercom button.

“What do you need, sir?” You asked politely and looked over at the calendar to make sure you haven’t forgotten anything.

“Will you please get in here?” Sirius responded before dropping the conversation, keeping pleasantries short.

You stood up and straightened out your skirt before walking around your desk. Even though didn’t need to you gave the door a small knock before opening the door to his office.

“What can I help you with?” You asked sweetly and closed the door behind you.

Sirius sat behind his pitch black desk wearing just a dress shirt and slacks, his jacket descarded over the stiff sofa by the window. His hair was pulled into a bun that sat at the bottom of his neck, a couple curls had sprung free and framed his face.

“Can you look over these forms for me and then get them down to HR?” He asked holding a folder up toward you and you stepped forward to take it.

“Sure, should I make copies and get them back here or are HR filing them?” You asked as you flipped through the papers to get an understanding of what they were about.

“Tell them to file them, don’t want to put any more work load on you, love” he said and looked up with a smile, before turning back to his screen, “that’s all”.

You took the folder and walked out to your desk again, a little more flushed in the face than when you walked in. Before you took the job you had heard how the boss was harsh and pretty mean when he wanted to, but Sirius seemed to have taken a liking to you. He had only spoken kind words to you and had never made you worked overtime. In the mornings he always greeted you, sometimes staying to have a chat about the day ahead, and if he didn’t stay to work late into the night he always bid you goodbye.

Your thoughts started to wander into a daydream as you tried to read the forms he had given you, slowly drifting to some rather inappropriate thoughts to have about your boss. But how could you not when he looked like that? Eyes shining like the moon with such a depth that could make anyone lose their breath, hair silky and shiny that fell over his shoulders perfectly and the most blinding smile. How you got to see him so dressed everyday always made your mind wander to how he looked under his clothes. And his hands, oh his hands, were the most glorious things you’ve seen. The rings he wears, the way the veins pop out when he grips a pen and how he gestures to make his point clear always made you drool and your knees buckle. It always ended up with you thinking about how his hands would feel on you.

You shook your head to rid the thoughts and took a deep breath. After lazily reading through you walked three offices over to give them over to HR. The secretary behind the desk was unfamiliar to you and you greeted him with a smile, making some small talk before walking back to your desk.

The rest of your work day was uneventful. Talking with other companies over the phone, planning meetings and updating Sirius’ schedule over the next month.

Two men walked in for an afternoon meeting and you decided to take a little break, going down to the nearest cafe.

When the two men came back out you met them with a smile and the blonde one walked up to your desk.

”He wants you to in there” he said before giving you a quick nod.

You finished up the email you were writing and went into the office. Sirius sat behind his desk with his jaw clenched, fingers tapping against the wood of the table.

“What’s wrong Sir?” It was clear that something was wrong with Sirius, tension radiated off of him, if the physical signs weren’t clear enough.

“Close the door please,” he commanded with a stern tone and a slight unpleasant feeling washed over you as his irritation was now directed toward you. For the whole time you had worked for him he had never been harsh against you.

Closing the door behind you, making sure it latched, you walked further into his office and thoughts were flashing in your head. Is he going go fire you? Did something happen to the deal? Was it your fault?

“Did those men bother you?” He asked, his eyes holding yours with what seemed like a kindness hidden behind layers of despise and

You furrowed your brow in confusion, had you missed something? The only words they had uttered to you was about him wanting you in his office.

“No sir, is something the matter?” He was silent, “Did they agree to your proposal? Should I begin the paperwork?”

He scoffed, leaning back further in his chair, “I won’t be doing business with them. I’m sorry if you wasted your time with beginning the paperwork.”

“It’s fine, I didn’t start it but may I ask why not? It seemed like a promising partnership.”

Sirius sighed as he massaged the bridge of his nose, seemingly very upset over something. When he didn’t answer right away you opened your mouth to say some rushed apology if you overstepped some boundaries, but then his cool grey eyes shot up at you.

“They said some very unprofessional things about you and I don’t wanna validate their statements by going into a partnership with them”.

You were slightly taken aback by his statement: both relieved that you were not the one who explicitly did something but also even more stressed since he blew off a big deal because of you.

“Mr. Black, if I’m in some way am standing in the way of this deal I can stand back, work behind the scen-“ you started but got cut off by him standing up abruptly.

“You did not do anything wrong. They’re just sexist pigs who obviously never been in the presence of a gorgeous woman” he muttered out, dropping the professionalism and the proper words, shifting the energy in the room.

He turned around to look at you, the line in between his eyebrows softening and he slowly tilted his head.

“M’ sorry, didn’t mean to put this in you” Sirius put his hands in his back pockets and pulled his lips into a thin line.

“I’m just confused why you aren’t more upset about the deal” you said honestly, feeling comfortable to share your thoughts in the more casual conversation you had, “I’ve been planning sub-meetings for weeks”.

“They disrespected you! Said some shit about you being a trophy” he sighed and leaned against the front of his desk, “can’t stand stuff like that”.

Your eyebrows knitted together tighter and let your head fall into a shake as you huffed slightly.

“Don’t understand why I go higher than a multi million dollar deal”.

Sirius looked back up to you again and sighed, but not as frustrated anymore.

“You really don’t get it, huh?” He asked, mostly rhetorically, but was encouraged to continue when he saw your little shake, “you are ethereal. You have this magnetism to you and I’ve tried to stay away but it’s so fucking hard!”

You gasped slightly at his word and in a haze from his compliments you took two small steps forward, getting closer to him.

“Why don’t you try not staying away from me?” You asked in a quiet voice, almost like you didn’t want him to hear.

But, oh, did he hear you and he closed the gap in between you, soft lips grazing yours. He stopped his movements right before it became an actual kiss, savoring the moment before crashing into you.

The kiss went from slow and reassuringly to heated in a matter of minutes and you started to grip onto him harder, pulling him as close as possible. But as his kiss went down your neck you realized where you were and who you were doing this with.

“We.. we maybe shouldn’t do it here, in your office” you whimpered out, but your grip on him to get him closer, “you’re my boss”.

His lips kept attacking your neck, sucking and biting, and he huffed at your comment.

”We can stop if you want, just say the words” he challenged and nipped extra hard at your neck.

You shook your head violently and let out a gasp at the feeling of his teeth grazing your skin, right by your pulsepoint.

“You’re a teenage wet dream” he pulled away to look at you, his lips a little swollen, “the sexy secretary”. He punctuated his words by grabbing a handful of your ass.

Sirius’ lips went back to your neck but slower this time. The passion was still their but it felt like he made an attempt to savor it, to take his time. His hands gripped onto your hips to push you closer to him.

“Do you know how many times I’ve wanted to bend you over my desk?” He growled as he pulled off his tie, snapping you out of your shock and your hand went to help him with the buttons of his white shirt.

His movements were harsh but you were always comfortable, he kept pulling away for eye-contact to make sure you weren’t regretting anything. And in your frenzy of pulling at the fabrics around his body your brushed against the package in his pants and his whole self tensed up. At first the placement of your movements and his reaction didn’t connect, but when it clicked you laughed breathlessly and started to palm his softly.

“Did that feel good, Mr. Black?” You asked as innocently as you could when you stood there with your skirt hiked up, red marks all over your neck and with your hand on your boss’ bulge.

“Oh you little minx” he growled before reaching for the buttons of your blouse.

Slowly the black fabric of your bra started showing and he let his forehead fall onto your shoulder, letting out a low groan, before taking in the view that was your chest. His eyes raked over your figure and a mix between a giddy smile and a mischievous smirk found its way onto his lips.

“You’re gorgeous, and all for me, huh?” He asked as his bottom lip got caught under his teeth.

You backed up so you could rest your butt against his desk, pushing his shirt off of his shoulders. Sirius’ hands found their way to the back of your skirt, fiddling with the zipper until he felt the nod of your head, pulling it down so you could step out of the garment.

When he got a glance of the black fabric of your panties that matched the bra he let his head fall back. You weren’t ashamed to admit that a chunk if your paycheck went to pretty underwear, one of your favorite ways of self-care.

He started undoing his pants as he watched you, eyes slightly glazed, and with his full attention on your body you felt a surge of confidence and your hands went behind your back to unclasp your bra. You let it fall to the ground, next to the rest of your clothes, and you smiled proudly at him.

“You’re gonna be the death of me” he muttered as he grabbed onto you again, kicking his pants of off him, “gotta be quick, love, and I promise to make it up to you”.

Sirius hooked two fingers under the waistband of your underwear and slid them down your legs, kissing his way back up. Somehow he had pulled down his boxers too and your eyes went down to see the most glorious dick you’ve ever seen. Instinctively you went down to grab it but he caught you.

“Can’t right now darling, gotta be inside you right now or I might combust” he grabbed onto your hips and placed you firmly on the desk.

With your legs spread he had easy access to slowly push into you, eyes trained on yours to detect any discomfort. Your breath hitched as you felt him stretch you out, dragging a hand through his raven hair.

“Fuckin’ hell, you feel so good” he let his head once again fall against your shoulder as he slowly brought his hips away from you, feeling every intricate detail of your inner walls.

The lazy pace didn’t last long though as his hips started to snap into yours, a rush flowing through his veins to make you feel as good as possible. You wrapped your legs around him and hooked your feet at small of your back.

“Harder Sirius, please” you whined, slightly embarrassed that he had made you so desperate so quickly, but the pleasure that resulted in your command let those thoughts fall out of your head quickly.

The sound in his office was downright filthy as you both moaned out loud, skin slapping against each other. Even though you were at a considerably public place that didn’t stop the noises that he pulled out of you.

“Fuck you’re so big, sir” you didn’t mean to utter the title in that moment, your need to be professional hardwired into you, and you felt Sirius slow down slightly.

“Say that again” he demanded.

“Yo-you’re so big... sir” you mewled out and his eyes scrunched together.

The speed that his hips were moving most have been close to speed of light, your body moving around like a ragdoll on the furniture. A pressure was forming in your lower stomach and an urgent need for release filled you. Your hand went down to rub at your clit but he swatted it away to do it himself.

“Are you getting close?” He breathed out, his thumb moving deliciously over your bundle of nerves.

The combination of stimulation got you so close that you couldn’t even utter the words before crashing over the edge. The way you squeezed him got him there too, filling you up with warm ropes of cum.

The two of you stood there for a while, foreheads pressed together, and basked in this new form of intimacy. Sirius slowly moved to pull out of you and let out a puff of laugh as he looked down at his clock.

“Seems like I might have kept you in the office after hours” Sirius smiled brightly at you and you shook your head with a giggle.

“Fine by me if that’s the work I do after hours.”

#sirius black #sirius black smut #sirius black headcanon #sirius black one shot #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius black blurb #sirius black fic

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opinated-user · 2 years ago

Note

Anon who found the EbaraTara account here:

I'm on Sankaku because several artists on there have been caught using real life pictures and videos of children having sex as references for their art, and if you can submit proof, Sankaku will track the IP of the artist who uploaded it/use their email and contact info to inform the police about this and will start the legal process necessary to allow for legal transfer of your evidence to the police. This allows for victims of predators who recognize themselves as the image reference to get the police involved in the case.

I was a victim of a predator and groomer from age 6 to age 12. He was a 3D shota/loli/sholicon artist, and I was used for reference pictures. I know I was, and so I'm on Sankaku because I chronically search through tags I know he could have produced art for. Although he's in prison now, the internet is forever - the art is probably still in circulation, maybe even the actual pictures, too. And the idea of them being out there gives me tremendous anxiety. I'm on anxiety meds, I'm in both individual therapy and a support group, and this has been a problem for me for years at this point. As more and more sites refuse to host hyperrealistic 3D shota, loli and sholicon, and as I get deeper into therapy and find a medication regime that helps me more, I don't go tag trawling like I used to nearly as often. I still have panic attacks, paranoid episodes and dissociative episodes, but the need to check five times a day and scroll through every new upload in the tags has gone down. I do it like once a week now at most.

And if you click on an image on Sankaku, say, to look closer and see if the image looks like it was a modified version of one of you or if the proportions are off enough that you can assume it's not based on real references, then the site has a rating bar for images and a favorite function off on the left side. Under the favorite function is a list of the last handful of users who favorited the image.

That's how I found EbaraTara's account. Alchorative, I searched for manually later, but I found EbaraTara's account on accident. I wasn't looking for it.

I clicked on the profile, which was empty, went to the faves and at the time the most recent page was all bestiality stuff, which reminded me of Lily. I sat on that for a while, not sure if I should tell anyone about it. The most recent page of favorites kept updating frequently (there were 855 faves before the account shut down) and there was a lot of gay shota, which I didn't associate with her since she talks mostly about F/F ships. I thought it could be a very weird coincidence. It still might be. It might not be Lily. I'm not saying it absolutely has to be her because all I have is what I found and what I found doesn't have identifying information beyond the name EbaraTara on it.

I don't resent anon for calling me a pedophile because I know having a Sankaku account looks bad. I know without context it looks sus. And I know it's really awful that when I look at these images I numb over and feel nothing and nothing is real and nothing matters, and that being able to browse the site probably means I'm not a good person. But 1. I am in therapy to fix the damage that has been done to me by my rapist/groomer/"boyfriend and 2. the fact that I am extremely damaged and not a good person does not change the legitimately concerning nature of what I found.

I'm not asking anon to forgive the fact that I browse the site. That's probably not excusable and my therapist has told me many times it's not healthy.

But I am asking them not to rush to assume that my being there invalidates what was found on it.

(Sorry for the wall of text, just. Being accused of pedophilia myself is really frustrating and angering given what I've been through.)

for whatever is worth, anon, me and others who recieved those messages didn't immediately jumped to make any accusation as that anon did. we could all clearly see that it was deflection from the main issue, that's still LO being a hypocrite. i'm terribly sorry for what you went through but i'm glad that you're currently recieving the help you deserve and are in a better space. wether this is all one big coincidence or happened to come across the secret account of LO, we're grateful that you brought this information to light and we can all come out with our own conclusions.

#tw: rape #tw: grooming #tw: csa #lily orchard

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barzzal · 4 years ago

Text

between halls and thin walls → part two

summary: friends who fool around almost never work. almost.

↳ pairing: mathew barzal x you

↳ warnings: swearing, sex toys, masturbation, sexual/suggestive themes, and yenno, mathew :(

↳ genre: angst, smut, roommates au, best friend’s best friend, friends with benefits, 18+ minors dni*

↳ length: series; part one, part two (5.9k), part three, part four, part five, part six

↳ masterlist: the barn

↳ track: listened to a lot of beyoncé for this one !!

note: part two’s here!! and i know it’s late for an update but i just wanna thank everyone for commenting on the first part 🥺 really glad that you guys liked it. reading your tags are everything to me it means a lot! happy reading <3 (gif used: mine)

You come out of your bedroom dressed and ready for work. Your handbag was slung over the depth of your forearm as you headed for the kitchen and the other, scrolling past emails on your phone, admittedly bracing yourself for the mess you know will eventually greet you.

To your surprise, what you see instead were Mat Barzal’s guns rippling through the jet black sweater he had worn last night. A memory that sent your mind to less than eight hours ago, before eventually landing on what happened shortly when the two of you had woken up.

“Thank god you haven’t burnt the house down.” you kid, placing your handbag atop the island.

Mat spares you a quick glance, rolling his eyes whilst he lets you watch him whisk some eggs for breakfast.

“Like it?” he cocks, pertaining to how your eyes were pinned hard on his biceps that he was, for the most part, effortlessly sporting. It’s true, though. He didn’t need to flex because it was just there.

“Coffee or Juice?” he asks, as the kind friend and roommate that he is.

Anthony, as surprising as it was, takes incredibly long showers. If people hadn’t known him well, they’d easily think he’s abusing himself there. But you’ve got to admit that not having him around felt nice for you didn’t have to feel so seen with Mathew.

‘Course, there’s nothing more, like a fix-in on the side, to your set up. You just appreciate the feeling of not having to lie to Beau about all the ugly concealed underneath all the innocent gazes you and Mathew exchange.

“Coffee.” you answer shortly, realizing that you forgot the material you need for today’s meeting.

“Where are you going?” Mat asks when he catches you receding out into the hallway. You didn’t bother looking back, “Forgot something!”

He gets back to whisking the eggs when a chime comes off his phone. He takes it from the counter, placed just before the plates he left to dry last night, absent-mindedly putting the bowl he was holding onto the island, toppling over the green juice he has prepared for himself.

“Shit.” he curses as soon as he sees it for it was already spilling all over the place, making the mess you’ve been secretly anticipating the moment Mathew said he’d make breakfast.

Panicking at how you’d see he’s successfully screwed such a no-brainer task, Mat grabs the first thing he sees on the marbled surface and uses it to clean the mess he’d made.

“Huh.” he muses to himself, realizing that the silk fabric didn’t do much in helping him clean up. He tosses it over the sink carelessly and grabs a few napkin rolls from one of the cupboards.

So much for making an effort to feed Anthony Beauvillier.

“Now, that was fast.” you say with a smirk once you’ve entered the kitchen, startling Mathew as he continued cleaning up after his mess.

“Ha-ha. Very funny.” he sarcastically laughs, discarding the paper towels onto the sink along with the used ones.

Thankfully, your stuff was at the other side of the island so it was very much safe from all the chaos happening at the other end of the marbled surface. However, your laugh dies down the second you realize that your handkerchief was no longer where you’ve last put it.

“Hey,” you call on Mathew, “What’s up?”

“Have you seen my handkerchief? I know I left it somewhere.” you anxiously ask, eyeing every corner of the room hoping to see Nana’s handkerchief, the one she gave to you on your 18th birthday.

“What does it look like?” Mat asks, now holding a pan in his hand as he prepares breakfast.

You proceeded to describe your grandma’s handkerchief in the most specific and perhaps excruciating detail Mathew has ever heard someone talk about something as mind-numbing as a handkerchief.

Despite that, Mat lights up the moment it hits him, not realizing the bigger mess he’s about to walk into. He rejoices at how he knew exactly what you were looking for, “Oh! You mean this?”

With clueless eyes, you watch Mat go over the sink after he wipes his hands dry, fishing out an all too familiar fabric from the sink. Once your eyes land onto the cream colored silk handkerchief, with details carefully sewn by hand, drenching in what seems to be Mat’s morning drink, your heart falls to the pit of your stomach.

“What did you do??” The sudden rise in your voice startles an unsuspecting Mathew. You eagerly went over to his side and hastily snatched the smooth fabric off his hands, “It’s ruined!”

“What? I didn’t know it was yours!” Mat’s eyes are wild with confusion. Puzzled at how you were so fixated on the useless fabric. It didn’t help him anyway. There’s nothing much left to do but to throw it. It’s garbage.

“You ruined it!” you lash out, letting Mat get eaten up by the sudden anger bubbling inside your guts but he was rather quick in defending himself, “I didn’t know it was yours since I grabbed the first thing I could find. Why are you getting upset over a shit-ass handkerchief?”

Your mouth falls and you shake your head, finding his defensiveness quite appalling. “You’re an ass.”

“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was yours.” he explains, “Come on, it’s just a stupid handkerchief I’ll just buy you a new one.” he tries to laugh the tension off, sporting his signature grin.

Mat take shots of the stunned expression on your face, “Stupid?” you repeat what he said, your eyes already starting to sting with tears. Clearly, you were far too overwhelmed to even acknowledge Mathew’s half-assed apology.

“You’re a fucking asshole.” your words bite and that’s when things took a turn for the worse.

“I said I was fucking sorry! What the hell do you want from me? Shit a fucking hanky?” he rans a hand through his hair, “Do you realize how childish you’re being right now?”

Outraged, and perhaps disappointed by how he was too high up his horse, your voice takes up a higher tone, entering what seems to be an early screaming match between you and Mathew.

“Could you just–” you breathe, “for one second– stop being so goddamn stupid and get over yourself!?” were words that welcomed Anthony the moment he stepped into the kitchen, towel wrapped around his waist, a grin on his face visible as he poured himself a glass of water, inviting himself in the screaming match you and Mathew have exclusively put forth for him.

“Stupid is not when you’ve already apologized a hundred times! Stupid is being such a crybaby and a bitch about it!” Mathew retorts, gaining his better end of the argument.

“What a beautiful morning, isn’t it?” Anthony chimes in, a hand resting on his chin, adoring his two best friends upon getting used to the best worst duo he’s ever known in his life.

“Shut up, Beau.” you say, throwing him a glare.

“Well, beautiful is definitely not in Y/N’s dictionary.” Mathew chides with a smirk, enough to earn himself a scoff from you.

“You know what? I don’t have the time for this bullshit.” you cuss, finally retreating, your already heavy heart taking a better hold on your thoughts, blocking your ability to even come up with a clever remark to come back at Mathew.

You throw the delicate, yet already ruined piece of fabric towards his way as hard as you could before marching out of the kitchen and head off for work.

“Fucking unbelievable.” Mathew curses under his breath once he catches the silk linen, shaking his head as he turns his attention back to the morning task at hand.

You were fucking unbelievable.

Once the boys were left alone, Tito raises a brow, briefly looking back after your footsteps, “What happened here, anyway?” he asks, having realized what must’ve caused such a heated argument so early in the morning.

“I used this handkerchief to wipe the whole thing off and she just went ape shit! I mean–” Anthony cuts Mathew the moment he recognizes the thin cloth he was holding.

“Woah, woah. Wait a minute, you used this?” he muses, stressing on the possibility of what might have been Mathew’s biggest mistake of the day, his eyes darting between him and the fabric.

With furrowed brows, admittedly weirded by how Anthony reacted almost the same way you did a while ago. “It’s just a handkerchief, man. I can go buy her a bunch if that’s what she wants.” he says defensively.

Anthony shakes his head wildly, his irises now dilated as he examined the stain already sitting on the material. “No no. Oh god no.” He says, snatching Mathew’s phone from the counter to google quick remedies that might remove the said stain from the already ruined cloth.

“What do you mean no? You guys spend way too much time together, you’re beginning to be as weird as her.” He scoffs, sipping on a glass of water.

“No, you dumbass. This was her grandma’s!” Anthony says, eyes fixated on the delicate handkerchief. Remembering how you’d told him how long it has been in your family that having Nana give it to you after all the years you’ve spent admiring it from afar meant so much to you than anything anyone could have possibly given you.

“So?” Mat casually replies, closing his arms to his chest before adding, “Is she dead or something? Didn’t you guys visit her for the Holidays?”

“What?? Why would you even say that?– You’re such a jerk.” Tito shakes his head, appalled by how Mathew easily shrugged the matter off when he knew full well how sentimental he himself could be.

“Well, how am I supposed to know?? If that thing’s so important I wouldn’t leave it on top of some random shit lying around!” He counters, defending himself for reaching for the nearest cloth he could find when he did whatever he does best when he’s in the kitchen.

Tito clicks his tongue and looks at Mathew exasperatedly, “Tell me, where did you find this exactly?”, to which Mathew only answered with a quiet voice, “It may or may not have been placed on top of her purse…” he avoids Tito’s gaze, finally catching on how he was the one in the wrong.

“See? Jerk. Now, go figure out how you’ll take the stain off.” Anthony demands, his voice embraced by a definitive tone. One that made Mathew know he wouldn’t be able to persuade him into letting this go.

Tito takes one good look at Mat’s catastrophic attempt to feed the house, striding his way out of the kitchen, “And make sure you apologize!” he adds, footsteps receding into the hallway, leaving Mathew scratching the back of his head out of guilt and frustration.

You have spent the following days either avoiding Mathew or ignoring his existence completely. Anthony talked to you the night that incident happened and assured you that he would do his best to have it fixed. You didn’t want to bother him nor take time off his already busy schedule, but you were just so bummed to even say a word.

That night, you spent the entire evening in your room, facetiming your mother, saying how much you’re missing home. You can’t bring yourself to tell her about the handkerchief. For some people, and that people being Mathew, it might’ve been just some silly thing but Tito knew how much that small piece of cloth meant to you.

Mathew, on the one hand, was for sure guilty to his bones. He didn’t see you that night nor the nights that followed. He didn’t think much of it but when he found himself searching for that same handkerchief in the hopes of replacing it only to find out that it was nowhere to be found in the market, was when he did realize that ruining the one thing that held you closer to home was the last push your non-existent relationship with him had to have for you to finally lose any ounce of amour nor civility you once had for him.

Anthony wasn’t a stranger for said changes either. He began waking up to a still apartment enveloped by a wall you profusely built between you and Mathew. You even unknowingly shut Tito out in the process as well. It was like you were grieving. Like, it was a whole different kind of heartbreak he knew he can’t get you out of that easily.

You tried making it up for your best friend of course. Knowing that you haven’t been yourself since that day. You thought about the possibility of having taken the whole thing too seriously that you might’ve overreacted a bit. Nonetheless, no matter how much you try to push it in the back of your head, Mathew’s mere presence began irking you in ways it never did back when you used to enjoy the bickering you exchange with him, especially in bed.

“Thanks for dinner, belle.” Anthony politely says, earning a smile from you so effortlessly upon hearing the pet name he uses for you. Something Mat only shrugged off, trying to piece out the same gratitude, “Thanks, y/n.” he genuinely adds. But as expected, he had nothing.

You pick up all the empty plates, including Mathew’s, who was sitting in front of you while Anthony sat at the end of the table. Tito hurriedly wipes his mouth with a napkin and takes the plate from you, “Let me help you with that.” he says with the same kind eyes that has never failed to win you over.

“Yeah. Okay, sure.” you shortly answer, leading the way towards the kitchen, leaving one Mathew Barzal feeling small and alone at the dining table.

𖥸

If there was one thing you’d gladly acknowledge after all the years of watching people kiss Mathew’s ass was that he was is really good. He’s fast and he can do unimaginable damage on the ice. There’s no denying that he deserves to be the face of the New York Islanders. But we know you don’t care about any of that. The only thing you care about was how unbelievably good he is at everything he does that not even you or your pink rubber toy could suffice.

He was just that damn good.

As your eyes shut whilst you mount your pleasures on your own, biting your lips to choke in your own moans, Mathew handling you was what circled your mind since you started defiling yourself in the bathroom. You let your arousal be washed away by the warm water trickling down your skin, envisioning Mat’s rough hands grazing your body, touching your core like his hands were meant to do nothing else but that.

It was wrong and pathetic, but you couldn’t think about anything else. You and Mathew have been avoiding each other for days. The dynamic went so much worse than when you weren’t sleeping together and you know that Tito was bound to notice it soon. Thankfully, the boys were on another roadie for a week so you had quite some time to think things through about your current sitch with Mathew. You didn’t like any of it because it felt like you gave a fuck (which obviously, you didn’t). You just feel obligated to sort things out with the biggest ass that ever lived because you didn’t want to involve Tito into the mess you’ve wrongfully made yourself.

You hop off the shower feeling unsatisfied. You haven’t gotten laid since the last time you were with Mat. Which is sad, not just for you but also for her. You’d think considering the boys aren’t around you’d bring someone home, maybe even one or two. But just thinking about going on bars alone so you could find a potential bone-mate is already far too tedious and you weren’t in the right state to do so. You had so much going on at work, anyway. And you can always use a wand to scratch an itch. Neither would satisfy you more than how someone-who-will-not-be-named could, but you might as well be pathetic without having to hook up with some random dude whose name you’ll eventually forget in the morning.

You opted to wear an old pull-over you borrowed (took) from Tito years and years ago and partnered it with some leggings so you’d be comfortable enough for the rest of the night. You have nothing else to do and you are already fed up with your workload that watching a crappy movie off of Netflix doesn’t sound like a bad idea.

With a giant bowl of popcorn and two bottles of beer in your hands, you march your way into the living room, ready to spend the night binge watching romantic comedies, crying and laughing in between. Or maybe just fall asleep on the couch while your comfort TV series is on.

The boys won three games out of the four that they had during the trip and you only saw the ones they won so you were thankful that you didn’t have to sit at home alone watching their faces fall after that OT lost against the Flyers. Anthony phoned you that night and you can just feel the relief in his voice that you didn’t have the time to see it. They weren’t playing like they should. Thankfully, they were able to bounce back.

Your eyes were beginning to grow tired halfway into the movie when you hear the front door open, followed by luggages dragged into the house tirelessly.

“Y/N?” Anthony calls out.

You hit the movie on pause and hurriedly make your way towards the hallway. “You’re home already?”

They were already taking their coats off when you met them halfway, Tito was putting his away while Mat had just taken off his toque and was running his hands through his hair, unconsciously meeting your eyes upon hearing your voice.

You quickly break it off when you give Tito a quick embrace and plant a small kiss on his cheeks, “I texted you.” he says, eyebrows quirked, surprised that you didn’t know.

In an effort to avert any more of his questions you immediately point towards the movie you had on, “Haven’t checked my messages, sorry.”

“So, you guys ate dinner?” you ask, passing Mat a quick look. One that came as a surprise because he wasn’t even hoping to hear a word from you given the way you two left things a little too on the edge, screwing with the whole thing even more.

Mat avoids your irises and faintly nods.

“Big win tonight huh? Told you, you can do it.” you say with a beaming smile, nudging Tito with your hips as you get back to watching your film. “You gotta do what you gotta do, babe.” he winks, lugging his stuff around towards his bedroom.

“Barz, don’t stay up, Trotz needs us first thing in the morning.” he looks back, reminding Mat who was already standing in front of his door, “Yeah. Sure.” he replies shortly with a tired voice.

You and Anthony bid your own goodnights whilst Mat mutters a quiet “Night.” when you nodded his way, clearly not enjoying any of the first awkward encounters he’s yet to have with you. Seven days is quite a reasonable time for your anger to dissipate, a short yet seemingly long period of time that’s just enough to kill off whatever guilt Mat had initially felt before you parted ways.

𖥸

“Alright, I’m off.” Tito casually declares, putting on his watch. “There’s food in the fridge, and tell Mat to go easy on my beers.” he gives you a knowing look as he bends down to give you a kiss on the cheek.

Tito had been seeing some mystery girl for quite some time now. He hasn’t told you anything spicy in particular but by the looks of it, you could already tell that she has him towed.

“Good luck, loverboy.” you say, swatting his hand away and pushing him out to the door. The two of you cringe at what you said, sharing one last laugh before you watch him disappear out into the hallway.

The apartment was cramped the whole day because Anthony and Mat had the day off. Tito had plans for the night, obviously. As per you, you had plans lounging in the living room, switching through channels in the hopes of stumbling on a show that isn’t half as bad than the rest.

Thankfully, a Sandra Bullock film was on HBO.

The Proposal, to be exact.

You decide to dive in the film with a cold bottle of beer on your hand. There was no way you’d be washing down the effects of a naked Ryan Reynolds with a glass of water. You haven’t gone mad.

The film was already at the part where Sandra was proposing to Ryan when you hear Mathew’s door open. You haven’t talked since the night they came back home other than the small nods you exchange upon passing by each other. All of which are mind-numbing and impossible to swallow. The awkwardness has not dissipated completely unlike what you presumed. You were just grateful Tito was always around that you didn’t need to be alone together.

Alarmed by another impending awkward encounter, you clear your throat and turn up the volume a little to remain focused on the film, investing your sole attention to it even if you have seen the movie countless times.

Mathew, in his sweats and a gray shirt on, carefully makes his way out the hallway and into the common area after snatching a glass of water from the kitchen. You see him move further into the room but you make sure that he knows you weren’t paying attention. You take that he must’ve been thirsty and needed a drink but you don’t see him move further in the corner of your eye like he was making his way back in his room. It almost seemed like he was actually waiting for you to look his way.

Hesitantly, you follow your gut feel and see him standing a few feet away from you. “Yes?” you ask when you catch him staring.

Mat blinks a few times, “Hi.” he takes a deep breath, trying to shake off the awkwardness circling the two of you.

When the only thing he gets from you is a tight lipped smile, he shakes his head and proceeds to walk where you were seated.

“Mind if I join you?” he asks, his voice deep and clear enough to send your mind elsewhere.

Regardless, you contain yourself and return a polite smile, “No. Not at all.”

“So, what are we watching?” he sits once you gestured onto the other end of the couch.

“The Proposal.” you answer before throwing a question yourself, “Aren’t you supposed to be resting now?” you shake your head, absentmindedly chuckling. Not intending to make him feel that you’ve forgotten about what he’d done weeks ago.

“I couldn’t sleep.” he props his back and lets himself sink in the cloud couch, his legs spread wide eating up most of the space left for the two of you to share. “Oh. I only like him when he’s Deadpool” he points out, cringing at how you were watching another one of your romantic comedy films.

You roll your eyes, admiring how he’s trying to break the tension between the two of you despite his unsolicited sentiments, “I like it when we were on not-speaking terms.”

Mat mocks you for a while but decides to watch the movie so you let him be and get back to the film, letting a giggle slip every now and then. Something you thought Mat wouldn’t notice.

Watching the remainder of the film went with ease. ‘Course, Mat would steal a few glances here and there (ones he thought had gone unnoticed), but overall the quietude between the two of you was bearable. Almost like it was just two buddies hanging out.

Although, not long after, your eyes were torn away from the huge flat screen when Mat spoke, “By the way,” he looks at you and calls your attention.

Puzzled, you watch him take something from his pocket, “Here.”

Once you see what he has in his hands your heart froze. Mat carefully hands you the cloth with an apologetic smile; his eyes soft with a hint of hope as he watches your reaction.

“What– How?” you ask in bewilderment, failing to comprehend how he was able to fix the handkerchief. It looked the same as before. All of its details were in place, it was good as new. You were holding Nana’s handkerchief.

Mathew didn’t bother to dance around and just offered you a quiet chuckle, evidently enjoying the wide smile painted on your lips. “Don’t worry about it. I just wanted to say that I’m sorry.” he apologizes, shielding you from all the strings he had to pull just to get that cloth fixed up.

You hold the smooth and delicate piece in your hands as you look at Mat, letting your feelings get a better hold of you, “Thank you.” you say, unknowingly reaching out, your arms wrapped around his neck as you give him a quick peck on the cheek.

Mathew’s hand instinctively finds your back to support you, startling himself in the process. Nonetheless, the thought was easily shrugged off by how close your faces were, your smiles fading once you meet each other’s gaze. You feel the same rush you felt the night you and Mat got involved for the first time. Your hand was placed rather endearingly on his cheek, your faces, just like all the other times, unreasonably close to each other. Mat then clears his throat and only looks you in the eye.

Afraid that the innocent hug would lead to something more, perhaps another mistake to be jotted down on the board, you breathe a laugh and break away, “Uh, thanks again. It really means a lot.”

Mat must’ve sensed that you were being cautious so he puts his guards up and returns a chuckle, “So… we good?” he asks, reaching out a hand your way.

Your fingers slide into his, gliding its way perfectly, your hands fitted well with his despite the obvious difference in proportion. His grip tightens in the most comfortable way possible.

A smile breaks off his lips once he hears you answer, “We’re good.”

“I should probably get some sleep.” Mat tells you the moment you pull your hand away.

“Are you gonna be okay here?” he adds.

You looked at him, not wanting him to be obligated to keep you company, “Oh, yeah. I’m a big girl.” you say, making Mathew grin, shaking his head.

“Alright. I’ll be in my room if you need anything.”

Not picking up on whatever sloppy insinuation Mat has thrown out carelessly into thin air, he hears a simple “Mkay.”

Thus far, letting him know that his subtle invitation was far from being RSVP’d.

𖥸

“You’ll be in your room?” Mat scoffs, staring at the ceiling while he lays on his bed, “The fuck was that, Mat?” he scolds himself for always coming up with the worst things to say.

Mathew would be lying if he’d say he hasn’t thought about you (or doing you) for the past week of not being around home. But he definitely wouldn’t deny that the roadie kind of made things easier for him because then he didn’t have to stomach seeing you walk around the flat looking like the hot piece of ass that you were in his eyes.

Mat knows he needs to pull his shit together. He wasn’t some 13 year-old boy raging with hormones. He needs to control himself around you and he could only do that once he learns how to push this whole thing between the two of you behind him.

What happened with you and Mathew shouldn’t have happened at all. It was just a moment of weakness, and he hated that he’d let his dick (and apparently, him being one) ruin the relationship he once had with you.

Before that night, seeing you do yoga and work out on the terrace was just seeing you drenched in sweat, and in your work out clothes looking icky and constipated. Something he’ll later on tease you about and he’ll end up catching the water bottle you throw in his face. But now, after all that fucking, seeing you sweaty and all worked out in the same yoga pants is just like walking into a porn commercial. Like the ones they show before the actual porn. In fact, he doesn’t even have to watch any of it. Tents and Boners were pretty much sponsored by you from then on. It’s sick, and he knows it.

However, the tension he feels with you is palpable that he’s even certain that you feel it too. But how can he be wrong? He sees how your eyes blink a few times when he’s fresh out the shower, he sees you follow his trance when you thought he wasn’t paying attention, and you never fail to slide him shadowed hints with every touch you “accidentally” pass at him. The kind that’s short enough to remain innocent but not so much as to keep him at bay. Mat hated everything about it. He hated that he wanted you– and he hated that he thinks he might be right about you wanting him too.

All that self-loathing aside, did he regret it?

That was one of the things he feels bad about. Because as much as he wants to lie and push it aside, he didn’t regret any of it. He didn’t like you that way and just thought about you sexually but he just wishes that you could push past this and just be friends. He was still sexually attracted to you, yes. But he knows he’d eventually get over it and be back on his game. That is if he can ever find someone who’d be as good as how you were the last three times you’ve let him be with you because it would really help him a lot if he could stop picturing your mouth getting stretched by his cock every time he hops into the shower.

Mat was pulled from his thoughts when he heard a knock on his door. The shy banging sound made his heart beat rapidly in an instant, knowing full well that the two of you were alone in the house and that Tito was, in no way, going to be home for another hour or two.

A faint knock follows the first one before he gets to the door.

“Hi.” you greet him, a moment unfolding like it was déjà-vu.

“Hi.”

“Did I wake you?” you sheepishly ask, your hands balled into fists before eventually settling down to hug your own build, unsure of where to put your hands exactly.

Mat quickly shakes his head, “No. I couldn’t sleep myself.”

You offer him a smile, acknowledging how he’s been nothing but good to you ever since they got home. Of course you wanted to get your hands on him being that you were completely dry and horny ever since you’ve ignored him completely, but you haven’t gone mad and you weren’t a complete neanderthal. You can keep your hands to yourself and act like a decent human being.

“I’m sorry for making things weird between us.” you say, your eyes heavy with guilt. “But I’m only apologizing for being so unreasonable for the last couple of weeks.” you reiterated.

To which he only answers with, “You shouldn’t be. You have every right to be unreasonable– and I know that I’ve been a giant prick that day. It’s what I deserve.” he bites his lower lip, scratching his brow as he continues, “That’s why if there’s someone who owes someone an apology, it should be me. What I did was pretty crappy, so… I’m sorry.”

Like all the other times, Mathew towers over you wearing the same confidence he does when you’re around. Your bodies were reasonably apart from each other but close enough to mean something else if someone had walked by. Mathew was still in his room while you were out in the hallway, separated by the thin line made by the door frame.

You feel Mat’s steady breathing and everything went still. He looks down at you, pretty eyes drowning yours. His messed up bed hair ridiculously makes up for how dressed down he was. No, actually, he looks fine even when he is. And all of that sight instantly makes your throat dry as you feel something curl in your belly, enough to make your hands sweaty as the thought of tasting his lips again cruised your mind entirely.

Mathew was no stranger to the said feeling either. He watched you punish him more at how plump and inviting your lips were. Or how your hand brushed on your clothes as you remain uncomposed under his gaze.

Mat was becoming accustomed to how the two of you meet. Same time, same place, only this time, a different hallway. He steps further and crosses the line that divides the two of you, making you take a deep breath as his scent floors every nerve in your body. Waking what has been awake ever since that moment you shared back in the living room even more.

“Yeah, okay.” you gather yourself, “I– I should probably head back.”

Just by how his shoulders dropped, you knew you had said the wrong thing. And you hated that you did. Mat clears his voice and swallows, breaking off his gaze, “You probably should.”

“Good night, Mat.” you smile, trying to regain yourself.

“Good night.” he replies as he watches you turn your back before finally closing the door behind him.

Frustrated for he was already starting to feel things more than just being “sorry”, Mat leans against the door and runs a hand through his hair. He takes a deep breath and tries to get you out of his head.

He was about to walk away from the door and sleep off his frustration when he hears your faint footsteps on the other side of the door. He rests his head back on the wooden surface and sighs, “You’re still out there, aren’t you?”

There was a total silence for a moment, devoid of the knowledge of how you had your fist, ready to knock yet again, suspended in mid-air.

Mathew hears you deny sheepishly, “No.”

You hear him let out a small laugh, knowing that he was trying to contain himself.

The door sprung open again, and for a second you thought how what you’re about to walk into will start another mess for you and Mathew. But how could you possibly think about it that way when you have nothing else but this man standing at the other end?

A friend that took no seconds to waste as he finally lets his thirst and perhaps foolishness, get the better hold of him once he cages your heated face in his hands, crashing into your lips as fast as he’d taken you to his end of that thin gray line that has once irkingly parted him from you. A gray line you’re both willing to cross if that meant sharing another night in between halls and thin walls.

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