#I’m trying new things with colors and brushes to loose work pressure

[hoarthsoyriz]

Long die the king~

[kimnjss]

just hanging out | jjk

⤑  series: cherry pickers

⤑ pairing: gamer(fuckboi)!jungkook x video vixen(virgin)!reader

⤑ genre: fluff!... some angst at the end if you squint.

⤑ rating: pg13

⤑ word count: 3.9K // unedited.

⤑ warnings: lmao second hand embarrassment probably.

⤑ A/N: hey :( love you all who have been enjoying this story nd sending your thoughts in - they really make my day. so thank youu! let me know what you think x 

FEBRUARY 22ND, 2020 | 16:49

Casual. You're constantly reminding yourself the entire time you're getting ready. This was supposed to be casual. This was not a date. So there was no reason for you to go through the process of getting ready for a date. You didn't shave, just took a regular shower with the regular soaps. 

Spent very little time in the mirror when getting dressed, there was no need for frilly shirts or form-fitting pants. Instead, you settled for a pair of ripped jeans and a hoodie that Taehyung had lost a little while back. Minimum makeup, hair up, and out of your face.

Needed to cement it in your mind that this was not a date. Steal away any reason for you to act like it was one. No matter how much you knew you'd enjoy the whole shebang, candlelit dinner, romantic walk admiring the night sky, kiss on the doorstep – you had to ignore that.

Bottle it up and stuff it down because there were many things you didn't know about Jungkook and the bits you did know weren't great. His shitty friends being at the top of the list. So, until you were sure he wasn't like the lot of them... not dates were what you'd settle for. Because at the end of the day, you wanted to see him.

It's a thirty-minute drive from your house to Jungkook's and you spend the entire car ride agonizing on how this 'not date' was going to turn out. And then immediately scolding yourself for freaking out over something that shouldn't matter as much as you were making it out to be.

For all you knew, he probably was just waking up... barely remembering that he had plans with you. Most likely hopping in the shower just minutes before you were said to arrive. Mmh, Jungkook in the shower. Droplets of water rolling over his tone skin, following the dips and ridges until...

It's hard to shake the image of Jungkook showering out of your head once you've got it there. Even with his insistent need to wear baggy clothes, it didn't take a detective to see that the kid was ripped. No doubt spent hours in the gym working on his arms, his abs, his thighs...

Nope. Not going there. No reason to go there when you were on your way to hang out, innocently hang out with a guy that you were just barely friends with. That's all it was. Two people getting to know each other after clicking the first time they talked. God, the way you clicked with Jungkook was unbelievable. 

He made you laugh. And it was weird because you don't remember ever feeling this comfortable around someone this quickly. Jungkook was different. At least you hoped he was. Instantly, you're shushing your thoughts. Refusing to mentally put so much pressure on something that more than likely become nothing.

Getting your hopes up too early was the reason why people got hurt in the first place. So this wasn't a date. And you weren't going to expect him to treat it as such. Just hanging out to get to know each other. That was it.

That was it. Your new mantra as you shove your car into park, heading up the walkway to his front door. Knocking while repeating those four words to yourself. Casual. That was it.

You're not even waiting a full minute before the front door is being pulled open, revealing a fresh-looking Jungkook. Dark hair falling in pretty waves, on either side of his pretty face. He seems to be glowing and you feel it throughout your entire body when he smiles.

A baggy pink sweatshirt swallows his figure, paired with equally loose gray sweatpants. His house is spotless when he lets you in, obvious that he spent the duration of the morning cleaning. The smell of Lysol still lingered in the air. Even the white socks on his feet seemed oddly clean.

You can't help but smile at the effort, allowing yourself to believe that all the trouble was for you.

Once he's setting your shoes in his extremely organized coat closet, he's leading you through the house. Smiling big as he gives you a mini-tour of the first floor and you swear you're paying attention. You're trying your best at least, but it's hard to concentrate on anything that wasn't how cute he looked.

“And this is the arcade,” He's showing off both rows of teeth with his broad gesture into the room located at the end of the hall. Obviously proud of this part of the tour.

As he should be. When the kid said arcade, that's exactly what he meant. Old school game machines lined the walls, ones that you'd actually find in an arcade. Some games that you've never heard of before. All with the high score name: 'Koo'. A dramatic two-person car racing game tucked in the corner.

There's a curved 90 inch TV mounted on the wall, in front of it on a stand is every game console ever made. He has his laptop set up in the room, with two monitors and two gaming chairs in front of it. In the middle of the room is the most comfortable L shaped couch.

All you can say is, “Whoa.” And he's laughing at your reaction.

“It's my favorite room in the house. Well... aside from,” His eyes shift up, obviously gesturing to upstairs where his bedroom is.

The insinuation has a blush darkening your cheeks, but you choose to ignore it, stepping further into the room with a tiny gasp. “You have Skee-ball!?” He's right behind you as you rush across to the room to where the game is set up. A manicured nail pressing against the start button, grinning wide up at him as the balls roll down.

Bright red numbers flash on the screen, the high score followed by his name: 310...Koo. A smirk instantly settling onto your features as you reach for one of the bright-colored balls. “I'm gonna beat that,” Lifting a finger to point at the numbers on the screen.

Jungkook is letting a loud laugh leave his lips, a pretty smile settling on his features as the sound dies down. “That took me two weeks... good luck,” Drawing your hand back, you release the ball on the swing. Watching as it travels upward toward the slots, dropping right into the gutter.

It takes four throws before you're getting it right, the ball traveling up the slope and directly into the 40 point slot. You're letting out a loud whoop, arms lifting in slight victory.

Eyes wide, you're turning your head to face him. “You saw that!?” You're shocked that he's already looking at you. With this soft lovey look that you were the one to hang the stars in the sky. And it makes you wish that this was a date because if it were you'd be able to let yourself enjoy the feeling that comes with the way that he's looking at you.

But it's not a date. So you don't. Shove the fuzzy feeling away with a shake of your head, reaching for another ball from the rack and thrusting it forward. 

FEBRUARY 22ND, 2020 | 18:08

Jungkook is scary good at games. Like scary good. If he wasn't matching your score, he was doubling it. Didn't even graze his high score in Skee-ball and every game after that was his domain. And he was having fun beating you, the smile growing on his face each time you were crossing your arms with a pout – claiming the game had to be rigged.

Foosball to Car Racing to Dance Dance Revolution (he had way more rhythm than you'd expect). You've settled down quite a bit since you first showed up at his house, finding it easy to relax around him. He was cute when he got competitive, not like you were much of a competition in these games... but it was nice to see him like this.

The scrunch of his nose as he focused on the screen. The cute dimples that popped out whenever he won. And how he mindlessly sat close to you, engulfing you in his sweet scent. There was just something about being with Jungkook that made you feel at ease, could someone who made you that comfortable really be as bad as his trash friends?

His shoulder brushes against yours as he settles further into the comfort of his couch, his thumbs moving over the controller quickly. Implementing combo after to defeat your character. In the fourth round of Mortal Kombat and you've only one once.

“Hey! You said you'd let me win,” He's laughing, not even letting your character get up before the large K.O. letters appear on the screen and his person is giving their little victory remark. A dramatic huff leaves your lips, the controller being tossed to the side to cross your arms over your chest.

All he wants to do is lean in and kiss that pout off your lips. Has wanted to kiss you since he beat you in table tennis. You're so pretty and he can't hold back from moving closer to you, guiding your movements just so he can have an excuse to touch you. And he doesn't miss the way you blush. The cute giggles that you let out when he flirts with you. Making him want to flirt with you more just so he can hear the sound.

“I tried,” He speaks through a laugh, taking in the skeptical look on your face. “I did! You're just so bad,” His eyes watch your fingers move around the controller, switching the screen to the character choice.

Gasping when his words sink in, landing dainty punches onto his shoulder. “You're mean! Rematch. I'm not bad,” Jungkook's pressing start on the game as soon as you both have picked your characters, leaning back against the couch as he instantly starts trying out combos on you.

Your whines and protests are cute. It's all he can focus on when he's supposed to be paying attention to the game. And the shout of triumph you let out when you're managing to knock his character down squeezes at his heart, he can't help but turn to look at the smile on your face.

“Look at you losing!” He's sure his health bar is at the end by now, but he can't tear his eyes away from you. In awe, because how could someone actually look like that? So effortlessly... beautiful? 

The tip of your tongue poked out the corner of your lips, brows furrowed as you work hard to take him down. So wrapped in the game, you don't even realize that he had stopped playing. It's his luck too, no telling how embarrassed he'd be if he was caught staring. Yet, he can't bring himself to look away.

Not until you're jumping up excited, clapping for yourself and your win. “Did you see that?” Your body is whipping around, forcing a surprised look on his face. Worried that you might've caught the way he had been looking at you. “I just fucking destroyed you! You can't even say that was beginners luck, either.”

You're lifting your hand for a high five, which he's happily giving to you. His smile matching yours as you flop down on the couch beside him, thighs grazing over each other and he feels it in his chest. “Do you want a chance to redeem yourself?”

Not even a minute is spared for him to answer because you're already starting up a new round. He's got his game face on now, shaking himself out of the daze. “Can you believe I just kicked your butt?” There's this taunting look on your face and all he wants to do is lean over and kiss you.

He takes for teasing you instead. Noticing your ridge posture that he had commented on in your picture. “I don't know how,” A large hand reaches over to touch your back, your body automatically leaning into his touch. “Your form is all off, it had to be luck.” Just a bit of pressure is applying to your back and you're slouching forward.

With a laugh, you're rolling your eyes – reaching a hand back to swat his away. “Watch me beat you like this too. I'll even let you pick my character,” You've been using the same girl since you started playing while he's surfed through the entire catalog. He's taking you up on the offer, picking one of the bulkier characters that don't do all the jump moves you seem to love so much.

And you still beat him.

This time distracted by the frustrated rants from you whenever your guy doesn't do what you tell him to. Time runs out and he ends up having less on his health bar and you're taking that as a proper win, lifting your hand for another high five.

Jungkook congratulates you quietly, more so trying to figure out just what was going on inside his chest. He's had girls over before. In much more intimate settings than this... but never has he felt like his heart was about to burst through his chest. This unbearable feeling to be close to you and it's quickly becoming all he can think about.

You're just so pretty. And you look oddly sexy in your sweats. But it's not just that. There's something else that he can't really place that's pulling him to you. Making it hard for him to stop thinking about stupid things like holding your hand or kissing your cheek. Imagining if days like today were the norm and after he'd grow tired of playing games, you'd let him stretch out his head in your lap – playing with his hair.

And it has to be crazy because this was only the first time the two of you were alone. The late-night texts being all he had to back up knowing you, but at the same time, he felt like he knew you. Like he's known you well. He can't describe it either, but he's almost positive that you feel the same.

“Are you hungry? Should we order a pizza?” You've already whipped your phone out, reluctantly putting a bit of space between the two of you as you scroll through your phone. Jungkook is quick to agree, fingers moving over the buttons on the controller to switch the TV.

No idea why he all of a sudden feels so nervous. “Sure,” He's managing to mumble out, but you're not listening. Already putting together a pizza for both of you. “Do you, uhm... do you wanna watch a movie? Something on Netflix?” Your thumb is stilling on the screen at the mention of Netflix.

Yoongi's playful warning ringing loudly in your mind. 'Playing video games was just Netflix and Chill with more steps,'. But there was the chance that he was actually tired of playing games and wanted to watch a movie with you. It didn't have to be that serious, you had been going at it for hours.

“Yeah, go ahead. Pick something.” His body slouches back on the cushions, scanning through the movies halfheartedly before choosing a random one with a really long title. After tapping his fingers against the screen, the neon orange lights in the room are dimming. A comfortable warmth settling around you.

Jungkook watches as you take your time putting the order together. The beginning credits playing on the screen and he's not even paying attention, too busy with his eyes glued to you. “I got meat lovers, you like that, right?” Setting your phone aside, you allow yourself to sink into the comfort of the cushions. 

“Mmh, my favorite.” Not a lie. It really was. And the fact that you had chose it without knowing just added to everything about you that made him want to kiss you. A small smile spreads across your lips as you nod, turning your attention to the screen in front of you.

The two of you sit side by side, watching the characters on the screen, but you're not listening. It's hard to hear over the pounding in your chest. The nervous bounce of his leg as if he was waiting for something. And you have no idea what because the pizza is no where near being on its way.

A pretty girl is in an argument with her male lead, something about debt and you're trying your hardest to follow the storyline. Although, you have no idea what this movie is and why he picked it. 

It's the thick yawn from beside you that catches your attention, Jungkook's arms lifting over his head in a stretch. You don't think much of it, other than the fact that he's being a little dramatic with his stretch. Until the arm closest to you is dropping down, not at his side like it had been before but around your shoulders – gently tugging your body into his side.

“Did you just do the yawn move on me?” You can't help but laugh. Even through the darkness, you can see the pink tint on his cheeks. “Shh, this is my favorite part.” You're actually positive that he's never seen this movie before, but don't put up a fight. Instead, you let yourself lean into his chest.

He's warm. And smells like flowers. His eyes don't move from the screen as he's reaching down, soft hands reaching for the outside of your knee. Slowly, he's lifting your legs onto his lap, only glancing in your direction briefly to gauge your reaction. Leaning back when there's no sign of you wanting to move.

“Your feet are so small,” Toes curling at the random attention, you're leaning over to reach for his face attempting to pull his focus. “Don't make fun of them! What the heck?” He's laughing loudly at you, allowing you to move his head. Shifting his focus from your feet to his face.

Your fingers are cold against his warm skin, but he can't keep himself from leaning into your touch. “They're cute.” Big eyes scan over your face, smiling softly when they're landing on yours. “You're cute.”

Almost instantly, the atmosphere in the room seems to shift. And you're not sure how he did it, but the way he was looking at you, the soft whisper in his voice... you can't but melt in his strong arms. Basically sat in his lap and it's nice. Jungkook takes his time with inching forward, entering your space which has your hand falling from his face.

He's quick to replace your hand with his one your cheek, tilting your head up toward his. You're sure he's going to kiss you. It's obvious with the slight pucker of his lips, the droop of his eyes, he's tapping a rhythmic beat against your knee ten times faster than the rush of your heart. He was going to kiss you.

Jungkook was going to kiss you and it felt like you couldn't breathe. Nerves on a ten because this wasn't even supposed to be a date. And now you were in this situation and you weren't the least bit unhappy about it. You wanted him to kiss you and it's a new feeling that you don't fully understand. It freaks you out.

Just inches from your lips and your face is twisting up, head jerking back before he can reach you. “What are you doing?” Instantly hating yourself for the embarrassed look on his features that slowly morphs into a puppy dog pout.

“I was going to kiss you...” Jungkook mumbles out sheepishly, dropping his arm from your body to push his hair back. Making an effort to put some space between the two of you, trying to figure out where he had gone wrong.

Because in his mind he had done everything right. Had been making you laugh all night, set some type of mood, told you that you were cute. And you seemed to be enjoying yourself... so what was he missing?

“Why would you do that? This isn't a date, Jungkook.” The mantra that you thought you had worked into your head seemed to be slipping. Not sure when you had forgotten what this was supposed to be, but now it was all rushing back to you.

The reasons you had rejected going on an actual date with him in the first place. And the realization of how stupid you were to think that this was a proper substitute for it. No matter what you decided to call it, it didn't erase the fact that this... tonight, with him... felt like a date.

And it wasn't supposed to.

“Do you kiss all the people you just hang out with?” It's wrong to put the blame on him and only him, but you can't help it. You're a mess in your head for a plethora of reasons, because it had been obvious. How he was looking at you, his arm around you, your legs in his lap... everything that you decided to ignore.

But in the same breath, he told you this wasn't a date... so why bother with all sweet shit. Turning movies on for one reason. Maybe you were reading too deep into all of this? Maybe you were overreacting. Jungkook didn't act like his friends when he was with you, maybe he was really different.

“Oh, come on, Yn... are you being serious?” He doesn't look all too embarrassed anymore, just a little bit sad from the rejection. It's fine, though. He'll live. “Dead serious, Jungkook. You got me here saying this wasn't a date. You need to stick to that,” You felt strongly on that part.

You had told him you didn't want to go on a date with him and even though this 'not date' was literally the same thing, he shouldn't act as if you had said yes to a date. Right? He should keep his word, that way things wouldn't get messy. Like right now.

Jungkook seems to put it together in his head, nodding his head in agreement – yet, the pout doesn't leave his lips. “Alright, alright. Fine. My bad,” He's tugging at the rolls of fabric on his sweats, avoiding eye contact with you. Dark hair covering his eyes, all you can really see is the pink of his lower lip.

And you feel bad, even though you know you shouldn't. It's not like you would've hated kissing him. It was just too nerve-racking to think of doing right now. You didn't quite understand it yourself, so there was no way you could go and explain it to him.

Instead, you're extending a finger. Poking the tip of your nail into his knee. “Don't pout. Come on, you'll miss the best part.” Referring to the movie that you're both watching for the first time, but it has a smile pushing onto his lips. His head lifting and gaze shifting onto the TV screen.

“Sorry,” He mumbles out after a moment, but you're not sure if he's apologizing for the almost-kiss or something else. Either way, you're flashing a genuine smile in his direction, lifting a hand to playfully shove at his shoulder. “Don't worry about it. It's fine,”

It really was.

— known for your body and surrounded by rumors about your sex life… rumors that he doesn’t think to doubt. until he’s meeting you… forced to realize there’s much more to you then the thonged shorts and lacy costumes.

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A/N: timestamps make sense throughout the fic. if u want to be added to the tag list, send me an ask! + if you’ve asked to be on my permanent taglist, you do not need to ask to be added to this one !!

[shorkbrian]

heyyy, i wanted to tell you that i love your writings and that you encouraged me to start writing myself. so thank you💕💕💕 I wanted to ask if you could write something about bakugou being your upper classman and eventhough hes mean to others he is nice to you, being all possessive and protective of you? you think its nice, calling him senpai and always looking up to him. hes your idol, you trust him with your life. so of course youll let him stay the night over. he pressures you into (1/3)

glad you’re writing! Writing is so fun, and even if you think it’s bad, you’ve still created something, be proud!!

Warnings - degradation, NSFW, dub con, abuse of trust & power. Manipulation, uhm Bakugou being a jerk.... what's new lol.

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“Katsu... ‘m tired, wanna sleep.” You mumble, eyes fluttering shut again.

“No, no sleeping until I say. Don’t you want to make me happy? C’mon, I fucking know you do.”

He’s pushing at your body, jostling your shoulder while you lay on your side, eyelids heavy. You had agreed to let your senpai spend the night - Bakugou had said something about wanting to get out of his house for a bit, and you’d eagerly volunteered your own place.

The original plan was to let him have the bed, and you could sleep on the couch. You’d do anything for Bakugou, for the fiery blonde that hurled insults and spit curse words more than he breathed. 

Those harsh words were never directed at you though, not since he’d found you crying on the first day of school because some dumb freshman had flipped your skirt up in the cafeteria.

You’d burst into tears at the jeering laughs, scrambling to pull your skirt down to cover yourself before darting out of the cafeteria, tears rushing down your cheeks. Bakugou had found you curled in the corner at the bottom of the stairwell, sobbing your heart out in embarrassment and humiliation.

At first he’d sneered at you, opting to ignore the pathetic little girl that had gotten her panties exposed, but something made him pause as he strode by you.

Maybe it was the way your breath hitched on each quiet sob, or maybe it was the memory of your cheeks loosing color before bursting into a brilliant red. Perhaps it was the thought of how your ass had looked, the brief glimpse he had caught of your panties before you’d pushed your skirt back into place.

Whatever the reason, Bakugou had stopped, retraced his steps, sighing as he crouched down in front of you.

“Stop fucking crying, it’s annoying. That piece of shit just wanted a reaction from you.”

You had glared up at him, scrubbing at your eyes with your fists. 

Bakugou felt a bit taken aback when he locked eyes with you, your eyes clear and watery, the color of your iris vibrant and defined against your red, teary face.

“If it’ll make you stop crying, I’ll go beat his ass. Make the dumb fuck cry like a little baby.”

“Like how I’m crying?” You snorted derisively.

The blonde huffed, surprised that you weren’t shy of admitting your pathetic state. “Yeah, exactly like that.”

A tiny smile graced your lips, and Bakugou rose to his feet, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Now get up, go get to class. You’re gonna be late and you’ll get detention or some shit.”

Later that day, after the last bell had rung and all the students were filing out of their classrooms, a scuffle had broken out.

Bakugou had the freshman that had embarrassed you caught in a headlock, one hand reaching into his pants to give the poor kid a wedgie. The kid was swearing, yelping, trying to hit at the upper classman but failing. There was a group of kids surrounding the pair, some jeering, some looking on in disdain, others rushing off to find the principal.

When you came upon the scene, Bakugou’s eyes found your own, and he smirked, snapping the waistband of the freshman’s underwear against his skin, the sound making you flinch. That had to have hurt.

The blonde roughed him up a bit more, before letting him go, shoving him to the ground with a cackle before shouldering his own backpack, vacating the area before the principal arrived.

He was your hero.

Always watching out for you, scaring away bullies, making sure you remembered to “do your shitty homework”.

So if he wanted to come over for a bit? You let him. If he wanted someone to bring him cold water during football practice? You were there. Did Bakugou want an extra dessert after lunch? He could have yours, you didn’t mind.

“Wake up-” The words growled in your ear had your eyes fluttering open as you yawned.

“It’s lateeee-” You whined, reluctantly sitting up to face Katsuki.

The blonde had refused your offer of allowing him your bed and you sleeping on the couch, instead insisting that the two of you share your bed.

Currently, he was sitting up against the headboard, shirtless, bronzed skin on display. You kept your eyes averted, although you knew what you’d see if you looked.

Solid muscles hiding under smooth skin, indicative of hard work and dedication. Bakugou was proud of his body, and didn’t mind showing off.

“C’mon, I wanna fool around. Take off your shirt and come touch me.” His command was low, muttered, as if the blonde was tired too. The overeager hands pulling at the hem of your shirt betrayed his true feelings.

“No, Bakugo-”

“Call me Katsu, don’t make me ask again.”

You stumbled over your words as the blonde pushed up your shirt, ignoring how your hands were trying to tug the fabric back down. “Katsu, stop it please, I don’t want to do that with you.”

That made the blonde pause, a frown on his face. “Why not? Am I not fucking good enough for you? What the fuck.”

“No! No Katsu-” You scrambled now, trying desperately to appease him. “That’s not what I meant!”

“Good, cause this is happening. C’mere-” He was pulling you into his lap, his warm hands finally succeeding in pulling off your shirt, tugging it insistently over your head.

“Wait, don’t look! Give me my shirt back!” You whined, hands flying to cover your body from Bakugou’s heated gaze.

The blonde raised an eyebrow, before flinging your shirt across the room with a smirk. “Nah, don’t be shy. Fuck, look at those tits.” His eyes were on your chest now, as were his hands, batting yours away like an annoying mosquito so he could grope your soft flesh.

“Fuuuuuuck.”

You were bright red, squirming on his lap. What was he doing? “Um, Katsu, I don’t think we should..... I mean, this isn’t..... um..... um....”

You trailed off as he massaged your chest, rolling your nipples underneath his fingers, watching the dusky buds flatten and pop back up when he pressed on them. 

A little pinch to one of them has you squealing, Katsuki immediately slapping a hand over your mouth, his eyes dark and serious. “Shut the fuck up, you wanna wake up your parents? Dumb bitch, keep quiet.”

The words stung, made tears prickle in your eyes. Why was your senpai being so mean? Did you do something wrong?

Content that you had got the message, he took his hand away, trailing down to squeeze at your breast before dropping his hand further, to the hem of your sleep pants.

“Katsu-Katsu, wait, I don’t think I’m ready for this! I just want to go to sleep, let’s sleep.” You pleaded, shivering as his other hand still caressed your chest, roughly palming over your mounds and tweaking your nipples.

“Shut it, just stay still.”

You continued to squirm, pushing his hands away, trying to wiggle out of his lap, only for the blonde to finally snap.

He growled low in his throat, and then you were on your back beneath him, head hitting your pillow with a soft sound, Bakugou grabbing your hands.

“Are you fucking kidding me? I just wanna fool around and feel good and you’re being an uppity little bitch. Cut that shit out. This isn’t that big of a deal, stop being a baby about it and let’s have some fucking fun.”

The words held a bit of malice, a hint of a threat. But, what he was saying was true, wasn’t it? People your age did this kind of stuff all the time, it wasn’t a big deal. There wasn’t an issue with it.

Sighing, you tried to relax, slumping your shoulder dejectedly before Bakugou let go of your hands, his own moving to the waistband of your sleep pants. 

“There, see? It’s not that fucking hard.”

The thing brushing against your thigh was hard, warm and solid as it prodded you insistently.

Your pants came off, and so did Katsuki’s, leaving you both in nothing but underwear. His skin-tight briefs were tented, the length inside leaking against the fabric. It looked almost painful.

“Touch me.” The male commanded, grabbing one of your hands and guiding it to his clothed dick. You cringed when you made contact, the length twitching underneath your hand, but Katsuki wouldn’t let you pull back.

“I said to fucking touch me.” the blonde snapped, pushing his hips further into your hand.

Reluctantly, you started to massage his length, working it with your hand in rhythmic motions. The blonde groaned, and when you looked at his face his cheeks were flushed.

“Feels fucking good, keep doing that shit.”

One of his hands was unceremoniously shoved into your panties, immediately petting over your slit with quick, fast strokes. It wasn’t long before a finger prodded into your entrance, slowly pushing it’s way inside as you arched and winced against the intrusion. 

“Fucking relax and be good for your senpai. I’m doing this for you, be grateful.” Bakugou snapped, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Katsu-oh, feels-feels weird...” You mumbled, hips twitching underneath him. You tried to keep touching him, but your attention was quickly being ripped away and focused on the sensations between your legs.

The finger inside you thrusted slowly, gently, and you bucked your hips at the odd sensation, mewling when Bakugou’s thumb rubbed at your clit. It felt... weird, but in a good way.

But Bakugou was impatient.

“And you can’t even fucking touch me at the same time, you’re worthless as shit.” He spat, cruelly shoving a second finger inside of you. 

It hurt a bit, and you gasped, but before you could say anything the blonde was kissing you, lips crashing into your own.

“Mmph!” You squeaked, hands flying to anchor yourself by gripping onto his shoulders, trying to slow him down from attacking you with such fervor.

You couldn’t stop him though, he was determined to feel you.

“Oh fuck, you taste like mint-” He gasped, pulling away from your mouth to gasp for air. You felt dazed, like this was some sort of bleak dream-turned nightmare. Your toothpaste had mint in it, was that what he had been tasting?

The fingers inside of you were thrusting hard now, scissoring, stroking your walls, calloused skin being warmed by your insides. HIs thumb was still patting at your clit, rubbing broad circles around and on the bud, making you shake.

But then his fingers were gone, and Bakugou was pulling down his boxers, shuffling down the bed so he could slot himself between your thighs.

“Look at that tight little pussy, you’re so goddamn wet. You need a cock filling you up, huh?”

You laid there in a daze, barely registering what the blonde was saying. You missed the pleasant friction against your clit.

And then there was pressure, a tight stretch, burning.

Your legs kicked out and you inhaled, ready to cry out, but Bakugou clamped a hand tight against your mouth again, leaning down as he seated himself all the way inside.

“You make a noise, and I’ll just fuck this slutty little body harder, got it?”

Stilling, you shivered involuntarily, the feeling of the thick intrusion messing up your insides painful yet delicious. 

“Give me a goddamn answer you stupid bitch.” Katsuki spat, eyes blazing. 

Only then did you actually register what he had said previously, and you immediately nodded your head, looking up at your senpai with wide eyes. You didn’t want him to hurt you.

Satisfied, Bakugou grinned, although he didn’t remove his hand. He pulled his hips back just a tad, before grinding into you hard, relishing the way your tight walls sucked him in.

He repeated the motion, quickly building up a rhythm of short, heavy grinding thrusts, barely pulling out before grinding his cock in deep. 

“Fuck, fuck, you’re a treat.” The small bit of praise made you feel better, warmth spreading in your chest.

But then he started fucking you in earnest. 

It hurt, how rough he was being with your body, and you whined behind his hand, grabbing at his wrist. You needed air, and you couldn’t take in enough through your nose. 

Bakugou just gave you a disdainful glance, before hammering his hips against you, sweat beginning to bead on his brow.

The sharp burn had simmered down into a dull afterthought, the more pressing feeling being that of spiking pleasure each time Bakugou’s thick cock drilled into your insides. It felt good, you were almost writhing on your sheets, legs shaking and kicking out, hands scratching at Bakugou’s wrist, eyes rolling back into your head.

“Stay fucking still-!” The blonde growled, yanking you closer to his body before your careless wiggling could make his dick slip out of your tight entrance.  You moaned behind his hand, and Bakugou grinned, before taking his hand away, patting your cheeks roughly.

“What was that? Hm? Speak up little bitch, what’d you say?”

“Oh, oh please-! Katsu, feels-feels.....hnn, feels-!” You couldn’t finish your sentence, too overwhelmed with sensation to speak, hands circulating between gripping your hair, the sheets, and your chest, unsure how to handle the onslaught of pleasurable experience.

Bakugou huffed, quickly pulling out to maneuver you into a different position. 

The slight reprieve allowed you to catch your breath, but it was soon punched out of you again when Bakugo slammed home, your body laid out on top of his, your back to his chest, your head resting against his shoulder.

His hips flexed as he thrusted up into you, one hand holding your hip, the other using four fingers to rub wildly at your clit.

It felt so good.

Your hips kept jumping, legs shaking on each exquisite rub, each delectable thrust filling you up so nicely. 

“Mmh! Katsu, Katsu, please, oh-oh-oohhh-” The moan left you, and Bakugou sped up his hips, now uncaring of the noises that you made.

He just wanted to cum.

“Oh god, oh no, it’s feels good, it feels good-ugh, Katsu!” You cried, and the man grinned, bitting at the shell of your ear. 

“Fucking take it, gonna make you fucking cum.”

And you did, crying and moaning and shaking on his cock, walls convulsing and milking him dry, his balls clenching and twitching as he unloaded his seed inside you.

It was sticky, and hot, and it felt gross, but you were too fucked out to care, sweaty and exhausted and confused.

The only sound in the room was that of heavy breathing, both you and Bakugou worn out.

When you finally did move, it was because Bakugou was pushing you to the side, grimacing as his cock slipped free of your gummy insides. Cum dripped down your thighs, gloopy texture making you gag as it slowly seeped from your hole.

“I’ll... I’ll clean you up tomorrow.” Bakugou mumbled, throwing an arm around your waist to drag you close to him.

The thoughts swirling inside of you were so confusing. Right now, it was easier to melt into Bakugou’s chest than to think, to try and sort out what had just occurred. It was fine, it was normal. 

You just wanted to be good for your senpai.

[lifewithdavefarts]

DaveFarts - Episode 6 “Fart Bet, Easy Bucks” [Episode List] When, rather immaturely, Tim’s friends are doing some random, silly bets, things soon turn stinkier and gassier as Dave joins the game…

Fart Bet, Easy Bucks

The immature, roaring laughter of me and my friends echoed in the living-room as another pal of mine, Jim, took one last bite of an onion, his cheeks turning red, teary eyes, almost puking in front us. We clapped our hands like the drunk monkeys we were, ignoring our friend’s gagging sounds, and we all took another shot of vodka in his honor.

“Well done, Jim!” Adam laughed, as tipsy as the rest of us.

That’s what we were doing in Adam’s parent-free house: really mature bets. At late night, it was almost 3:00 a.m. Our onion-eating friend just lost one of those silly bets we were challenging each other to do. Pretty stupid tasks, like standing on one foot for 3 minutes or reading stuff upside down. Quite mundane, easy, but try doing it after two bottles of vodka-lemon. Each.  The loser had to take a couple of bites of an onion, because as I said, we’re very mature. And clever.

The entire room stunk like that stinky vegetable and alcohol, didn’t help that some of us were also burping loudly and proudly, but we were too tipsy to even notice or even be bothered by that (plus, it’s not like I’m not used to… bad-smelling stuff…). When not betting each other to do shit, we were all sitting on two different couches: Adam, Jim and a couple of other guys were all sitting and burping on a longer couch, while I was on a smaller one with Dave, sitting next to me.

As more laughs roared in the room for no reason, in the chaos, Dave elbowed me and chuckled a bit, bringing to my attention the weird vibrations on the couch: he was ripping one of his big farts, the sound completely muffled by the pillows, his loose dark grey jeans probably making it sound even louder and manlier. I only smiled a bit a took another shot of vodka; my gassy friend did the same, finding my awkward reaction hilarious as usual.

“Tim, it’s your turn!”

I almost chocked on my own drink when I heard my name: Dave’s flatulence usually makes me very absent-minded. I finally realized that Adam was standing in the middle of the room, each one of us, one by one, whistling a song to him: if he guessed wrong, then it’s onion-hell for him. It was my turn to whistle a song then. I think about it for a moment, and then I start to whistle this famous hit from a couple of years earlier, but I was pretty drunk, so I didn’t really realize how weird the sounds coming out of my lips were, but my friends laughing should have been a wake-up call.

Eventually, Adam ran out of time, because he couldn’t guess the song I was “singing” to him. He was mad, almost furious, but it was the alcohol talking.

“Tim, you’re an idiot!” he was understandably angry, because it was my fault. “That wasn’t even a real song, you asshole!”

Didn’t help that we were all laughing at him, but my friend didn’t accept defeat, and he actually had all the rights to.

“I’m not going to eat those fucking onions!” Adam shouted. “Tim made me lose: he should be the one choking on that shit!”

I wasn’t offended, to be honest. I was actually laughing like the rest of the guys.

“Dude… we’re out of onions!” Jim said, noticing the empty plate.

We all laughed even more after that and I may have given to my angry friend a smug-ish look. I was just kidding, but he took it very seriously.

“Oh you’re going down, Tim. Just you wait…”

He eventually convinced our other pals that I was, indeed, deserving a “punishment”.

“Make him lick your dog’s balls!” someone suggested. “Leave my princess out of this!” Adam replied, offended.

It’s like the entire group stopped being drunk just to decide what disgusting task I should have done. I just laughed the whole time: it’s part of the game, they were not mean-spirited. Even Dave suggested some stuff, like drinking expired milk with my nostrils. Each suggestion was met with a mixture of laughter and disgust.

After a couple of minutes of discussion, I felt Dave once again elbowing me.

“Gentlemen, please!” he shouted, in a slightly sarcastic tone. “Since you’re wasting my time, I propose an entire new bet. Whether the result, Tim will still get his… punishment, trust me!”

He was trying not to laugh, but he did earn some puzzled looks from our other pals.

“If Tim survives to  this  for 5 minutes straight…” he leaned a bit, the couch shaking again under the pressure of his enormous, muffled fart, which lasted 4 seconds. Our other friends laughed immaturely and I started to sweat. “…then you guys are going to give us 20$. Each.”

Dave was insane. Was he really going to do what I think… no, that’s just crazy. It can’t be, come on! There was people watching us! Our friends were a both amused and disgusted.   But also intrigued.

“But if he gives up, then Tim owes Adam… let’s see… 200$” “What?!” I thought, the money-part being the only thing I disagreed with. The thought of Dave face-farting me was amazingly distracting as usual.

As our friends discussed Dave’s proposal, my gassy friend just patted my shoulder. “Come on Tim, that’s some easy bucks, right?” he whispered, chuckling a bit. My fetish was just a weird, fun game to him, and I couldn’t have been happier. But in front of our pals? That was too strange even for my standards.

When I turned to my gassy bro, however, he was already leaning on his back, his legs cocked up, his loose dark grey jeans forming that well-known “barrage” made of denim, a really familiar sight for me. I heard my friends laugh, Adam getting closer to me, his hands on my shoulders.

“Come on Tim… I want to see your face turn green!”

He was trying to sound threatening, but he couldn’t help but laugh; I know Adam: he’s just a friendly dork trying to act tough and I knew that he was actually finding the entire situation immaturely hilarious. But he had to look mad, it’s part of his… character.

I heard Dave sucking some air in his ass, his jeans now sagging, exposing a bit of his red underwear (interesting color, that’s for sure). The weird sounds coming from my friend’s butt were the only thing I could hear, despite my friends laughing. Every time Dave farted was like a dream coming true, but this time we were not alone. I stopped thinking about how risky the situation was for a moment, knowing that my friends would never suspect what was really going on between me and Dave, and just listened to the chorus of “Sniff it!”.

I gently buried my face in that soft, denim pillow, his legs slowly wrapping around my head, as if he was hugging me, trapping me in his gas-chamber. With my nose touching his underwear-covered anus, I could still feel the air being sucked in. A moment of silence, and then I felt his butt-muscles relax, and a first fart began.

It was so loud it’s hard to describe. Despite being on command, it was incredibly gross and wet-ish. The smell was rancid and unbearable, the mixture of alcohol and onions in Dave’s stomach probably produced something that no human would have been able to handle. The fart was so strong… loud, manly: my entire face was shaking, I swear I’ll never get used to his gassy talent. I could barely hear my friends laughing: my ears were devoted to Dave’s immense display of flatulence.

I coughed a bit, pretending to hate the smell, when the truth was obviously really different. This first fart alone lasted almost 20 seconds, one of the longest I’ve ever experienced from him. Our friends clapped their hands in approval, having yet another shot of vodka, a toast to the incredible display of fart-talent they just witnessed, and just kept laughing immaturely.

As they laughed, I saw Dave’s face just above that “barrage” of sagging jeans: as usual, he was laughing, and smiled at me, and then winked: his “plan” was working great. I felt his hand brushing through my hair and gently pushing me even deeper into the denim depths of his ass, this time with my nose almost perfectly aligned with his underwear-clad anus.

Dave’s grip, as usual, felt more like a caress, and the fart that immediately followed was just as big as the first one. And hilarious as well. “This is a natural one!” I heard him say, basically bragging about his gassy-abilities, as the fart kept going strong, our friends laughing again. “Pull him closer!” Jim shouted, then (probably him) pushed me even more “inside” of Dave’s butt (I couldn’t tell if it was Jim, as my face –and eyes- was completely buried in my friend’s fart-shooter). Dave made his butt comically wiggle a bit, forcing some toots out: my nostrils were almost burning, the stench being a mixture of rotten onions and burning vodka-lemon.

“That’s so gay!” Adam laughed. Ironically, he was right, about me at least.

“3 minutes already!” I heard somebody scream. I almost lost track of time: as I said, those farts make me absent-minded. Dave just kept ripping this series of loud rips one after one, without even sucking in. I couldn’t tell anymore whether he was farting on command or not anyway: he was just so good at it that the farts always felt natural (and, 99% of times, they were). “Aww man.” Dave chuckled, lying down slowly. He was tired, exhausted. “Can I turn around?!” he asked. They all simply laughed in response, though I also heard some gagging sounds.

My best friend turned around slowly, adjusting his position, his legs somehow keeping my face planted in his ass, as if he was “wrestling” me down, albeit very slowly and gently. He was now lying on his stomach, his loose-jeans butt looking like a beautiful pillow made of denim, his red underwear slightly popping out.

“Do your longest one, Dave!” Adam suggested. I was both mad and grateful for that.

He then came closer and made sure that my face was buried in the farter’s butt, pushing me even deeper in it. Dave just laughed, while I was trying not to get as red as tomato. I just couldn’t believe how open-minded Dave was about this, going as far as face-farting me in front of everyone else; granted, the bet was a smart excuse, but still, I was speechless. I didn’t even feel embarrassed: it was like a big prank, and friends alway prank each other, but the friendship remains intact, if not even stronger.

“Alright, I feel a good one… ready?” my gassy friend said, but it’s like he was talking to me only, as if we were alone as usual, during one of our fart sessions.

It’s like his butt “hugged” my face even more, right before the explosion that engulfed my entire, defenseless head in a cloud of stench. The fart shook my entire face and part of the couch like an earthquake. The chainsaw-like sounds were as loud as a thunder; the whole flatulence sounded fake, but it wasn’t, at all. 10 seconds, but the fart kept going strong, almost unnaturally.

I caught a glimpse of Dave’s smile as he slightly turned his head around, making sure I was enjoying it, but the rest of our friends didn’t notice that apparently, as they were too busy laughing and clapping their hands. “No way!” Adam shouted, in a mixture of anger and hilarity: as the fart was still being ripped, Dave slightly lowered his jeans a bit, fully exposing the red underwear, the sound getting even louder. I felt his hand again pushing me between his buttcheeks, as he spread his legs a bit more. I was having a close-encounter with his anus, the underwear acting as one final line of defense separating me from the real source of that gas. The smell was unbearable: onions smelt nice in comparison. And it was great.

As a “big finale”, as Dave announced it, the flatulence turned as loud as it was humanly possible, the ear-piercing sound almost destroying my own eardrums. My nostrils were burning, my nose getting wet-ish due to Dave’s sweaty buttcheeks. It was the most intense face-farting that my best friend ever made me experience… and he was straight: imagine if he was gay!

“No fucking way!” Adam roared. “5 minutes!”

Everyone else cheered and laughed, playfully throwing pillows at our angry friend. I slowly sat back, Dave doing the same, tying his jeans belt again. He patted on my shoulder, laughing, while I was doing my best to tame my huge boner, hidden by my own jeans.

“No way! You guys did this before, come on!”

Adam asked, ironically (if only he knew…), now laughing too, as he took a 20$ bill out of his wallet. The rest of the guys reluctantly did the same, throwing money at us, disgusted and amused at the same time.

The entire living-room now smelt like onions and rotten alcohol (if rotten-alcohol existed… does it exist?), everyone moaning in disgust, while me and Dave counted the money we just earned… by cheating.

“Easiest bucks we ever made!” he whispered, handing 50% of the cash to me, elbowing me like he did other times. “Great job!” he chuckled.

We all had another shot of vodka-lemon, and the night proceeded as usual, as Jim found another stash of onions hidden in the fridge. As the really clever betting continued, my gaze landed more than once on Dave… just Dave, sitting next to me, as if nothing happened. He’s like a brother, my best friend. He did that for me, he felt he was really gassy because of all the alcohol… and so farted in my face as an excuse, money or not.

Yes, I bet Dave did all of that for me, not just the money. And that’s another bet I’m sure I’ll win.

End of Episode 6

[shootthemessenger]

i did things to you only lovers would do in the dark [b.d.h ; w.v.]

part 2 [ part 1 ]

billie dean howard x fem!reader x wilhemina venable

requested: something with billie dean howard (and/or wilhemina) where they are friends with reader parents? maybe reader and billie/mina get involved just for fun but they start to fall for each other and don't know what to do about it. Would love to read how they got together in the first place [anonymous]

disclaimer: sexual nature, strong language, significant age gap (all legal), teacher x student relationship

gifs belong to @clqrkkent , @thatsmypeach

It was Monday afternoon when you found yourself tracing soft circles against the wood of Wilhemina’s desk.

Through the dark lighting of her office you could very clearly see the picture of her and Billie across the room. It dawned on you that, despite the amount of time you had spent with Wilhemina in here, you rarely took time to examine the room.

The lighting was soft and dark, furniture bulky and taking up most space. Her spare cane occupied the spot in the corner, directly next to the one you had gifted her for her birthday last year. From your seat, you could see Wilhemina talking to another student. When she side-eyed you, your cheeks began to heat up. Her conversation ended just as quickly as it had began and she shuffled into the office with you.

She was silent for a moment until her voice cut through the air; “Can you tell me one thing you retained from my lesson today, darling?” She was already bordering on the edge of a lecture as you swallowed the lump in your throat; watching her settle back into her chair.

You stuttered for a moment, desperately trying to come up with some excuse that didn’t involve spilling your dirty secrets to her. Wilhemina raised a single hand to cut you off, “I don’t want to hear your pathetic babbling.” There was something about her voice that excited you.

“Sorry, Ms. Venable.” You finally managed to mumble out. She hummed in approval at your quick compliance. “If you’re not going to pay attention here, maybe we’ll have to find somewhere else for you to study.” She plucked a sticky note from her desk and began to scribble on it.

You panicked, “Ms. Venable, I promise I’ll start paying attention. I really can’t afford to drop this class. I need it.”

She let out a laugh and you almost had to question if there was a joke in the air that you had missed. You held your breath, watching as she motioned onto her lap for you. “Take a breath little one, I only meant we might have to organize a few after school study sessions.”

She passed you the note which now had her address written across it. A deep blush crept up your neck. “Yes, Ms. Venable.” She smiled softly at you, standing until she was face-to-face with you. “You’re so good for me, angel.”

Her finger pressed against the underside of your chin, forcing you to look at her. A shiver racked your body as her eyes softened subtly.

She leaned forward, pressing her lips softly to your own. You melted against her, savoring the feeling of her lips just as you did every day before leaving for work. Her fingers worked skillfully against the buttons of your blouse, expertly coaxing the buttons open.

You pulled away reluctantly, “Mina, I really would love to stay but I have to get to work.” You pouted as she examined your face for any sign that she had unintentionally crossed a line, when she was met with nothing but a genuinely apologetic look, she nodded softly and helped to straighten your shirt. “Of course, dear. We’ll finish this later.” She brushed her hand over your cheek

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?” She winked at the blush that spread across your face. You grinned, “Of course. And we’ll set up those study sessions ASAP.” A quick wink and bite to your lip was all it took for Wilhemina to soften significantly as you shuffled out of the room.

The elevator dinged as you stepped through the doors and straight into your office. The sound of your heels echoed sharply through the still air. You moved carefully to the mahogany desk and sighed to yourself as your bag slid off your shoulder and onto the too-big office chair.

It was dark, but the emptiness that consumed the space between the grey-colored walls during the weekend would soon be disturbed by your bustling business life during the week.

Pure light greeted you, just barely peaking out under the blackout curtains that covered the single glass wall behind you. With the click of a button, the curtain was rolling up into itself and revealing the space that was your office in the soft golden glow of the evening sun.

The beep of your desk phone called for your attention before your assistant’s voice rang through the office, “Miss y/l/n, there are two women here to see you?” Her voice dropped to a soft whisper as you could hear a very pointed discussion in the background, “and they’re really scary.” She mumbled into the phone.

You chuckled softly, pressing into the phone before speaking, “Thank you Natalie, send them up please and feel free to go grab dinner.”

It was silent on the other end before you could hear the motors of the elevator begin to whirl. You settled yourself on top of the desk, legs crossed at the ankle as used your hands to leverage yourself up.

The elevator sounded off once again as the doors rolled open, revealing the women to you.

Billie Dean stepped off first, black skirt hugging tightly at her hips and a loose, silk, pink blouse around her torso. Her face was hard, pointed and unreadable. A cigarette hung loosely from her lips before she put it out on the ashtray near the door.

She was quick to speak, “She’s new?” She pointed towards the elevator and you could have only assumed she was talking about your assistant. You nodded softly to which she simply said, “I don’t like her.”

Wilhemina followed closely behind her girlfriend, cane clicking in tune with Billie’s shoes. Her face was red, faintly matching the fiery color of her hair. “You should fire her.” She added before her eyes even had the chance to meet yours, coaxing a soft sigh from your lips.

“Yes she’s new but she’s a decent assistant. There’s no reason to have her fired, Mina.” She looked at you pointedly at the sound of the nickname in such a formal space.

“She’ll never get anything done around here. When she called you, I could hear the sex dripping from her voice like a desperate hooker.” Billie sounded nearly jealous, crossing her arms as her eyes narrowed.

“Are you jealous?” You questioned, eyebrow raising slightly. She chuckled, hitting down on her bottom lip. “What is there to be jealous of? Some blonde bimbo? No I’m not jealous. And if I was, you damn sure would be showed exactly who owned you.” She growled the last park, the usual cocky purr hidden deep within her voice.

You moved to change the subject, “Does my mother know either of you are stopping by?” You cleared your throat and slid off the desk, moving around to the other side before settling into the chair.

Billie’s eyes flicked over you as the ghost of a smirk leaked from her features, “You should know the answer to that question if we made it all the way to your office, sweetheart.”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. “What brings the two of you by? It’s dangerous coming here, my father has been hanging around my office like a bum and my mothers nearly here every day to assure your show is running smoothly.” You sighed, adjusting the glasses against your face.

Billie began to beam as Wilhemina smiled, “We wanted to see what it was like for you here. I’ve never seen you outside of the classroom and Billie was curious to see if your office looked anything like your mother’s.” She carefully moved into the guest chair across from you, settling into it.

Billie moved beside you and pressed a kiss to your cheek, standing over your shoulder before her lips ghosted against your ear, “plus we wanted to see how sexy you looked at work.” She added cheekily, her laugh echoing softly through the office. She followed quickly with the feeling of her nails digging into your skin; her head hung against your shoulder so that her lips could work against the skin on your neck.

Wilhemina watched with dominant eyes darting between you, her girlfriend, and all of the above.

“Ms.Howard. That’s hardly appropriate.” You teased as she worked skillfully to mark your neck, turning slightly to press your lips to her jaw. She laughed under her breath, “And neither is bending you over this desk but I’d do it in a heartbeat?” She warned as her signature smirk spread across her lips.

Wilhemina cleared her throat, “multiple times.” She added with a cocky laugh. You rolled your eyes at their antics and bussied yourself from getting distracted with the two women by arranging things on your desk. “Is that supposed to be a threat? Because it sounds more like a treat.”

Wilhemina’s voice was much darker now, “I’d like to call it a reward, darling. Do you deserve to be rewarded?”

The shiver that rolled through your body was evident as both women’s eyes burning holes into you, you did all you could to hold yourself up under the pressure of their gazes.

“I’d like to think so.” You finally managed to muster up, eyes locking with Wilhemina’s darker ones. She gave you a chuckle that rumbled deep within her chest, “Oh, she thinks.” Her tongue peaked out to wet her lips.

You lived for the moments when Wilhemina was so turned on by the sight of you that she was nearly seething with lust. When her voice was low and fueled with anger. It sent a thrill that tickled your spine.

“That’s not good enough, is it Ms. Venable?” Billie slithered her hands into your hair, tugging your head back to look at her. “Here’s what we’ll do to make you know, sweetheart.” She glanced at Wilhemina before her eyes met yours once more.

“Tonight at 9:00 you will meet us at our place. You’ll wear absolutely nothing but the black lace set I gave you yesterday and the coat hanging in your office. Do you understand?”

You swallowed thickly, nodding obediently as your eyes didn’t dare to break contact with hers. Her face broke out in a smirk as Wilhemina’s voice sounded, “Good girl.”

Taglist: @mssallymckenna , @proudnlittle , @coxmicbabygirl , @sapphicpaulsxn , @its-soph-xx , @fand0m-obsess3d-g33k , @paulsonix , @madamevirgo , @saucy-sapphic , @kikaykimkim , @billiedeansbottom

[hxneyandespressx]

we were both young when i first saw you

summary: jj and elle are friends, but are too scared to tell each other "i love you". that was until it was too late to even say goodbye

pairing: jennifer jareau x elle greenaway (jelle)

word count: 6k

a/n: inspired by love story (taylor's version)

☆。*。☆。

The evening sun slowly went below the horizon as a young blonde girl biked on the dark cobblestone path. A reusable tote bag, filled with organic produce, hung on her right shoulder as she weaved between people, trying to get home before dinnertime. Seeing a small bookstore up ahead, JJ pedaled harder. She parked her mint green bike against the side of the bookstore and entered the small boutique. The bell on top of the door rang, and an elderly man popped out from a room behind the cash register. He looked around to see who came in and smiled when his eyes landed on JJ.

“Ah– Miss Jareau. How may I be of your service today?” Alistair the bookstore owner greeted her, his thick Glaswegian accent rolling off his tongue. JJ smiled as she walked up to the cash register. She pulled out a brown leather-bound book and placed it on the countertop.

“Is there anything new this week?” JJ asked politely.

“Lemme see what I have in the back, lassie.” The elderly man shuffled back into the storage room, carrying the book JJ gave back. To pass the time waiting, JJ walked between the tall oak shelves, filled with wonderful stories to be read, to see any books she might be interested in. As she slowly walked down the aisle, her curious blue eyes spotted a rather peculiar book. Detailed artwork covered the book’s spine, intriguing JJ. The young teen gently pulled the book out from the shelf and brushed off the dust with her hand. Intricate floral illustrations decorated the hardcover. The burgundy color of the book complimented the floral illustrations. In gold lettering, the title of the book reflected the clementine sunlight coming in from the window. Romeo & Juliet. The blonde girl had heard of the tragedy play, but she never got the chance to read it.

JJ jumped when Alistair called out her name. She quickly put back the book and gathered her things. Coming out of the aisle, the young girl waved for the bookstore owner’s attention.

“Ali, I’m right here.” JJ called out as she approached the front of the store.

“Lassie, don’t just go and disappear on me like that.” Alistair said as he took a seat on the wooden stool.

“Sorry,” JJ apologized sheepishly. As she looked down, the book in Alistair’s hands caught JJ’s eyes. “What’s that you got?”

“This… is the new book I recommend you read this week.” The elderly man handed the rather thick book over to the blonde girl. JJ took her time inspecting her new read. Light scratches adorned the deep brown leather cover. The beautiful spine binding held the book together. Her thumb grazed over the gold title: Wuthering Heights. JJ smiled widely as she was excited to read her new book.

“Thank you, Alistair.” JJ thanked the bookstore owner as she made her way to the front door.

“Anytime, lassie,” The Scotsman waved goodbye to the blonde girl. “Say “hi” to your mum for me!”

“I will!” JJ said with excitement as she walked out of the bookstore. Feeling all giddy, the young girl carefully placed the book in her tote bag, trying not to crush the produce. She put on her helmet and started to make her way back home.

As JJ continued down the road, her ears caught the whispers of the townspeople. Snippets of how two girls were sneaking around, at odd hours of the day. The gossiping never bothered JJ, ever since five years ago. Some things would never change in this old town, JJ thought. However, one piece of gossip caught the young girl’s attention. Is Jennifer… you know… gay? This caused the young girl to gasp in surprise and stop her bike. If it came to light that Jennifer Jareau was gay, the whole town would shun her. The neighbors, everyone at school, her friends, Alistair, her parents. She can’t let that happen.

Taking a deep breath to calm herself down, JJ continued her trip back to her house. Once arriving, JJ parked her bike against the porch railing and entered her home. Her mother greeted her while her father sat silently in the living room, reading the Farmers’ Almanac. The blonde girl ignored her father as she took out her book from the tote bag and handed the vegetables to her mother.

“I’ll help once I put this book away.” JJ said, walking up the creaky staircase. Her mother nodded her head and went into the kitchen. JJ continued her way up until she entered her bedroom. A mahogany tall bookcase in the far right corner was showered in all the medals and participation trophies JJ won since playing soccer as a child. Coffee mugs cluttered her working desk. Pillows of different sizes piled on her medium-sized bed. CDs of various musical artists surrounded the small stereo system beside the bed. A large N*SYNC poster plastered on her wardrobe’s open door. Decorated simply, with a few more posters scattered sporadically, the bedroom was fit for a small-town girl.

JJ placed her new addition on her messy bed and proceeded to change into cleaner clothes for the evening. After changing, the blonde girl went to the window that was closest to the house beside hers. Moving the sheer white curtain and looking through the window, she hoped to see someone special in the house. But, alas, she wasn’t there. Maybe she’s busy, JJ thought. The sad girl exited her room, went down the wooden stairs, and into the kitchen to help her mother with preparing dinner.

Dinner went quietly as usual. The Jareaus weren’t the type to strike a conversation over dinner, not once since the tragic event that shook the family apart. JJ took away the dirty dishes and started to wash them, as it was her turn to do her chore. After washing the dishes, JJ headed up to her room for the night. She said “goodnight” to both of her parents before skipping up the stairs in excitement.

Closing the door gently, the blonde teen placed her back against the door and slowly let herself sink to the ground in a crouching position. She was glad that the day went all right. Her parents hadn’t argued, yet, so JJ was feeling content at this moment. Wanting to keep this mood going, JJ got up and went to her bed, grabbing the new book she got earlier in the evening. She laid on her bed, feeling comfortable, and cracked her book open.

A few hours went by and it was nearing midnight. The whole house was quiet, except for one room. Hey There Delilah softly played in the background as JJ was reading chapter four of Wuthering Heights. The blonde girl was enjoying her silence until she heard a small bang on her window. She sat up scared, her heart racing due to anxiety. Then, another bang on the window was heard. JJ got up from her bed and slowly walked to the window. She cracked the window open and stuck her head out, searching for the perpetrator. The warm summer air gently blew onto JJ’s face as the blonde girl squinted her baby blues. Just as she was leaving the window, her eyes caught a tall silhouette standing in the middle of the pathway between the houses.

Her dark chocolate locks gently swayed along with the summer wind. A Guns n’ Roses t-shirt hung loose on her lean frame. Dirty shoelaces left untied, lying on the dry clay soil. She was tossing a pebble into the air and catching it.

The girl waved a hand up in the air with excitement, calling out JJ’s name.

“JJ.” The girl yelled, the sound ringing into the night.

“Shush– our parents will hear you.” JJ hissed at her. The girl softly chuckled at the blonde.

“Meet me at our spot.” This was the last thing the mysterious girl said before disappearing into the darkness.

JJ smiled when the girl mentioned “our spot”. She was waiting all night to escape her house to spend some time with her favorite person. Closing the window, JJ turned off the music and lights. She hid some pillows to create a silhouette of a body under the comforter, making her cover for the night. The blonde girl grabbed her denim jacket and slowly opened her door, hoping that it wouldn’t creek into the pin-drop silence. She quietly tip-toed her way down the stairs, entering the kitchen. Opening the mint green door that led to the backyard, JJ stopped for a moment to make sure no one was awake. When it was clear, the blonde girl stepped out into the backyard, closing the door behind her.

A wide grin appeared on her face as JJ jogged into the woods. She made her way through the dark forest swiftly, as if she knew the land like that back of her hand. Seeing a sliver of moonlight ahead, JJ quickened her step while swatting away at any tree branches. Exiting the forest, the blonde made her way into a secret garden. This place was discovered one night by JJ and her best friend, when they were looking for a place to be alone together.

Making her way into the garden, JJ picked off a light pink rose from one of the bushes. Trying her best not to prick her fingers from the thorns, the blonde girl continued her way to search for her friend. And soon enough, JJ saw her, eyes closed while patiently waiting and leaning against the tall oak. Taking a small breath, the blonde girl walked up to her and laid her head on the mysterious girl’s lap.

Feeling a heavy pressure on her legs, the sleepy girl woke up in surprise, but calmed down when she saw JJ laying her lap.

“JJ.” A soft smile appeared on the brunette’s face.

“Elle,” JJ softly said. “Here, a flower for you.” The blonde girl lifted a beautiful pink flower in the air. Wanting to give the rose, she tried to pick off the thorns to make it safe to handle, while trying her best not to prick her fingers. Once done, JJ tucked some hair behind Elle’s ear while placing the pink rose there.

“There. Beautiful as always.” The blonde girl smiled widely as Elle looked away, a peachy blush forming on her cheeks.

“Anyways, how was your day? I missed you.” JJ said while twiddling with her thumbs.

“The usual. Fixing cars at my dad’s garage shop.” Elle said nonchalantly, folding her arms behind her head.

“Ooo what a tough guy.” JJ teased the brunette. Elle rolled her eyes at the cheesy line.

“How was your day, by the way?” Elle asked as she gently brushed JJ’s soft golden locks.

“I got a new book from Alistair!” JJ cheerfully said.

“Which one?” Elle asked.

“Wuthering Heights.” JJ stated. Elle chuckled when she heard the blonde girl’s answer.

“You do love your classics.” the brunette said lovingly.

“Said from the girl who thinks reading is boring.” JJ retorted back, sticking her tongue out to say I told you so.

“It is!” Elle exclaimed. “But I would only be interested in books if you read them to me.”

JJ raised her left eyebrow quizzically. Does this mean she likes my voice?, JJ thought.

“Would you?” JJ said, feeling amused.

“Cross my heart and hope to die.” Elle stated as she did the crossing motion over her heart.

The two girls continued their conversation for a while longer. They went from talking about literature to what they should do together next week. As JJ rattled on making a trip to Lake Erie, an idea popped into Elle’s mind. The brunette wiggled underneath the blonde girl’s head and made her way over to a few bushes, blooming with flowers.

Elle grabbed a couple of flowers from the bushes and some ivy from the iron gate next to them. After gathering her materials, the brunette girl walked back to her spot next to JJ. She started to make something out of them, knotting and tying them together with such skill. JJ sat up from her previous position and looked at her friend curiously, watching her hands working diligently. White gardenias and yellow stargazer lilies were tied together with strings of ivy, forming a flower crown. Elle smiled softly at her creation and gently placed it on JJ’s head.

“There. Fit for a princess.” Elle stated. She smiled softly at the sight in front of her.

“Elle…” JJ said with so much adoration in her voice. A deep peachy blush formed on Elle’s cheeks, not from embarrassment, but the fact that her best friend and crush liked what she made.

“I made it because it’s fun and I know you look good with flowers.” Elle explained. JJ brought Elle into a warm embrace, their blonde and brunette locks getting tangled together. The two girls stayed in the embrace for a while. The brunette girl’s nose got stuck in the tangles of champagne blonde locks. Taking a quick sniff, Elle caught the scent of peaches, recognizing that it was JJ’s favorite shampoo.

“Now It’s my turn to make you one.” JJ said with excitement, pulling away from the hug.

“No.” Elle deadpanned. The brunette was not the one for flowers. She only made the flower crown for her friend.

“Come on! Let me make you one!” The blonde pouted.

“Okay,” Elle said as she had her hands up as a joke, pretending she got caught for a crime she committed. “ Surprise me.”

JJ huffed and got up from the ground, dusting away at any grass that clung to her muscular legs. She walked over to a few bushes far away from Elle, thinking and deciding which flowers to choose. Once she picked her choices, JJ happily walked back to where Elle was. The blonde girl sat down and got to work, hoping to make her friend the best for crown ever. She tried to sow cornflowers and dwarf sunflowers together with strings of ivy that got leftover. Getting frustrated, JJ tried her best attempt at making a flower crown.

Elle was amused by JJ’s attempt at a flower crown, but not wanting to upset her, the brunette kept her mouth shut. JJ bit on her lip to keep herself from swearing as she was having trouble tying the ivy close, to make a circle. After a few attempted tries, the blonde finally got the final knot tied.

“Tada!” JJ exclaimed as she lifted the flower crown in the air. Feeling proud of herself, she gently placed the headdress onto Elle’s head. “Now we can be princesses together.”

“You know I’m only doing this for you, right?” Elle stated.

“I know.” JJ said as she stuck her tongue out, just to be silly. Elle laughed at the silly attitude JJ put on. The laughter slowly died as Elle leaned back against the tall oak tree. JJ sat across from the brunette as the two of them chatted the hour away. As it neared 2:30 am, a twinkling light shot through the night sky caught JJ’s eye.

“Elle! Lookup!” JJ excitedly said as she pointed at the dark abyss. The brunette girl squinted her eyes as she searched for what JJ was talking about. Just then, another twinkling light darted across the sky. Elle puffed some air out in surprise.

“Well, what do you know? We get a show tonight.” Elle joked as she slowly got up from her position. Brushing the grass clippings off her shorts, Elle held out her hand for JJ to take.

“Come on, let’s watch the sky.” JJ smiled as she took Elle’s hand. The girls walked onto the open grass patch, trying to take their seats to watch the surprise meteor shower.

Both the girls laid on the soft dewy grass as they watched the twinkling night sky. The moonlight shined brightly down upon them, acting as a spotlight.

As Elle looked at the sky, JJ was looking at the brunette. The bright moonlight illuminated the brunette’s face, showing off the little freckles that painted her soft face. Her chocolate locks swayed along with the warm August air. She smelt like lemongrass and sleep. To JJ, it was like she was admiring her from afar, like a polaroid picture hanging on her bedroom wall.

Slowly but surely, the blonde girl moved her hand towards Elle’s, gently grabbing the brunette’s open hand. JJ’s cold left hand held onto Elle’s warm palm as a smile appeared on the brunette’s face, her head turning to face the blonde. JJ felt so lucky to call Elle her best friend, but she wanted something more. But she doesn’t want to break the friendship they currently have. Her heart ached every second when Elle wasn’t hers.

JJ’s baby blue eyes stared into Elle’s own deep russet eyes. They observed each other’s eyes for a few moments before tearing their gazes apart to look up at the twinkling night sky. Both the girls continued to stargaze in silence, the crickets in the grass playing their nightly song.

“I wish we could escape this town for a little while. Just you and I.” Elle stated as she stared at the night sky. She wasn’t looking for an answer, as she knew that JJ wanted that too.

“If we were to get out of this old town, how would you imagine our lives together?” JJ asked as Elle’s statement piqued her interest.

“Perhaps an apartment in a city of our choosing. Preferably in Manhattan. I come home, bringing you flowers while you are baking cookies.” Elle explained. A soft pink blush formed on JJ’s cheeks, feeling warm as she heard Elle’s plans about their future together. She too hoped that one day they get to leave Pennsylvania together and live happily ever after.

“What about a pet?” JJ asked.

“What about it?” Elle asked, feeling indifferent about having a pet.

“Maybe… a turtle?”

“Why a turtle?”

“Because they are cute, duh.”

“And if we were to get one, what would you name it?”

“Henry,” JJ stated. Elle laughed quietly, hoping not to alert anyone. “What? I think it’s a cute name.” the blonde huffed, pretending to feel offended.

“I’m sorry.” Elle said as her laughs died out.

“You’re let off the hook for this one, Greenaway.” JJ jokingly said. The two girls continued their stargazing “date” with little blips of conversations here and there. JJ felt content being with Elle and she hoped that nothing would tear them apart.

JJ yawned softly as it was getting very late. She let go of Elle’s hand and slowly got up from the ground, dusting off any grass that clung to her legs. Elle softly smiled at the cute yawn that JJ just had as she stared up at the blonde girl.

“What?” JJ asked.

“Oh– uh nothing,” Elle said passively. The brunette girl also got up from the ground, making herself neat so she wouldn’t track grass and dirt into her house.

“Let’s go home.” Elle held out her hand, hoping that JJ would take it. Indeed did JJ take it because she may never know when she would see Elle last. The two girls took their time walking through the garden, almost acting like a couple. They got out of the garden, carefully closing the wrought iron gate, hoping the creaking metal wouldn’t wake anyone. Making their way through the dark woods, Elle and JJ continued to hold their hands to feel more connected. And it was also not to lose each other.

They reached the backyard of the Jareaus and had to part ways for the night.

“Night, JJ.” Elle said as she released her hand from JJ’s. The brunette girl turned her heels and headed to her house’s patio door.

“Night, Elle.” JJ smiled as she quietly made her way to the kitchen backdoor. Gently opening the mint green door, JJ tip-toed into the kitchen and prayed that no one heard her enter. Once the coast was clear, the blonde girl gently closed the door and locked it. She gently took each step one by one, not making a sound, as she made her way up the stairs and into her room. JJ opened her door slowly, as the metal hinges tended to creak when not oiled properly. She entered her room and closed the door in the same fashion. When locking the door, JJ let out a breath that she didn’t even know she was holding. Feeling content for the night, JJ took off the flower crown that Elle made off her head and placed it gently on her nightstand. She took one of the polaroid pictures off of her wall and flopped onto her bed, letting her muscles relax.

JJ brought the polaroid up to her face to see the captured moment. It was Elle, all dirty from car grease, smiling and posing like Rosie the Riveter. JJ kissed the picture and proceeded to close her eyes, holding onto the polaroid picture like a dream catcher.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A few days passed by and the warm summer sun shone onto the garden as JJ and Elle were giggling and having fun, having no care in the world. Like it was only them on their paradise island. That was until they heard some bustling and a shout behind a hedge.

“Jennifer, where are you?” The angry voice of JJ’s father rang in the afternoon sky. The blonde girl’s head never turned so fast in fear to face her father. Salty tears pricked her azure eyes as her father marched towards the two girls. Right behind him was Elle’s father, also raging in anger. Both the girls yelled as they were grabbed by their fathers, separating them apart. Shouts filled the air and the girls tried to kick their way out of the men’s arms.

“How did you find us?” Elle yelled as she tried to squirm her way out.

“Micheal saw her sneaking through the back kitchen door and called me over to investigate. We followed behind JJ as she went through the woods.” Robert explained, trying his best to use his strength to hold onto his daughter. JJ gasped in shock as she didn’t know that her father kept an eye on her.

“I didn’t know anything about this Elle! I swear!” JJ shouted. The blonde girl grunted as she tried to get out of her father’s tight grip on her arms.

“I knew you two were friends since a young age, but this? This is unacceptable. We heard the rumors circulating town so we had our suspicions.” Micheal said through his teeth, clenching his jaw to prevent himself from shouting more.

“But I love her!” Elle yelled out as her deep russet brown eyes caught JJ’s baby blue ones. The blonde gasped softly at Elle’s confession, trying to understand what she heard with her own two ears. I love you. She loves me! I have to tell her back!. JJ thought. Just as JJ was opening her mouth to say “I love you” back to Elle, her father interrupted her.

“Stay away from JJ!” Michael shouted at Elle, hoping that he wouldn’t have to see the brunette with his daughter again. Elle’s dad dragged her away from the Jareaus as Elle continued to shout, her voice fading away.

When the Greenaways were gone from the premise, Micheal Jareau let go of JJ and the blonde girl was exasperated, holding onto her arms.

“What the hell was that?” JJ said as she tried to catch her breath.

“What the hell? I should be the one asking you, JJ. I can’t believe you went behind my back for this. I know you and Elle are friends but it very well seems to be more than that.” Michael said in his normal voice, still keeping the anger in his tone.

“And so what? You would throw me out of the house?” JJ challenged him. JJ’s father scoffed at her.

“I don’t need another Roslyn situation,” Micheal yelled at JJ. “You better get your head straight.”

“Don’t you dare bring up Ros!” JJ shouted back, her voice quivering and angry tears forming in her eyes. She couldn’t believe that her father had the guts to say her dead sister’s name. If she were alive, JJ would have been living with her, away from her father’s wrath.

JJ pivoted on her heels and ran away as fast as she could from her father. She needed to get away from the situation, but especially away from him.

“I expect you back home in the next fifteen minutes!” Michael shouted as he turned his back to head home. JJ didn’t hear him. Her thoughts were muddled from all the rushing emotions. The blonde girl ran for as long as she could because she would have to think about what had happened if she stopped. JJ ran into an open clearing and a beautiful meadow presented itself as a sanctuary, a place where JJ could calm down and gather her thoughts. Wildflowers and dandelions flourished all over the bright green grass. A family of white-tailed deer hid behind the tall maple and oak trees from afar. Small bumblebees danced in the air as a chipmunk was gathering seeds near the ground to stockpile for the winter.

JJ tried her best to slowly catch her breath as she walked further into the meadow, trying to find a place to sit. She laid down once she reached the middle of the meadow and everything came rushing back. All the shouting, crying, and fading of Elle’s voice played loudly in her mind. JJ needed to get away from that but it followed her to the meadow, almost haunting her. Tears started to form and slowly dropped to the soft earth.

Why? Just why did all this have to happen? JJ thought. Why couldn’t I have my happily ever after like the other girls?

JJ covered her face with her hands as the tears fell harder. Her crying screams rang loud within the quiet meadow. At this moment, the blonde girl didn’t care if someone heard her. She got separated from the love of her life and she didn’t know how to cope with the loss.

After crying out for a few minutes, JJ’s voice started to grow hoarse. Her eyes dried up, no longer being able to produce tears. But her heart still longed and ached for Elle. Taking a big sniffle, JJ rubbed her face to get rid of the dried tears on her cheeks with the hem of her t-shirt. She got up tiredly from the ground and felt the wind passing through the meadow. Goosebumps formed from the chill summer evening air and JJ had to hug her torso to keep herself warm. Deciding to face her father’s wrath for the second time of the day, JJ slowly walked out of the meadow and into the forest, squinting her eyes as the sun was going down the horizon.

Once she reached her family home, JJ entered the house through the back kitchen door and saw her father at the dining table, reading the local newspaper. Her head hanging low, JJ shuffled to her room, without saying a word to her father.

As she entered her bedroom, a new emotion set in JJ’s heart: anger. Angry at her father, at Elle’s father, at the whole town. To JJ, there was nothing wrong with loving whoever you felt attracted to, but a small town in rural Pennsylvania thought otherwise. In a blaze of anger, the blonde girl grabbed all the polaroids that hung on the wall and threw them onto the carpeted floor with lots of force. She aggressively took the flower crown that Elle made for her and threw it out of the open window, wanting to get rid of any evidence that reminded JJ of the brunette.

Angry tears pricked JJ’s sad baby blue eyes and the blonde girl clenched her fists, trying her best to not scream. She felt life was being unfair to her. Everything that happened today was unforgivable to JJ. She hoped that her father goes to hell when he dies. Tears fell harder as JJ started to weep, hiccups coming and going.

Feeling hollow from her outburst a few minutes ago, JJ sat at the edge of her bed while staring at the floor. Her limbs felt exhausted as she laid down on the comforter. Her muscles ached from all the running she did earlier today. JJ let her eyes slowly close and Mr. Sandman did his job sprinkling his golden dust over the tired girl, hoping she gets good dreams that would distract her from the swirling emotions in her heart.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A few weeks went by, and JJ hadn’t received anything from Elle. No phone call. No email. Not even a letter. Hope was slowly drained out of JJ’s heart as the days of August slipped into a moment in time.

Everything that JJ did or said reminded her of Elle. The blonde girl cursed herself as she wanted to get over the hurt quickly, but her heart did not allow it.

Monday. The overwhelming feeling of emptiness consumed the blonde girl as she stared at the ceiling. Her eyes trained onto a singular spot on the plaster as the golden rays of the summer evening cast down upon JJ’s face. Hurt by Christina Aguilera softly played in the background as JJ wallowed in her thoughts. Why did she have to leave? Was it because of me? It was totally because of me. Ugh– we should have run away together when we had the chance.

JJ wondered what it was like to be loved by Elle. She wondered if someday Elle would be by her side. A small headache slowly formed as JJ kept living inside her mind. Sighs filled the air and JJ closed her eyes as a way to escape the tornado of emotions that was swimming in her heart.

Tuesday. As the blonde girl was riding her bike back from the town’s bookstore, JJ decided to take a long detour. Taking the nearest alleyway, JJ changed course to head in a different direction. As each second passed, JJ pedaled faster, almost like she had an appointment somewhere.

A red building was approaching fast and JJ had to hit her breaks, almost falling off her bike. The blonde girl tried to catch her breath as she looked over at the empty building. People were not bustling about and fixing cars. The scent of grease was no longer present in the late summer air. All the spare cars were taken back to the local junkyard, ready to be rusting the days away. And most importantly, Elle wasn’t there. A white picket was staked in the front, saying “For Sale”.

With a sliver of hope, JJ prayed that Elle came back as the blonde girl started to pedal back her way home.

Wednesday. Grey clouds took over the typically light blue Erie sky. The warm summer rain danced rapidly across the black asphalt as JJ solemnly sat by her window. Hoping that Elle would tear the curtains open, JJ fixated her gaze at the empty room with glassy eyes. No one had bought the now empty house in the past few weeks, the “For Sale” sign gently swaying along with the wind. The blonde girl hadn’t moved her position in a few hours, also like a skeleton hanging on a hook. All empty inside and the only thing that filled the void was her hurt and longing for a certain brunette. It was like JJ’s soul was taken away when Elle left.

JJ sat with her knees up to her chest, with her chin resting on the kneecaps. The pain in her heart was far greater than the aching pain in her muscles and joints. The wind changed direction and the rain splattered into JJ’s room. JJ was unbothered by this as her clothes slowly started to get wet and her skin got chills from the rain. She sat in this position for another fourteen minutes before getting up from the ornate chair. The girl grumbled as she moved the chair back to where it was with the desk. She went back to the window and shut it with ease.

Feeling tired, JJ slowly changed out of her wet clothes into a cotton pajama set, designed with blue butterflies. She rolled up her wet clothes into a ball and threw it like a basketball into the hamper, scoring it inside. A tiny smile formed, but as quickly it came, it disappeared just as fast.

The blonde girl slowly climbed into her bed, covering herself with the comforter. Her eyes drooped with tiredness as JJ tried to relax her aching limbs.

I will spend my whole life loving you, was the last thought JJ had before she dozed off into a dreamless sleep.

Thursday. JJ took a walk after eating dinner with her family. She needed to get away from them, as tension was building up in the Jareau house. The blonde girl walked past the entrance to the secret garden that she and Elle frequented. She paused in the middle of the sidewalk. Tempted to enter, JJ held out her hand to hover over the rusted iron handle, only to hesitate. Memories rushed into her mind, reminding her of that fateful day. But a little sliver of hope was felt in her heart and JJ proceeded to enter the secret garden. Weaving her way through the tall hedges, JJ speed-walked towards a certain place and passed by some bushes blooming with pink roses. She was able to find the special spot that was her’s and Elle’s. Feeling blue, JJ walked up to the same tall oak tree from weeks ago and sat by the overgrown roots, curling up to a fetal position. She wanted to feel something, anything, as the scent of lemongrass wafted into the air. JJ looked up, hoping that it was Elle, but all she was greeted to was a blank space.

Friday. JJ was spending her night wallowing in her heartache. She slowly strummed her acoustic guitar, the dissonant chords rang into the silent air. A knock was heard at her bedroom door, signaling that someone was there, waiting to enter the somber room.

“JJ….” the blonde girl’s mother gently called out her name.

“....Come in.” JJ croaked out, her voice hoarse from the lack of talking from the past few weeks. Mrs. Jareau opened the door and entered JJ’s room with a peculiar package in her hands. She gently placed the package on the messily made bed.

“This package came from someone special.” Once those words came out of Mrs. Jareau’s mouth, JJ snapped her head up to look at her mother.

Knowing her daughter’s answer, Mrs. Jareau exited out of the bedroom, hoping the package would bring JJ out of her heartache. When her mother left, JJ stared at the package on the edge of her bed, the package taunting her to open it. The blonde placed her guitar by her bedside and grabbed the oddly-shaped package.

JJ carefully pulled the transparent ribbon off and peeled off the brown paper wrapping. Inside was a royal blue cotton blanket, with a scarlet letter laid on top of it. In messy handwriting, the letter was addressed to JJ. The blonde girl slowly opened the letter, unfolding the paper in her hands. Her tired eyes began to read the scribbled content of the letter.

Dear JJ,

I’m sorry for what happened. Everything was all my fault. I knew the consequences if we were discovered together, but I didn’t care. I only ever cared about you. This letter and the gifted blanket are a way for you to remember me.

We’ll see each other again — I promise.

Love, Elle

The blonde girl picked up the soft blue blanket and brought it close to her chest, to feel close to her lost love. A teardrop slowly fell down JJ’s solemn face. One by one, more tears fell, dripping onto the paper wrapping.

“I love you, please don’t go.”

taglist: @reidtheprettyboy / @morcias / @pagetsimp / @makaylajadewrites / @everything-im-a-fan-of / @j3lle / @gravelyhumerus / @temily / @fearlessed / @jellejareau / @girlbossjareau / @homosexualyearning / @wheelsup / @hotchsbabygirl / @lewistara / @a-writers-ramblings / @sapphic-prentiss / @hqtchner / @spencers-renaissance

[cixthotshit]

Gon Gonie

Pairing: Lee Byounggon/BX x Original Female Character|Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, just a drop of Angst, College/University AU, Friends to Lover (established)

Summary: Getting BX to see that she had a crush on him was a lot more work than Piti had thought it would be

Word count: 4.3k

Rating/Warnings: Mature / Explicit Sexual Content: Porn With A Sprinkling of Plot, Kissing, Nipple Play, MtF Vaginal Sex

Author’s Note: This is a sister fic to an NCT fic of mine at my NCT fic blog. You don't have to read the original fic to get into this one, don't worry! You can read this as a stand alone one shot fic. But if you're here cuz you read my Yuta fic first, OK, I didn't plan to write this, but I couldn't help myself. I love BX and I had a lot of fun writing this! Sorry if I have any grammar mistakes, I try my best when proofreading but things always slip through. I always appreciate some feedback on my writings!

Piti tucked a little of her yellow tshirt under her left boob, the underside of her breasts were sweaty. She bent down under her desk to check the connection of her computer and webcam before reaching behind her to pull her cotton pink shorts down. It was riding up her left butt cheek. Her fuzzy pink slippers made her toes sweaty, so she kicked them off, letting them roll over toward her wooden coffee table.

“I mean, I think I did it right,” she said, glancing behind her to see BX adjusting the lighting to the lamp she’d purchased 2 weeks previously. “If I can’t stream tonight, I’ll just tell Willa that I wasn’t meant to be a CamGirl. It sounds like such easy money.”

“You already have a big following on Insta,” he replied. “I thought you had sponsorships.”

“They don’t always pay,” she said, sitting on her desk chair. “Thanks for trying to help. I didn’t know who else to call.”

“No problem,” he said, his eyes fixed on the lighting in her living room. “At least you’re nice to me.”

“Suchin’s mean to you too?” Piti asked, laughing. BX had always received fairer treatment from Piti’s elder sister, but BX was much kinder to Suchin than Piti ever was. It was unfair for Suchin to be mean to BX.

“She’s been mean to everyone,” he answered. He sighed, pulling his phone out of the back pocket of his skinny jeans. His eyes were glued to the screen as he sat down onto her baby blue couch. “She says that she’s stressed. I’m stressed too, you know?”

“What’s up?” Piti asked, walking away from her desk, which was set up beside the door to her balcony. She walked to the couch that sat beside her desk.

Sitting down next to BX, Piti took his left hand into her hands. There was a Bandaid wrapped around the top knuckle of his middle finger. She grinned, remembering when they’d FaceTimed in the morning. He’d cut his finger while cutting up an apple. For as long as she’d known him, he was prone to accidents.

They met when she transferred to a new university the previous year. He had always been her older sister’s friend, but she got along well enough with him that she could text or call him to ask about tech issues she had. Pressing her lips together to moisten the corners of her bottom lip, Piti had to admit that he’d become more than just her go-to tech person in the recent months.

Since starting his Film Studies, BX had come into contact with Piti more. He was filming partners with her sister. She was often trying to get Suchin’s attention, mostly asking her for help. Suchin had been busy directing and interviewing subjects for her documentary, so BX had become more reliable. He’d been the one to talk her through clearing out the clogged sink in her kitchen while he cleaned up the flesh wound on his middle finger.

His head rested against the back of the couch with his fingers half hidden behind the loose sleeves of his oversized grey sweater. His eyes remained glued onto his phone when she ran the tips of her fingers against his palm. Piti swallowed air as her eyes remained fixed on BX’s tongue licking his lips. The red of his lips reminded her of the Thai chili peppers she’d put into the curry she made for dinner. Her tongue burned with a sharp heat, remembering how hot the curry had been.

“I know our professor sucks,” he spoke up, his damp lips glistening under the lamp light. She released his hand, realizing he didn’t care what she was doing to his hand. The shaggy fabric of her periwinkle throw pillow cushioned her lower back as she rested her back against the couch. “I don’t know if film school is working out. Maybe I should have gone for medical studies. Do something in social sciences.”

“You’re still young,” she said, grabbing his hand again, giving it a squeeze.

His tone had sounded tired, more like he was thinking out loud instead of having an actual conversation with a human being, a very cute one too. Piti would remember never to give Film Studies a try if she wanted to keep her stress levels low. She bounced in her seat when he squeezed her hand back. Their eyes locked, and she gave him a half grin.

“You can change your career path whenever you want. Why do you think I want to give OnlyFans a try? I don’t know how long I’ll be this cute with such pretty tits.”

He gave a dry chuckle, his eyes returning to the illuminating light of his phone. His mouth was frozen into a handsome grin. Piti ran her free hand through her hair to stop herself from reaching out to touch the dimple on his cheek. She shifted herself to brush her chest against his arm, her heartbeat thumping rapidly up her back.

“Thanks for helping me,” she said, shifting her eyes to peer toward him. His eyes were lidded as he seemed to be reading something on his phone. “You help me out so much.”

“Come on,” he said before giving a scoff, tutting his tongue against the back of his teeth. His grin widened as his eyes returned to meet hers. “Of course. Any time.”

“Can I help you with anything?” she asked. She squeezed his hand again. “I’m sorry you’re stressed.”

“Thanks for listening to me complain,” he said, setting his phone down on the armchair.

“Please,” she said, rolling her eyes, pressing herself closer to him, “that’s hardly anything. Um, BX?” She squeezed his hand again. His face seemed to be coming in closer. The scent of Coke was infiltrating her nose as the warmth of his breath tingled her lips. “Do you think I’m cute?”

His lips touched hers, and she shut her eyes. Her entire face flared up in prickling heat. Her mind could only form curse words together as they flashed behind her eyelids in bold red letters. An overwhelming pressure built up in her chest, making her sinuses tingle uncomfortably.

He wrapped her into his arms, his hold warming her up. She broke their kiss, placing her hands onto his shoulders as she gave out a sob. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Piti?” he asked, barely above a whisper. “Am I a bad kisser?”

“No, silly,” she replied, snorting a sob when she inhaled a breath. She shut her eyes as BX gave out a belly laugh. She groaned as she threw her face into his chest, fisting her hands into his sweater. “I like you so much, BX.”

Her voice was muffled, but she was completely embarrassed, unable to look up. She’d never liked anyone as much as she liked BX. When she’d realized that she liked him she did her usual flirting tactics. She put in extra effort into her looks when she met with him, such as when she called him to ask for assistance to set up her new webcam. It never failed to get her hookups’ attention whenever she was looking her most desirable.

Her yellow top was old, so the fabric was loose and slightly transparent. The hole at the hem near the left side of her hip was supposed to be tantalizing, she certainly always ran her fingers to play with the fabric there. The soft yellow and pink together made Piti feel like she was a colorful candy, ready to be unwrapped. But he seemed immune, uninterested.

“And it makes you sad?” BX said, his tone going low. His hold on her loosened.

She looked up at him, and the nerves in her jaw lit up, sending a warm sensation down the front of her throat. His gaze was soft, his lips barely parted. Tilting her head up, she gave a sniffle before kissing him. She shut her eyes, furrowing her eyebrows as she opened her mouth to capture his luscious bottom lip between hers. His tongue licked her lips, making her insides squirm like fish caught in a net.

“I like you,” she said again, pulling away from his kiss, the inside of her ears burning up. She’d never wanted to be the first person to admit to having feelings or attraction, but she knew there was more to her attraction to him than physical attraction. “I’ve been putting on my cutest clothes. I always make sure my hair is all bouncy and curly. And like, you never look at me.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his dimple deepened as he smiled widely, touching his forehead to hers. “My mind’s been focused on the doc.” He paused. She shut her eyes as the warmth of his hand cupping her cheek sent a shiver down her back. “Holy shit, Piti. You like me?”

She opened her eyes and felt goosebumps form along her arms. His gaze was soft, and his eyes slowly drifted down her neck to her body. When his eyes met hers again she nodded gently.

“I’ve never wanted like, a boyfriend,” she confessed, her cheeks hot and her nipples hardened as heat surged down to her stomach, “but I don’t even know how many nights I’ve been going to bed thinking about you. And like, when you finally kissed me, like, I’m so embarrassed. I want you to like me back so much.”

“How can I not like you?” he asked. His thumb caressed her cheek, making her body warm up. He gave her a chaste kiss. “You’re always feeding me those rice balls with tuna. You thank me for the smallest things. We made that study playlist together and we split the songs up evenly. You’re the sweetest person I know.``

His hand touched her hip, massaging her before sliding it down to touch her thigh. She shook as his fingertips touched the bare skin of her inner thigh. His touch made her nerves light up in erratic flames, his fingers soft like silk. Her shaggy throw pillow was making her butt sweaty, but she didn’t want to break the mood by reaching behind her to toss a purple pillow aside. Every word out of his lips made her insides warm.

“You’ve got the most beautiful body, the softest skin, kissable lips.”

“Keep going,” she whispered, pressing herself closer to him.

“It’s brave that you live on your own,” he said, “and you’re never afraid to ask for help, either.” She pecked his lips. She’d wondered for weeks what he thought of her. Hearing him speak of her in nothing but positives filled her whole body with a comforting warmth. “Your confidence makes you hot, and lovely.”

“You’re like, the perfect guy,” she said, raking her fingers through his hair. His cheeks flushed and she planted wet kisses onto his cheek and neck. He laughed, his hands pulling her into his lap. “I’m serious, BX. You’re so patient, and like, you’re so caring to me. And you’re a beautiful man.” He groaned, shutting his eyes. She planted a kiss onto his left eyelid. “Your eyes are so pretty when you smile.” She kissed the tip of his nose. “Your nose is cute.” She kissed his cheek. “Your skin is so much clearer than mine.” He chuckled. “Your lips are perfect.”

He kissed her, his tongue pushing against her lips. She opened her mouth and pushed her tongue against his. He groaned into her mouth, and she gripped onto his shoulders tightly as she felt a hand grope the inside of her thigh. He tasted like sugar and salt, the familiar blend of Coke and McDonalds fries filling up her senses.

“Fuck, you’re so bold,” she breathed out when she broke their kiss, the mixture of their saliva leaving a wet trail down her chin. She moaned, looking down at BX’s hand push up against her groin. His thumb pressed against the hood of her clit, and her hand shot down to grip onto his wrist. “Byounggon -”

“Gon, call me Gon,” he demanded, pushing his hand up and down against her slit. Red heat blinded her.

“Gon,” she said with a loud exhale. Blinking, she threw her fingers up to cover her smile as his cheeks flushed again, his head bowing down. His thumb drew circles against her, sending waves of heat deep inside, making her buck her hips. “Gon, oh my God!”

She gasped and bucked her hips again. His fingers slipped under her shorts, and she felt a hot flash of pride wash over her body. He’d grinned as he glanced up at her, feeling that she hadn’t worn any panties. Two of his fingers slid against her folds, applying pressure as they dragged upwards, making goosebumps form along her back and up her arms. Her grip on his wrist tightened as she looked up at him, his gaze drifting up to look her in the eyes.

“How do you worship your God?” he asked, his smile widening as he pressed his forehead against hers. “Calling me out already, that’s cute.”

“Gon,” she said, her cheeks hot. “Are you teasing me?”

“You don’t like it?” he asked. His hand slid away from her core, making her insides shake.

“Don’t stop,” she said, her grip on his wrist tightening again as she pressed her fingers against his hand.

“Hey, there’s a special word that you didn’t use,” he said, his smile disappearing.

“Gon?”

She closed her eyes as he kissed her, his tongue warming her lips once more. His hand slipped away from her hold, moving to caress her hip. Throwing her hands up to his chest, she pushed him off as she opened her eyes.

“‘Please,’ is the special word,” he said, looking down at her, his eyes barely open. “I know you can be a brat, Piti, but I don’t tolerate brattiness well, not when my dick is involved.”

She gave a shy chuckle, biting her bottom lip when his eyes drifted down her body. His finger pinched the fabric of her top near her left breast, and tugged down. Piti felt the folded fabric slip away from the underside of her boob, and she smiled, feeling her cheeks flush.

“That’s been bugging me,” he said, his hand sliding under her shirt. She pressed closer to him as his hand warmed her up, making her body shiver with his touch. “Your tits are distracting.”

“I know they’re cute.”

“Let’s see how cute,” he replied, grinning. His fingers grasped onto the front hem of her shirt and pulled it up. He groped her left breast, his fingers pinching her nipple. Her core flared with a deep heat, and she squeezed her thighs together. “If you become a CamGirl, you better charge top dollar. Your tits...your breasts...titties of a Goddess.”

“You’re such a cornball,” she said with a chuckle, scrunching up her face as she shut her eyes. He gave a gentle, low guffaw. A wet, slick sensation pushed up against her right nipple, and her gut felt a hot pressure release heat into her body as a sharp pinch hit her nipple.

She opened her eyes and raked her fingers through BX’s hair, watching him lick and suck on her breasts. As his mouth moved to her right breast, he fondled her left with his hand. She moaned out his name, pulling him closer against her. His body felt so good against hers, she wanted to melt into him.

“Want to fuck?” she asked, cupping his face into her hands. She pulled him up to look at her face, forcing his tongue away from her hardened nipple. “Please, Gon?”

He gave a gentle chuckle as he tilted his head down to plant a kiss onto the side of her neck. She shut her eyes, savoring the deep, calming heat his lips gave to her body every time he kissed her. She ran her fingers through his hair again. A low groan reverberated into the center of her chest as he kissed her there.

“Should we take things into the bedroom?” he said softly, making her face flush as he sat up straight. He pulled her body up against his. He touched her chin with his thumb and forefinger, pulling her face close to his.

“Yes, please,” she answered, nodding before he gave her a gentle kiss. Her body lit up, and she pulled forward, deepening their kiss.

He broke the kiss, and caressed her cheek with his thumb as he cupped her face with one hand.

“You’re cute when you say please.”

She took a deep inhale of breath as her hand reached to touch his groin. He groaned, and then tilted his head down to kiss her. They groaned into each other’s mouths as she applied pressure onto his cock, rubbing up and down his growing erection. One of his hands grabbed her breast, squeezing it and flicking her engorged nipple.

Pushing him away, she stood up as she took her top off. She slipped her shorts off and tilted her head to her left before turning away from BX to walk to her room. She bit her bottom lip as she heard him get off her couch, the sounds of his belt buckle unfastening ringing loudly in the quiet apartment. She giggled, trotting to her room as she heard the heavy steps of BX’s behind her.

“Really?” he said with a huff. “You’re going to make me chase you?”

“You’re so stressed you didn’t even see me showing my ass off to you,” she called out behind her as she jumped into her bed, the springs to her mattress squeaking as she reached to her night stand to turn the lamp on.

“I’m sorry,” he said, walking into her room with his sweater in his hands. He stopped at the foot of her bed, tossing his sweater to the floor. Her cheeks flushed and she felt adrenaline rush up her body as BX looked at her on the bed. “You’re beautiful.”

“And you’re hot,” she replied, standing on her knees, reaching over to grab his hands. “Come on, Gon. Please? I’ve been so horny for you.” “You’re horny for me?”

He gave a guffaw as she laid down onto the bed, letting him go. She shut her eyes and sighed loudly, resting the back of her curled fingers against her temples. She’d never had a partner stop to make jokes as she was naked in bed, begging him to fuck her.

The springs of the mattress squeaked and groaned as BX got into bed with her. Goosebumps formed up her legs and arms as she felt his body over hers, his left knee pushing her legs open. She gasped, opening her eyes, when she felt his hands grasp onto her wrists. Blood pumped furiously at her throat as he pressed her arms down into the mattress.

“So,” he asked softly as he looked down at her, his eyes moving up and down her face, “what will it take for you to call me again?”

“Gon?” she said against his lips as he pressed his lips over hers. She shut her eyes as his lips moved to capture hers. His thigh pressed up against her, and she moaned into his mouth as his thigh continually pressed up against her, the pressure of his thigh muscles flexing against her folds sent sharp heat into her body.

She breathed heavily through her mouth when he released her lips. His lips landed on her neck and his teeth nipped at her sensitive skin before licking and kissing the sweat off her neck and jaw. She took a sharp inhale of breath as his fingers tightened their hold on her wrists, her skin aching. The familiar wet sensation of BX’s tongue licking her tits returned as she exhaled out a sweet moan.

“Oh my God, that feels so good, Gon,” she said barely above a whisper. She squealed out a frustrated groan as his teeth captured the engorged bud on her right breast, grinding his teeth back and forth. Sharp, mind melting jolts of heat hit her groin like lightning. “Oh my God! Gonie! Gonie!”

“Gonie?” he said, his teeth releasing her immediately. Piti took in heavy, shaky breaths, her body so hot and her nerves so sensitive, BX was one thigh flex away from making her come. He kissed her lips. “That’s cute, Piti. Gonie. I’m your Gonie.”

“Gonie,” she said softly, breathing heavily, “are we going to fuck? Please?”

He chuckled, his fingers released their grip on her wrists and glided down her arms to caress her breasts. She arched her back and shut her eyes as her pussy was aching for his cock, her core wet and warm. A sharp heat hit her stomach as his hands kneaded her breasts.

“I like it when you ask in a sweeter way,” he said. She shut her eyes as his hand groped her right breast, her body radiating with a frustrated heat.

“Will you please put your beautiful cock inside of me, please?” she said immediately. He kissed her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. The chuckles in his throat reverberated into her chest, sending sharp heat into her nipples.

When they broke their kiss, they sat up so she could grab a condom from her night stand drawer. She sat up in bed, and kissed his shoulder as she watched him put the condom on. He grinned at her, seeming to enjoy the attention. His hand stroked his cock before he laid down onto his back.

“What position do you like?” he asked as she laid down beside him, turning her body in toward his.

“Spoon me and play with my clit, please?”

“You’re so cute,” he said, his eyes lighting up as he smiled from ear to ear. “I like it when you say please.”

He kissed her before letting go of her so she could turn around to face her back to him. She felt a shiver ride down her body as his sweaty front came into contact with her back. His tongue licked her earlobe as his hand massaged the inside of her thigh, pulling her to lift her leg a little. She rested her head onto the pillow under her as she felt him enter her from behind. The kiss he planted onto her neck made her give out a gasp. His cock pulling the walls of her pussy apart caused her nerves to dance wildly, making her skin light up.

“Gonie,” she gave out a soft moan as she felt his hand fondle her breast.

He pushed in deep, and she gave a loud exhale. She grunted as he began to push in and out in a slow, deep rhythm, making her feel every motion of his cock. Desperate squeaks escaped her lips when his cock twitched inside of her as he paused, balls deep inside of her.

“Fuck,” she breathed out as BX’s hand moved between her legs, and she felt two of his fingers press against her clit.

She wriggled her hips against him as his fingers drew circles around her clit, and then spread to glide down against her labia before going back to draw circles around her clit. Her mind was spinning, like she’d ridden on a roller coaster where her legs dangled in the air as the giant machine she was strapped to made a giant 360 degree loop. Trying to focus, she thrust back as he pushed his hips toward her.

“Fuck,” it was his turn to swear. He groaned as he began to pick up a faster pace. She couldn’t keep up and shut her eyes as she threw her hand back to grab his hip to feel steady. Her fingers dug into his wet, soft flesh as he continually rutted into her. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

“Gon,” she panted out, “Gon! Gonie! Fuck me just like that.”

“It feels good when you squeeze on my cock,” he said against her ear as his fingers flicked her clit up and down. The sensations of sweat gliding down her back and chest overcame her as her mind went through another 360 degree loop. Her cunt clamped down on his cock as his fingers played with her clit. “Fucking hell, you’re going to make me come.” The bed springs squeaked and groaned in a furious, erratic rhythm as his fingers left her clit to grab the back of her thigh to push in deeper.

“Gonie, I’m gonna come,” she said desperately, her face unbearably hot. “You’re fucking me so good, Gonie. Your cock, Gonie!”

He guffawed, clearly on a high at her praises, keeping his fast pushes going. His fingers gripped onto the back of her thigh before gliding to grope her ass. Finally, his fingers returned to her clit, and she immediately lost herself. Three fingers rubbed against her clit before he captured her engorged bud between his forefinger and middle finger and pulled, milking her clit.

Champagne gold fireworks exploded before her eyelids as her body seemed to feel weightless, though she could still feel BX’s cock thrusting in and out of her. Her mind was spinning endlessly as her whole body tensed before an overwhelming calm overcame her, relaxing all the muscles in her body.

His hand moved up to massage her breast as he planted kisses onto her shoulder. His fast pushes continued as she turned her head over, opening her eyes slightly. BX bent forward and kissed her, closing his eyes. She gave a soft whimper as he gave a handful of erratic, sharp pushes into her. His tongue pushed aggressively into her mouth before he released her lips.

Spent, neither of them were able to speak, though BX withdrew from her. She shut her eyes and she listened to him move around, likely disposing of his condom. A low groan escaped her lips as she felt him spoon her, his lips warming her cheek.

“When can we do that again?” he asked into her ear, tickling her nerves and making her giggle.

--

Thank you for reading!

[isolemnlyswearpevensie]

Whisky and Cheap Wine | Edmund Pevensie x Reader Smut

Warnings: Smut, Oral, Losing Virginity, Mentions of Drinking, Curse words? 

Time/Era: Modern AU, Both characters are of age

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: Y/N and Edmund were high school sweethearts that broke up before going to university. When they run into each other at a mutual friends’ New Year’s Eve party, unfinished business and old feelings are brought to life.

Request: Please do a first-time fluffy smut where he’s super nervous but also very reassuring and sweet. Edmund would try to be so confident and snarky while secretly being a nervous mess.

A/N: Happy New Years! Ending the year with some smut hehe. Enjoy!

masterlist | read on ao3 | edmund playlist | narnia playlist

“So, erm, university going well?” Edmund spoke into his glass of whisky, scanning the room to avoid eye contact. His long, slender fingers grasped the fake crystal in such a way that it made the glass appear tiny. 

“Great,” Y/N responded, painfully aware of how her short skirt was hugging her ass. Edmund’s eyes followed the curve of her breasts down the slope of her hips against his better judgment. “Finished the semester with high marks. You?” 

Edmund choked, “Yeah, same. Just in visiting family for the holidays. You know how they are.” He peeled his eyes from the shortly hemmed material in favor of Y/N’s eyes. 

“How’s Lucy? I miss her a lot. Sometimes I felt like I had a closer relationship with her than I did you.” 

The pair shared a laugh. 

“She’s great. Torn that you didn’t come to Christmas this year.” 

Y/N took a sip of the cheap wine in her glass. “I’ll have to text her I suppose.” 

A tension-filled silence overtook the pair as they gaped at each other. Edmund had matured in the short months he was away; his jaw sharpened, his hair now fell in loose curls across his forehead and his muscles had tightened. Even the way he dressed changed. Where a beat up, old flannel once laid held a dark brown leather jacket that hit right above his hips. His beat up converse were exchanged for a pair of lace-up dress boots and his jeans no longer hanging off his body in favor of black skinny jeans. But, the smirk that plastered over Edmund’s features was the same sexy smile Y/N remembered. His eyes had the same mischievous glint to them, too. Oh, the hours she imagined looking down in between her legs and seeing those eyes looking at her. 

“Have you found anyone else?” Edmund casually asked, his hand now resting in his pocket. Y/N couldn’t help but notice how strong they looked. He brought his glass to his puffy pink lips and drank, caramel-colored liquid flowing down his chin. Edmund’s hand broke free from his pocket and ran his palm across his lips, a chunky ring brushing his soft skin. “Is that a weird thing to ask?” 

“No, it’s not.” Y/N tore her gaze from Edmund’s lips and cleared her throat. “I kissed a boy named Alex at a party, but other than that, not really. He was nice and cute and all, but he didn’t exactly do anything for me.” 

“No?” Edmund’s tone rose from casual conversation to somewhere between surprised and cocky. “Alex couldn’t compare?” 

“I guess you could say that. What about you?” 

“Not much time, pre-law is a bit harder than I anticipated.” He twisted the ring with his thumb and brought his glass back to his lips. ���Couldn’t get my mind off of a certain girl back home, I suppose.” 

“I miss talking to you. The number of times I had to stop myself from clicking your contact-” 

“- I would have answered, Y/N.” 

“Yeah?” 

Edmund smiled, “Yeah.” His eyes scanned the room before grabbing Y/N’s elbow lightly. “It’s a bit loud in here, let’s go somewhere quieter to talk.” 

Edmund’s rough hand guided her across the busy living room and towards the stairs that led to the bedrooms. 

“Here we are,” Edmund turned on the light of one of the bedrooms. “Caspian won’t mind us high jacking his room for a while.” 

Y/N took a gentle seat on the bed and looked around the room. It was simple and clean; much like how Caspian appeared in most situations. 

“Let’s hope not,” Y/N watched Edmund nervously wipe his sweaty hands on the front of his jeans. 

She paused for a moment, placing her wineglass on Caspian’s bedside table. Edmund threw his jacket onto the desk chair. “You look good, Ed. Never thought I’d see you in anything but straight leg.” Y/N gestured lazily to Edmund’s jeans. They hugged his toned legs perfectly and left very little to the imagination. 

“Eh, yeah, I figured it was time for a change. New school, new me?” Edmund’s pearly teeth shined bright as they came forward to bite his bottom lip. “You look as stunning as ever. Dare I say even more beautiful than I remember.” 

Y/N blushed and looked down. “Always such a charmer, Ed. I’m glad some things never change.” 

Ed took a seat next to Y/N and placed his whisky next to her wine on the table. 

“Why did we break up?” Edmund asks, his voice slightly strained as he spoke. “Neither of us wanted to.” 

“You said that it would save us heartbreak in the future. That we would drift apart anyway and that you wanted to set me free.” Y/N turned her head and watched Ed’s facial features change. His tight jaw clenched, his brows furrowed and his lips fell into a pierced line. 

“I was stupid. God, that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” He shook his head and made eye contact with the girl sitting next to him. “Being away from you only made me yearn for your presence more. Made me fall in love with you even more.” 

“I never stopped loving you, you idiot.” Y/N’s fingers brushed away a curl from his forehead to reveal a look of pure love and admiration. “You look so fucking good tonight, Ed. Like, Jesus fucking Christ.” 

He scoffed, “Says you! When you walked in the room it took everything in me to not tackle you to the ground.” 

“Tackle me to the ground?” 

“Shut up and stop raising your eyebrow at me! You knew what I meant!” 

“Make me.” 

Edmund’s eyebrows shot up and he glanced at the door before kissing Y/N’s lips for the first time in months. Y/N sighed happily at the feeling; after craving Edmund for so long, the sensation of his soft, warm lips were enough to make her body give out. She gripped his jaw in one palm and grabbed his silky black hair with the other, successfully deepening the kiss. Y/N could feel herself getting drunk off of the taste of coffee and whisky that was left on her lover’s tongue. 

Edmund’s fingers padded against the fabric of Y/N’s dress to distract himself from the ever-growing tent in his jeans. They had never gone as far as sex during their relationship, and since they were newly reunited, he didn’t want to test his luck. But, he had to admit, the feeling of Y/N pressed against his body and the sensation of her nimble fingers tugging at his hair was better than all of his fantasies combined. Edmund groaned into her mouth before he could stop it. 

Y/N giggled and moved so she was straddling his lap, both arms laid lazily across his shoulders. 

“This is new,” Edmund choked, shyly bringing his hands to rest on either side of her waist. 

“New year, new me,” Y/N responded, dipping down to press kisses along his neck. 

“Certainly- shit - certainly is new,” Edmund’s hips bucked to meet Y/N’s involuntarily, causing both to whimper. Y/N took this as a green light to start grinding against his now fully hard tent while she sucked Edmund’s hot skin into her mouth. On instinct, Edmund’s large hands moved to her ass, squeezing handfuls of her dress-covered skin into his palms. 

“Y/N,” He groaned, “Sweetheart- we’ve never -” He gasped and leaned his neck out further so Y/N could lap at his pulse point. “We’ve never done this before. Are you sure?” 

“What? I’ve never grinded on you before?” Y/N grinned into the skin and bit down lightly. “Cause unless my memory fails me -” 

“- No, you know that’s not what I meant. I meant have sex, love. I know we’ve gotten close but I don’t want to pressure you into it.” 

Y/N pulled away and looked at the deep purple bruises on his neck before regaining eye contact. 

“Edmund, I want this. Do you want this?” 

He smiled a lopsided grin, “Fuck yes. I’ve been fantasizing about this for years.” 

“And yet you’ve never told me of them? Rude.” 

Edmund grinned giddily and flipped the pair over so he was towering above her. 

“Well, I’ll be able to show you if you ever shut up, darling.” He grinned and grabbed the back collar of his shirt, pulling it off with one hand. 

His chest was mesmerizing; a few dark freckles littered his sunkissed skin beautifully and his strong shoulders flexed as he moved. He must’ve been working out during his time at university because a few veins protruded from his hand up through his forearm. Under Y/N’s hot gaze, Edmund shuttered but quickly recovered. 

“Like what you see, sweetheart?” He purrs in her ear and kisses her temple, his body now hovering over hers. 

“Since when did you get so… that.” Y/N ran her fingers across his collarbone and up around his neck to his locks.  

“I could say the same for you. What gives you the right to wear such a dress?” Edmund groans, “And to pull my hair?” 

“The hope of seeing you and the reaction I get from it.” She tugs harshly, prompting another deep moan to fall from Edmund’s lips. 

With one swift moment, he pushes Y/N’s dress up above her waist with a shaky hand. 

“Even planned the underwear, cheeky girl.” Ed’s mischievous eyes caught hers. 

Y/N grins bashfully and looks away. “I had to go to war with proper armor.” 

“That you did, baby,” He slinks down her body and rests his head in between her legs. “Now, these fantasies… I spoke of.” 

Y/N hums, enjoying Edmund’s mouth on the inside of her thigh. “Mmmm, yes, seems like we share a few.” 

Inch by inch, he licks and kisses his way up her inner thigh to her desperate pussy, growing more eager to devour her as each second passes. He can see how wet she is through her soaked underwear, making his mouth water at the thought. 

“Please,” Y/N moans, hands gripping in his hair once more. He looks up from in between her legs and grins, eyes hooded and smirk lopsided. Whether he was stalling or teasing, Y/N didn’t know. 

In one fluid moment, Edmund licks a stripe across her clothed heat. Y/N’s body arches up at the sensation and she tugs at his hair. 

“You’re going to be the death of me, Y/L/N,” Edmund groans into the material. His first two fingers hook under the fabric and he pulls it down. “There she is.” 

“Edmund, I swear to god.” 

He ‘tsks’ and shakes his head, eyes teasing and lustful. “Patience, darling. I’ve waited years for this. I’m going to take my time.” 

Edmund continues to bite and suck on Y/N’s inner thighs as he watches her get wetter and wetter, and hears her get breathier and breathier. His hands shake as he ponders how to go about giving head. 

“Fucking hell, just do it!” 

“Your wish is my command, Princess.” 

Edmund begins with slow, sweeping motions across Y/N’s clit. He laps up all of her wetness, humming contently as he tastes her on his tongue. Soon, his tongue circles her sensitive nerve barely brushing against it, making her back arch sinfully. Edmund devours her as if she were his last meal; his huge hands wrapped around her hips to keep her in place. 

Inserting his middle finger inside of her, he curls his finger upward into the rigged flesh of her gspot. His honey-colored eyes watch as Y/N mewls in place; one hand in his hair directing his head in circles, the other gripping the headboard, eyes screwed shut and mouth wide open. He releases a deep, sultry moan seeing the pleasure he was giving his love. 

“Feel good?” He asks, unsure if what he was doing was satisfactory. She nods quickly, shoving his face back down. 

“Another finger, Ed,” Y/N gasps, grinding her hips to meet Edmund’s warm tongue. “Please.” 

Edmund pulls out of her completely, only to add his index finger next to the middle. 

“Good girl,” Edmund’s voice was raspy and full of sexual desire. “You gonna cum for me?” 

“Close, don’t stop, please. Y- Yes! Just like that. Don’t stop.” 

Edmund closed his eyes and bobbed his head against her, soiling his nose, cheeks, and eyelids with Y/N’s arousal. His fingers curled inside of her at a quick pace and his tongue swirled against her clit. 

Edmund had never seen Y/N - or anyone - cum right before him. So, when she did, it was the most magical experience of his life. The dirty sound of her screams, the feeling of her clenching around his fingers, the way his name fell so sinfully from her tongue made his dick twitch in his boxers. He could only imagine what her tight pussy would feel like around his needy cock. 

Ed moved from between Y/N’s legs and kissed her on the mouth, hard. His lips were exactly what she needed and the taste of herself on his tongue made her pussy clench all over again. Her shaky hands found the zipper of his jeans and hastily pulled them and his boxers down. 

Y/N brought Edmund’s hard cock into her hand without breaking the kiss. Edmund moaned and bucked into her hand as she pumped and ran her thumb against the swollen, red tip. 

“I need your cock inside of me, Edmund. I need to feel you. Please.” Y/N whimpered, hand jerking faster. 

“Fuck, okay,” Edmund groaned, leaning back and pushing a hand into the back pocket of his jeans. 

“Seems as though I wasn’t the only one who came prepared,” Y/N giggled, taking the condom and ripping open the package. 

“I had to go into war with the proper armor.” Edmund bucked into Y/N’s hand as she rolled the condom on. 

Edmund lined up with Y/N’s entrance and pushed halfway in, resisting the urge to push further. 

“Fuck, more, Ed,” Y/N moaned, throwing her leg over Edmund’s shoulder. He shut his eyes and bottomed out, before pulling out and thrusting in again. 

“Y- Y/N, you feel so good. B- Better than I could have imagined- fuck.” He gasped, finding a comfortable speed. Y/N’s core tightened, building from her first orgasm. Her eyes rolled back and she swore she started to see stars. 

Edmund’s fingers found Y/N’s clit a few strokes in, instantly increasing Y/N’s pleasure. 

“I won’t last,” Edmund grasped, harshly rubbing Y/N and keeping his thrusts even. 

“Good, go faster, please.” Y/N puled Edmund’s lips to hers. 

Y/N’s orgasm was better than the last. Her core tightened against Edmund’s cock delightfully and her teeth ground into Edmund’s bottom lip. At the same time, Edmund was riding out his own orgasm, basking in Y/N’s cunt tightening around his cock. 

“Holy shit,” Edmund murmured as he pulled out and sat up on his knees. 

“Yeah, holy shit.” Y/N laid limp, giggling at Edmund’s messy hair and flushed face. “Let’s never break up again, yeah?” 

Edmund sent one of his famous smiles Y/N’s way. 

“Never again.” 

[carpsurprise]

sam stans i come.. bearing a gift.. sooo..

plot: the farmer teaches sam how to plant flowers, despite his clumsy nature

word count: 1.9k

notes: once again, gn!farmer. this is.. way more than i usually write but i felt particularly inspired... and we all know i love sam, put under a read more bc it is a little long. i’m also posting this on ao3! don’t be surprised if another sam writing comes up soon... 

A quiet sigh left the farmer’s mouth, their eyes focusing on Sam’s clumsy, gloved hands handling the delicate flowers. He tipped the young flowers from their nursery containers with care, mindful of the placement of his fingers against the dirt and the positions of the leaves. The empty nursery container was thrown haphazardly on the ground, making the farmer’s eyebrow quirk for just a moment before returning their attention back to Sam. With the young flower held in both of his hands, he shot the farmer a nervous glance.

“Heh,” he chuckled, heat starting to creep up the back of his neck, “thought you bought seeds from Pierre? I didn’t think you’d plant already blooming flowers.”

The farmer shrugged. “They’re still nice. Besides, those are more for decoration than anything— and you asked me to teach you to plant flowers, didn’t you? Teaching you to plant a seed would take a moment.”

“I guess so,” he muttered, still nervously holding the formed potting soil. “Now what do I do, stick it in the ground?”

“You could, or,” the farmer held Sam’s hands gently, allowing him to hear his own heartbeat in his head. The farmer helped support the stem of the plant, gently kneading their thumb and the inside of their pointer finger along the potting soil. The roots of the plant had finally appeared in a jumbled mess. “See, you want to spread out the roots a little so it can get water easier.”

Sam nodded with a dry swallow, watching the farmer’s eyes focus intently on the roots of the flower. They continued, “You want to be super careful, though, they’re very delicate. Just a gentle little touch will be good to separate them out.” 

A few clumps of dirt had fallen from the plant, landing on Sam’s lap and rolling off his thighs back to the earth. The farmer didn’t seem to mind the dirt that covered their legs. He directed his focus back to the flowers in front of him, and off of the farmer’s legs. Sam mirrored the farmer’s actions with his own gloved thumb, trying to smooth out the roots as gently as his clumsy hands would allow. It was funny, he thought, that he could master guitar strings flawlessly, but at a moment of tender precision he seemed to become nervous.

“Mm, that’s good!” The farmer exclaimed, slowly retracting their hands from Sam’s. “Now gently place the flower into the hole we made,” they directed, holding the sides of the parted dirt as Sam lowered the new flower into its forever home. He let go of it with slow hands, helping the farmer pat the parted dirt into the open sides with one hand. Sam let out a breath, retracting himself from the planter box.

The farmer let out a breathy chuckle, moving their trowel to their side. “This is usually relaxing for people.”

“I know.”

“You said you wanted to learn how to plant stuff because of your mom, right?”

Sam groaned, feeling himself get caught up in his own lie. “Yeah. I think it’d make her happy to know I learned, for some reason. I’m afraid she doesn’t think what I do for myself is very… useful.”

“But you’re a wonderful guitar player,” the farmer cried, turning their body to him, “and a wonderful song writer. You’ve got more talent than most in the valley, especially when it comes to music,” they smiled, making Sam’s heart skip a beat.

This is why he came to the farmer in a full sweat, red face, and nervous hands asking them to teach him how to garden. 

He grinned, instinctively moving his hand to scratch at the base of his neck. “Thanks, it means a lot—,” he interrupted himself with a startled gasp, feeling the remains of dirt on his gardening glove slip down his spine. He quickly pulled his hand from his neck, looking accusingly at the dirty, green and yellow gardening glove he had forgotten he was still wearing.

The farmer laughed at his mistake innocently, their shoulders shaking with them. It was charming for Sam, yet felt himself still chilled by the quick surprise of things running down his back. “I’ve forgotten I was wearing my gloves many, many times,” they laughed, “It sorta just feels like normal after a while.

Lifting their hands, also still gloved, they flipped them from the palm to the back of the hand. Sam admired the size of their hands, and the obvious wear and tear of the daily work they do written all over the gloves. 

“Need to get a new pair,” they muttered.

Sam had lit up, splaying his dirty gloves across his jeans without thought. “Oh! Let me buy you a new pair then, you know,” he began to fluster again. He stuttered out his response, weary of making his affections known too soon, “to thank you for teaching me how to do this.”

“Sam, you don’t have to do that. I had a lot of fun! Besides, I needed to do this anyway.”

Sam shook his head, grabbing one of their gloved hands. “No, no, please let me, and then I can get a pair that matches!”

The farmer was silent.

“... If that’s alright with you?”

The farmer snapped out of their little daze from his words, nodding and then reassuring him. Accepting his offer of new gloves, they promised to stick with the pair they have now until Sam came to the farmhouse with his gift. “Oh, Sam, before you leave can you bring home a potted plant for your mother? I’d like to thank her for the fertilizers she’s been sending me.”

He nodded. “Yeah, totally. She’d love that.”

Jumping up from their position, the farmer ran over to the side of their house, sifting through gardening tools and empty containers. They pulled out a weathered, but nice small pot. Sam watched as they dragged their hose out, rinsing the dust and dirt off of it before bringing it back over. “Here! I have no clue where this came from, but it’s nice and pretty.”

Sam agreed, immediately taking the trowel and shoveling dirt into it. “Ah, remember, Sam! Not too much dirt yet, we don’t want the roots exposed,” they instructed, causing him to quickly shovel out a little bit of dirt. He pushed the dirt to the sides of the pot, looking at the farmer expectedly. The grin on their face had made him nervous.

“You do it, Sam. I need to make sure you know how to do this, and I think Jodi will like it a lot more if you potted it. It can be a gift from the both of us.”

His fear of failure had returned to the center of his chest. Without another word he began to focus on the steadiness of his hands, removing the next flower from the container and carefully holding it with one hand. The plant  had seemed bigger when next to the others, but in his large hand it was evident it was still growing. His thumb and forefinger gently massaged the end of the dirt, staying mindful of the few roots poking out.

Feeling the farmer’s eyes upon his hands had made his heart pick up once again. He had always loved their eyes, especially when the sun hit them just right to show the beautiful color of— a slight crunch was heard. His right hand had immediately left the plant’s roots. 

The farmer laughed gently, placing a hand onto Sam’s arm. “It’s okay, it’s okay. Just try to be more gentle. It doesn’t look like you’ve pulled any roots out… completely. Just focus on the roots and your hands, don’t think about anything else.”

Easy for the farmer, he thought. Trying to keep his mind from racing back to them (who had seemed to scoot a little closer to him when he was focused on the roots, now that he was thinking about it), he continued to softly spread the delicate roots of the azaleas, looking to the farmer to see if that was sufficient. The farmer nodded silently, a kind smile on their face to encourage Sam. He placed the small flowers into the pot, still holding the stems gently with his left hand and using his right to pack in enough dirt to keep it steady.

He sat back on his heels, admiring the bright pink of the flowers and the white flower pot with baby pink swirls just around the rim. He had, once again, unknowingly placed his dirty gloves onto his jeans. He was expecting Jodi to be upset with him as soon as he enters the front door, but hopefully, with this flower pot in hand, she’ll excuse his messy day out.

“See? You did amazing!” The farmer praised, fluffing out the flowers by the stems. 

Their praise had made Sam’s fleeting worries of his mother dissipate, causing him to turn to them with a teasing look. “Yeah, except for the part where I nearly destroyed the roots of the poor thing.”

Shrugging, the farmer got back to their feet and lifted the pot with a grunt. “It’s fine, you did great anyway. Like everything else, it takes practice.” 

They grabbed another bag, along with their watering can and returned to Sam’s side. They watered the flowers immediately, then cut open the bag of mulch and placed a thin layer over the wet dirt. Sam watched without question, watching their hands work around the plant and dirt effortlessly. The farmer’s moves seemed calculated, the only way Sam could relate or keep up was by comparing it to the movement of hands on guitar strings, knowing when to use gentle touch or a moment of pressure.

They pulled back, swiping the palms of their hands together to brush off any loose dirt from their gloves. Sam should’ve been doing that the whole time. “Finishing touches are done! She’s already to head to your house, Sam,” they stood up once more, hoisting the pot up into their arms and ready to hand off to Sam. 

“Make sure it’s watered when the soil feels dry; and it can’t be in the sun all of the time, it likes some shade sometimes. The pot is sorta big so it’ll grow a little, but once it kinda grows out some of the leaves and flowers may start dying. Just pluck or cut those off and it’ll grow back.”

Sam nodded slowly, trying to repeat the farmer’s instructions back to himself in an attempt to not forget them. He knew the attempt was futile, but found that with every gray cloud there is a silver lining: he can always come back to see the farmer, just to ask for it again. He gave a nervous giggle, awkwardly trying to hold the gift for his mother.

“Please tell Jodi I said thank you, it means a lot to have help from the community.”

“Well, uh, if you ever need any help don’t hesitate to ask. I’m always here for you,” Sam said sheepishly, almost immediately regretting not omitting his last sentence.

The farmer grinned, waving goodbye to him. “I know you are, and thank you, too.”

He smiled back at them, saying his goodbye and heading back down the dirt path to town, praying that no one would see him struggling with the giant pot of azaleas, potted by him, for his mother. 

[toxicityriot]

Shishigumi Family AU Drabble:

Summary: Ibuki is up late at night, trying to wrap his head around the recent events of his (formerly) missing boss. Louis is awake too dealing with his own struggles and the lion comes to grip that he doesn't just see the young and stubborn buck as his boss or friend but as something more: family

Disclaimer: I've only seen the anime once and skimmed a few random manga pages to try and learn about characters (currently making slow progress on reading the whole thing online). I'm sorry if I butchered personalities and/or backstories in canon so I guess anything messed up would just be part of the AU lol.

Things were beginning to look like they were heading in the right direction. It only took about two months for things to start moving slow once more. Tensions have fallen and eased back into the normal casual lifestyle of the Shishigumi-or whatever the ‘norm’ for a ragtag group of lions keeping a rather taboo location in check. It was their norm anyway and they frankly did not care if anyone thought different. 

Despite the feeling of calmness washing over the rundown tower of a mansion, Ibuki could sense the underlying troubles that shook the members of the Pride down to its foundations. Even though the future was looking pretty good as of now, it had only just started to calm down after a rather devastating event that had even him sick to his stomach. He did not allow this feeling to really present itself publicly but he was still a bit shaken from the events that had unfolded a couple of months ago. 

It had started when the Shishigumi boss had run off, ordering his lion followers to stay behind. That it was his duty to help a friend. Normally, the lions would not care to meddle with high school drama or fighting students but with one of their own running straight into the snarling jaws of carnivores, it had them all worried. Ibuki could recall the sheer power and determination that blazed like orange flames in his boss’ copper colored eyes, mingled with the heavy scent of fear that radiated off his body like a furnace. A few of the lions almost broke their ‘promise’ to try and give their boss bacup after hearing about what this fight was about. But in the end, it was not their fight and they respected their boss too much to go against his orders. 

It had been a nerve wracking waiting game as the sun had slowly risen over the streets of the Market. They patiently waited for a sign. 

No calls, no texts, no check ins, and not a single letter. 

The Shishigumi boss had gone off the radar. Being an herbivore thrusting himself into a fight between two apex predators and had not returned, hope was slowly fading. By night three, the lions began to schedule patrols to keep an eye out for their horned friend, just in case. They kept their eyes and ears open in the market as well tracking any shipments of deer meat in the market just in case. 

By the end of the second week, there was still no sign of their missing boss and Ibuki had taken the role as the new leader of the Pride. It was heavily suspected that their friend had gotten too close to the deadly fight and had been devoured. It sickened Ibuki. He had grown fond of the deer and it devastated him to think of the outcome of that fight. 

Ibuki removed his glasses from his face with a sigh. It had only been about a week since Louis’ return and reassignment as boss once more. He could tell that whatever happened at that fight was troubling the boy. He never spoke of the full story in detail and that was his choice. He would respect that. The others did as well when they haute their poking and prodding but Ibuki had noticed that their were more changes to the former high school student than just physical. He noticed that he had slowly started to take better care of himself and was a lot more open on his thoughts and feelings than before. Even though these changes were not necessarily bad, it still left him in questions as to why. Louis had even halted his newfound carnivorous diet in favor of the much healthier greens he was supposed to be eating and gained a couple of pounds back in the process. He was still poorly underweight and underdeveloped for his age and species but Ibuki was proud to see the small glimmers of improvement in the field of self care. 

Small tap like thuds drew the old lion out of his thoughts as he redirected his attention to the flight of stairs. He had been so lost in his own head that he failed to realize that Louis was almost at the bottom of the staircase. He watched calmly as the deer slowly inched his way down, step by step with a hand on the wall for support, occasionally whispering small mutters to himself. Quite possibly cursing the terrible night vision he had as an herbivore. It was also good to see that Louis did not seem on edge at this hour of night as he seemed to have full trust in the Pride to not attack him when he was basically blind. A louder tap and a metallic thump let the deer know that he had made it safely down the stairs and with a flick of an ear, he adjusted his loosely fitted white shirt. Ibuki decided to make his presence known as he slowly strode towards the deer, making sure his footsteps were not light so as to not startle him. Wide unseeing copper eyes looked up and his head turned to the general direction of the footsteps. “Hey,” he greeted softly. 

Ibuki noticed the tiredness in the young buck’s voice and gave a small nod of his head. “Louis,” he returned the greeting warmly. “What are you doing up? With all due respect, i thought you would be asleep.”

Louis strugged a shoulder, not caring that the hem of the shirt has slipped over his shoulder. The lion could see the small white spots dotting the brown fur. He frowned slightly. He had only seen the fawn spots once before. Being brought up in the Market did its damage on the boy in more ways than one. “Couldn't sleep.” Louis slowly limped towards the kitchen, keeping one hand slightly away from his body to feel around his surroundings. “I could ask you the same thing.” The lion followed, impressed by the boy’s navigation skills. Even though he was relying on the sense of touch and his memory of the mansion’s layout, he seemed to be doing quite well in the dark. 

Being an herbivore living with a group of lions certainly had some of its perks. 

Ibuki observed the way Louis tended to keep most of his weight into his left leg with each step, putting only a small amount of pressure onto his prosthetic while he limped. He could tell the deer was trying to hide the limp but his efforts were not working well. He hung back a bit as he opened the fridge, squinting his eyes a bit to adjust his eyes to the sudden brightness that flooded the kitchen with a white glow, just standing there as if debating what his next move would be. The lion glanced down and noted how his left leg hovered about an inch from the ground and how he gripped onto the fridge for support. His ears twitched and his tail swayed slowly. "Does it hurt, boss?"

Louis did not reply. In fact, he made no indication that he heard the question but it seemed to snap him out of his trance when he grabbed a bottle of water. He closed the fridge and leaned his back against the door, twisting the cap off and taking a drink. Ibuki wondered if he hit a nerve. 

"Yeah." Louis responded after another sip. He sighed and looked down, slowly moving his right leg as if observing it. "Sometimes it's like I can still feel my hooves on the ground. Sometimes it burns. Sometimes its just numb. Sometimes it's a little bit of all." Pushing himself off the fridge, he screwed the lid back on the now empty bottle and placed it back in the fridge in a drawer that held his own personal food items and drinks. "I try not to think about it too often. Thinking about it only makes the pain worse." 

There was a long silence that fell between carnivore and herbivore. Ibuki, just standing near the doorway of the kitchen and Louis, leaning against the fridge with his head down, antlers making soft scraping noises as they accidentally brushed against the fridge door. He could see the boy's ears were drooping, his tail low, and his eyes nearly closed with a sorrowful expression on his face. So many thoughts must be lurking in his head, so many questions about life in general. It was one of the many things that had changed since Louis’ return. He seemed to be more readable than ever yet so unpredictable. In fact, he was always unpredictable, especially from the start when he took the first bite of meat at the table, asserting his growing authority over the lions who had watched his every move with wonder and some disbelief. 

Ibuki ran his hand through his mane as Louis straightened himself a bit. The deer came closer, keeping his eyes downcasted as he seemed to follow the sound of the lion’s breath. Ibuki watched with concern that melted into confusion as Louis hesitantly leaned his head against his chest, careful not to accidentally impale him with the sharp ends of his antlers. He stood there, immensely unsure about the gesture. It wasn't until Louis’ smaller arms held onto him that he realized he was seeking comfort from whatever was plaguing his brain. Inuki slowly lowered himself to kneel on his knees to reduce the massive height difference and returned the embrace gently, hoping that his act of affection and care would sooth the boy. It was just another thing that made its way onto the unpredictable things to come from the smaller animal. Hell, he never would've thought that he even liked hugs but this interaction proved him wrong, 

“I'm sorry,” Louis had whispered as he moved his head to rest his chin on Ibuki’s shoulder. “I was harsh on you guys. All you wanted to do was help and I turned your offers down. I should have let told you that i was still alive and-”

“With all due respect boss, i'm going to stop you right there.” Ibuki gently pulled Louis off on him and laid his hands on his shoulders, a soft look from his eyes even if he couldn't see it. “You don't need to apologize for anything. You were loyal to your wolf friend and helped him out when things got ugly. You put the ones you cared about first before your own needs and that says something about a person.” The lion smiled, gently scratching the fur behind the deer’s left ear. “You might have antlers instead of a mane, hooves for claws, and flat teeth in place of fangs but you damn well have the heart and soul of a lion. I dont think ive ever heard or witnessed another herbivore like yourself doing what you did back there. I know you made a remark about me not being your father but Louis...im proud of you, as if…” he trailed off, studying Louis' expression for a sign to continue. He could not see any negative thoughts or maybe even a furrowed brow of disgust. Hell, if anything, his expression was completely unreadable. 

He could not bring himself to say it, at least not yet. He just simply gave a small nod and a smile. “All that I'm trying to say is that I'm glad to have you back with us, Louis. You're always welcome here as our Boss, friend, and a part of our family.” Ibuki slowly raised himself back to his feet, giving Louis a playful rub between his antlers. “It was nice talking with you, son,” he added. He saw Louis’ ears perk up straight at the nickname. “ I'll let you get back to whatever you were wanting to do. I'll see you in the morning. Try not to stay up too late. You need your sleep.” As Ibuki made his way out of the kitchen, he could still feel the deer’s eyes on his back, following the movement of his departure as he made his way up the stairs for the night.

    Night had fallen and the morning had come. Ibuki was greeted to a rokous in the dubbed ‘recreational room’ as he watched the lions chat amongst themselves as they played a video game. He could pick out Agata and Free sitting on the floor in front of the television, Dope behind Free, Dolph a few steps away, Hino and Jinma watching every now and then as they spoke about their own thing, and Sabu crouched near Dope. Between Free and Agata sat Louis, the three of them going head to head in a heated game of Claws Of Duty on the TV. Ibuki did not exactly have the same interest in the video game but he took amusement in the younger members competing on who can score the most kills or who slaughters who first. He faintly heard Dope exclaim “kick his ass, boss” just before one of the sections of the screen displayed a kill animation for a round of bullets to an avatar's head, followed by Free’s groan of defeat in his loss and Agata’s laugh before he looped an arm around Louis’ neck in a celebratory semi embrace. 

    The eldest of the lions smiled. Things were indeed looking good for the Shishigumi, the band of mischievous lions and a theater performer of a young buck. He could not ask for anything better. 

[tomdiddlyumptious]

Can u do a dad Tom holland x mom black reader where they have a 2 year old son ( Elijah ) and a 1 month old daughter (Ellie ) and his fans are being mean because your baby girl is darker than her big brother and Tom tells them to stop on a livestream but they don’t and he takes a break because he more frustrated than reader is . And the next day y/n go to Toms parents house and y’all talk about it and y/n sobs ending in fluff

YOU WONT BELIEVE THE SWEAT I HAVE DRIPPED FOR THIS ASK, I DID DO A LITTLE OVERBOARD, NICE ASK, NICE COCK 👍🏽 OH AND I MADE A MISTAKE ABOUT THE NEXT DAY THING, I WAS CAUGHT UP IN THE MOMENT

warnings: I DONT KNOWWW, NO SMUT BUT SËX REFRENCES- FLUFF? AND CHILDRENN NOT PROOF READ BITCHES

T.H| TITTIESSSS

Tom smiled as he posted the picture, cuddling into his small daughter as you took care of your son. You both weren’t really doing anything just binge watching Soul Eater because you refused to watch love island.

“I don’t get this show, it’s terrible” “your terrible” you chuckled at him, noticing that Ellie was slowly starting to tear up. “I think someone’s hungry yeah? Come here Ellie” you cooed, Tom picking up the small child and placing her into your arms while he took Elijah, whos currently side tracked from TV, you pulled down your, Toms, oversized shirt to feed Ellie. Smiling as she sucked the soul out of you.

“You know-“ “we can’t have sex” “but Ellie gets to get your nipples and I don’t?” “Do you want her to starve?” “No I want to have sex” he clarified, rolling your eyes you placed some of her hair behind her ear.

Toms phone started to ding and he furrowed his eyebrows, he opened his phone and read the comments “it’s the girl being darker then the boy for me” “why is Ellie darker then Elijah?” “she’s a cheater- I told you Tom” and some trying to defend “y/n is literally darker then Tom, what did you expect? I’m so sorry this is happening” “did y’all really have to put the baby in this? We all know y/n doesn’t play about her kids”

“What’s wrong Tom?” You say, now playing with Eli’s hair. Tom only frowned at you “I’m tired of people thinking that they know most, at this point it’s really annoying” “what’s wrong Thomas?” You asked, more sternly as you pulled lee away, but she starts to cry some so you put her back.

“Nothing love, you hungry though?” He asked, trying not to make you feel anyway at the moment. “No I want you to tell me what’s wrong and right now Thomas, forreal” you made eye contact with him, raising an eyebrow. “I’m not telling you y/n” he simply says, getting up forgetting his phone and walking into the kitchen.

“I have to find out myself then!” You yell, taking his phone and scrolling through your guessing comments?. You aren’t the one to scroll through his phone at any cost because you trust him entirely, but he’s pissed and you need to find out why.

Patting lees diaper you sequenced you’re eyes to read the comments, zendaya saying “they are both so cute! Where have y’all been be seen I need to come over, like right now”, Jacob B commenting “look at lil man!” And others but as you continued to scroll down you found the negative ones.

Just reading them so fast as your blood line ran cold, you didn’t notice that Tom was coming back. “Y/n stop” he says, putting the glass of water down and reaching over Eli to take the phone but you snatched it back. “Is this what they think of me? Of my kids?” You say weakly, showing him the phone as your eyes started to water.

“Don’t listen to them, we brought Eli and Lee for ourself, not for them. Let’s just take a-“ his heart dropped as tears silently trailed down your cheeks, still reading the comments. “You are only making it worse, give me the phone Y/n” “no” “give me, the phone” he said madly, not at you but at others. He reached all the way over, watching out for the kids and taking the phone without a fight.

You detached lee and fixed yourself, lifting your knee and placing her on the pad of your thigh wiping your tears and you took her small hands.

Tom only through his phone on the nightstand and turned off the TV “what are you doing?” You ask him, “let’s take a nap yeah? I’ll when we wake up I’ll do a live or something to communicate with them” he took off his shirt and sat on the bed, sighing as you only seen the back of his head, he ran his hands through his hair, not letting them, his so called ‘fans’ get to him.

Tom laid down and threw the blankets over him, turning off the light and making it as dark as possible although it was only about 1 in the evening. “I don’t think I can go to sleep” you say as he turns in your direction, “then try darling, I really don’t want us to be stressed out love” he gave a smile, playing the the loose curls in Eli’s hair while looking at you.

“Yeah okay” you nod, Tom taking lee again while you took Eli. Eli smiled as he gave you a slimy kiss “ew!” You smiled, you let out a sniffle and Eli frowned at it, kissing your nose. You giggled and wiped it off, noticing an arm around your waist trying to pull you closer you came closer, Toms hand going down to yours and putting his fingers in between yours as you did the same and gave a squeeze. “I love you, y/n” he mumbles, his thumb brushing your knuckle. “I love you too”

“Ready?” He asked, you sitting next to him and the babies are sleep, you nod, “ready”. He started the live, about two minutes in everyone started to join. He took your hand and smiled down at you, returning it you kiss his cheek. Sooner or later he had about 6-9k and he cleared his throat,” I’m pretty sure you’ve all seen the comments and I’d like to ask all of you to stop” he simply asked, the comment bar flooded of hurtful words, they weren’t gonna stop anytime soon. “Lee is a child she doesn’t deserve to be treated this way, you not only hurting her your hurting my wife, MY wife” he pointed to his chest “you also hurting me, y/n doesn’t do SHIT-“ he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, rubbing his back.

“She doesn’t do shit but tries to show you how happy we are, for all of you saying that she’s cheating she isn’t, she’s been with me, do you see her skin?” He asked, looking at you and kissing your cheek “she has color, I don’t of course Ellie is going to be darker then her brother, they aren’t fucking twins!” He yells. He gets tired of it and pins one of the comments “maybe you should stick to your color and this wouldn’t of had to happen, you shouldn’t even be here”. “That’s the shit nobody should say, don’t talk to my wife like that you fuckin-“ “that’s it Thomas you asked, calm down” you whispered, his face red as his jaw is clenched, he bites his lip as he apologizes “I’m sorry, but please I just- I’ve worked so hard and found love, I found a wife. It makes me mad that you can’t accept that-that I can’t be happy without one paparazzi and news about me, I want a break and I want a family, and now that I have one none of you support me- or most” he refused to cry infront of them but is was heart clattering. “I-bye” he simply says, grabbing his phone and ending the live.

“You did your best-“ you get cut off by his phone ringing. His mom was calling, he instantly answered “yeah mom- yeah” he sighed “alright we’ll be over”. “They want us to come over” he stood up and took your hand, pulling you up with him he gave you a peck on the lips. “I love you Thomas” you wrap your arms around him. “I love you to, and I’m not going anywhere”

You and Thomas walked to the door with one car seat each in your hands, he knocked on the door and was instantly met with Sam “hey! Give them here-“ “wait give me lee!” Harry said, running up and taking the car seat from your hand making you laugh, Sam took the other and they both walked off to the kitchen with distant talks like “please be my taste tester” “I wanna take photos with you!”

Tom put the keys in your back pocket, walking in he called for his mom and she told them both to come to the livingroom. As you both walked dom sat up and gave you a hug while Nikki gave Thomas a hug. “I’m so sorry about those twats, your children are so beautiful” he rubbed your back slowly.

“Thank you” you whispered, hugging him back tightly. He let you go and rubbed your arms as he gave you a sweet smile, soon treading and Nikki gave you a hug “I love you and your children, we both support you so much and want you to know we are here for you, come sit” she stops hugging you and takes your hand, pulling you to the couch.

Tea was on the white coffee table and you and Tom sat on the mint grey couch, the couch you don’t touch if you live there. “It’s just-“ you sighed, Tom rubbing your back as you fought the tears. “I love your son so much and to think that I would ever hurt him-or you guys in anyway is just so hurtful, and having the pressure of everyone going against me and our child- comparing them as if they can stick up for themselves” you cried, you didn’t fight it. They are your family now, and forever will be. Tom didn’t like seeing you cry at all, it almost makes him cry, seeing you weep and vulnerable isn’t well for him because when he met you you were a strong, independent woman, and you still are but it hurts him too much.

“Yeah” dom nods, passing you a tissue and Tom takes it, pulling your face to him and patting under your eyes. “But they don’t matter, we are your family and we know from our hearts and our mind that you didn’t do anything wrong” Nikki weakly smiles, seeing you cry really is heart breaking, you just gave birth a month ago and depression is so severe. “We love you y/n, your child is our grandchildren no doubt” dom smiles, reaching over and holding your hand gently. “I love you, you are so important to me, our children are so important to me, just all of us in general are so important to me, so important that I’d quit anything for you, for my children, it’s us, a household, a family” Thomas pulls you close.

Eli saying “yum! YAY! More!” In the background with Sam making you laugh, he ends up running to you with a spoon filled with pasta. “Taste! Yummy!” He smiles at you, his baby face and small teeth “hurry mommy!” You smile and open your mouth Eli feeding it to you and you hum in satisfaction. “It is yummy, who made it?” You asked, “I did! I helped sam” Sam walked up to the livingroom, leaning on the wall. “I’m coming!” Harry yells, airplaning lee into the livingroom “pshhhhh” Harry does sound effects, lee laughing making you all smile. Eli jumps in your lap and looks at your face “why are you crying mommy?” You let out a chuckle “because I love all of you” “love you to mommy” he hugs you, Harry handing lee to you and hugging her back, Tom joining as Sam walks closer and sits next to you, resting his head on your shoulder and soon everyone is group hugging. “Umm- your squeezing me!” Eli whispers, everyone laughing as you all just take in the whole thing, happy that this is your new family, other then your other precious family also.

[avengerscompound]

The Tower: Family - 23

The Tower: Family An Avengers Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Pairing:  Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 1945

Warnings:  Pregnancy, smut (MFF bisexual threesome, Vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, oral sex, electro stimulation, the use of wanda’s powers in a sexual way)

Synopsis: With new powers, Thor now living on Earth full time, a wedding to plan, and Natasha and Wanda expecting, a lot is changing for Elly and her large and rather unconventional family.  When Elise’s parents try to reestablish connections, Elly questions what being a family actually means.

Chapter 24: The Photoshoot

The baby shower that had been strictly no gifts had ended up with a handful of gifts anyway.  They were mostly clothes - though Sam’s sister bought a breast pump that she had sworn by, while Loki and Angela had brought protective totems from Asgard.  There were a few plush or little wooden toys from people too.  Rhodey had bought all the kids, starting from Riley and Pietro, Cat in the Hat t-shirts.  Riley’s was labeled Thing One, Pietro’s Thing two, and then there were four tiny baby t-shirts labeled things three through six.  Phil got a little bundle of onesies that had funny little round cat-like blobs on them and the slogan ‘I love all my mommies and daddies’.

The party was fun but exhausting and Wanda, Natasha, and I all ended up going to bed early that night and sleeping right through.

Afterward, Wanda was very excited about doing a pregnancy photoshoot.  It wasn’t too hard to convince Natasha to in the end.  Partially because the pregnancy had been going so well for her and she wanted to commemorate the time she finally got past everything the Red Room had done to her.  But mostly it was just because she loved Wanda so much and she wanted her to have anything that made her happy.

We all headed out to the Avengers facility in upstate New York for the photos.  It was surrounded by forest and by the river so that we could give Wanda the full Earth mother vibe that she’d been cultivating.

We had three ideas in mind.  One was outside and two would be in the old house.  We started with the tamest version.  Wanda, Natasha, and I all put on long, flowing georgette gowns, our hair loose, with flower crowns.  Wanda wore magenta with matching roses, Natasha - black with black orchids, dotted with red poppies, and I wore a sky blue with delphinium and sea holly.

We were going with a family shoot to start with so everyone else wore white linen.  The kids both had baby’s breath threaded through their hair and were very excited to be out in the woods with the family and the dogs.  We did photos of them kissing tummies.  Of our whole group walking in a line through the woods with Wanda, Natasha, and I in the middle.  All of us lying in the grass everyone cuddles up to the three pregnant women.  Photos of hoards of hands on bellies.   All the standard pictures you see when you think of pregnancy photoshoot in the woods only there was a gaggle of us.

When the kids seemed to grow bored of the photoshoot we all headed back to the house so Wanda, Natasha, and I could change and they could play with the toys they hadn’t seen for the last month since we’d been back.

Wanda, Natasha, and I changed into lace gowns the same colors as the others.  These weren’t normal lace gowns though.  They were strapless, and while the empire cut bodice was solid the skirt was completely transparent and opened right down the middle exposing our bellies.  We paired the dresses with lace boyleg panties.  Wanda wore black, Natasha red, and I wore white.

We stayed inside for these photos and posed in sexier and more intimate poses with each other.  We would drape ourselves over couches and the bed.  We cuddle up to each other and put our hands on each other’s exposed bellies.  There were photos of us kissing and caressing each other.

Finally, we stripped down to our underwear for the last part of the shoot and hopped in a tub with milky white water together.  The photographer decorated the outside of the tub with flowers and candles and floated flowers around us in the tub, so the three of us were all floating, with our heads on the edge and our bellies poking out of the water towards the middle, our legs tangled together in the water.

By the time we were done, I was pretty tired and hungry.  We changed into sweats and ate with the others before the three of us went to take a nap.

I woke up to a shift of the bed beside me as the whole thing swayed.  I opened my eyes as whoever had climbed into bed with us wrapped his arms around me and turned to see Thor.  Natasha was already gone and Wanda had started to stir beside me.

“Good evening, my queen,” Thor said, kissing my neck.  “I was sent to wake you up.”

“You gonna do it by getting me all worked up?” I complained, backing my ass against him.

“You’re always waking us with kisses and soft touches,” Thor said.  “I was merely returning the favor.”

“You’re not an overly hormonal pregnant woman,” I huffed.

“No, that is true,” he chuckled.  “I am a man though.”

I started giggling and Wanda moved closer to us.  “What’s happening?”

“Dinner will be served shortly,” Thor explained.  “I was sent to come and wake the both of you.”

“By getting me all turned on,” I pouted.

“I can tell,” Wanda teased.  “Which isn’t helping me at all.”

“I am sure I can help both of you with your problem before the meal is served,” Thor said as his fingers traced over Wanda’s nipples.  “Who would like to go first?”

“Elise,” Wanda said, quickly.  “The two of you can bring me close before you touch me.”

“As you wish, my love,” Thor said, leaning over and kissing her deeply.

As the two of them kissed, Thor slipped his hand into my pants and began to slowly roll his hips against my back.  I could feel his erection starting to press into me as he rutted against me, but he took his time, teasing my clit and kissing the side of my neck.

Wanda leaned forward and kissed me, her lips parted as they brushed over mine, and I followed her lead, bringing my tongue out to meet hers.  I moaned softly into the kiss and ran my hand up into her hair.  She hummed and shifted closer, our bellies touching against each other.

She pulled back and lifted my shirt over my head.  As she did thor pushed my pants and panties down in one go.  He shucked off his own clothes and pulled me tighter against him, so his erection sat against my asscrack.  Each time he rolled his hips his shaft moved up and down the crevice.

His hand returned to my cunt as Wanda leaned down and pulled one of my nipples into her mouth.  I mewled and tugged on her hair as my arousal started to seep from within me.  Thor’s fingers worked my clit quickly and with practiced ease, sending shivers running through me and making my whole body vibrate in anticipation of more.  A small spark danced off his fingertips, sparking against my clit.  I gasped and came then and there with no warning, jerking between them as my cunt spasmed.

Thor chuckled.  It was a deep booming sound that made me feel warm right to my core.  “That was quick.”

“You cheated,” I teased playfully.

“I am sorry, let’s see if I can do this properly,” he laughed, and lined his cock up at my entrance.

“Don’t do anything to hurt the babies,” Wanda said, looking over my shoulder at Thor.

“My life,” Thor said.  “I am a fertility god, I know what I’m doing.”

I started giggling but it was cut off by a gasp as Thor thrust into me.  He didn’t allow any time for me to adjust, he just began to thrust into me from behind.  Wanda resumed sucking on one breast and then the other.  She was feeding off both mine and Thor’s pleasure, and as we began to moan with it, so did she.

She flicked her wrist and a small ball of pink light ran down my skin, between my legs, and began to vibrate against my already oversensitive clit.  I mewled and jerked back between them, my legs trembling.  One of my hands tightened in Wanda’s hair and I reached behind me and gripped Thor’s arm with the other, tethering myself to them both.

“Oh god,” I gasped, quivering between them.  “Won’t last.”

“Whenever you want, Elise,” Thor rumbled as he continued to snap his hips into me.

I tried to relax, but my muscles spasmed and clenched.  I dug my fingers into Thor’s arm and he wrapped his hand around my throat and tilted my head back to him, fiercely kissing me.

Things became hazy and I couldn’t focus on anything except the building pressure in my cunt and the tendrils of pleasure that spread out from my breasts.  Wanda increased the buzz from her energy projection and moaned loudly as my cunt suddenly seized up.  I cried out, breaking the kiss with Thor as I came hard, shuddering between them.

Thor slowed his pace, fucking me through my orgasm before slipping out of me and climbing over us both.  He positioned himself behind Wanda so he was spooning her the way he did me, and cradled her carefully.  I kissed my way down her body as helping Thor undress her as Thor rutted slowly against her.  When we’d removed her shirt, I latched on to one of her breasts and sucked on her nipple, drawing a sharp gasp from her.  Thor pushed her pants off and began to slide his cock up and down her soaked folds.

I kissed down lower, over her baby bump where the strings of light only I could see connected me to both her and the twins growing inside her, and down to her cunt.  Thor adjusted her hips back and eased his cock inside her.  She moaned softly and I lifted her leg and began to lap at the place where they joined and up over her clit.

“Oh!”  She gasped and her hands tightened in the sheets.

“Are you okay, my beloved?”  Thor asked.

“Oh yes, Thor,” she mewled.

He began to thrust and I sucked greedily on her clit.  The flavor of her arousal filled my mouth as I lapped up her fluids.  They were musky and sweet and heady in a way that almost made me drunk on her.  Each flick of my tongue made her moan more loudly and she seemed to have trouble controlling her limbs.  She gripped at the sheets pulling them free from the edge and she kicked out, her toes curling.

Her clit began to twitch under my tongue as her breathing became ragged and Thor’s hips started moving faster, stuttering as he came closer to his own release.  I sucked Wanda’s clit into my mouth and flicked my tongue quickly back and forth over it and with a loud cry, Wanda came, her powers flaring out and engulfing us like an embrace.

Thor groaned and jerked up into her, releasing.  I could feel the pulse of his cock at the base against my mouth as he filled her.  Their fluids mixed together and leaked from Wanda down Thor’s shaft.  I licked up the cocktail of their arousal greedily and climbed back up the bed as Thor slipped from Wanda.

“Now, now, my loves,” Thor scolded, sitting up.  “We have to join the others for dinner.  You can’t go back to sleep.”

“Just five more minutes,” I joked, cuddling up to Wanda, making her giggle.

Thor gave my butt a playful spank.  “Come along.  None of that.”

Wanda and I got up, laughing as Thor helped us get redressed and we headed down to join the rest of our family.

// NEXT

[vminity21]

Even in the Rain | knj [Part 1]

Pairing: friend!Namjoon X female!reader, exboyfriend!Jimin X bakeryreviewer!reader, friendshiptolovers!au, bakery!au, forbiddenlove!au

Word Count: 18,482

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Warning(s):  foul language use, angst involving an ex-boyfriend, mention of alcohol on multiple occasions, mention of infidelity, mention of smoking, eventual smut (potentially in part 2), slow burn, taehyung and jimin are jerks in the story, based on the kdrama, Something in the Rain, i do not own the rights or the show; Rated: pg 13

Summary: Namjoon has been in love with you for what seems like forever. Despite you being five years older, him being your best friend’s brother, on top of your brother, Kim Seokjin, being one of Namjoon’s best friends- nothing will stop him from getting you to notice him, and he also will not let your relentless ex-boyfriend stand in the way of him winning your heart. You, on the other hand, an observer of bakeries notices the feelings Namjoon is starting to etch upon your heart; amidst this budding love, your mind is also confused upon the strange incidents happening between the bakeries planning to franchise together. But, who would want to jeopardize the businesses?

Credit to: @suhdays​ for such a beautiful cover!

The dreary clouds serenade the atmosphere with panging rain droplets while a faint brush of a sigh escapes your lips. Shoving loose hair from your ponytail behind your ears, you steady the umbrella above you- knuckles white from the grip you have on the handle. Once again, you’re scheduled to observe Jeon’s Bakery in downtown Busan- a thriving shop owned by the richest couple ever known, soon being passed down to their eldest son, Jung-hyun, whom you’ve had the pleasure of knowing throughout the years.

Stepping into the bakery- the cozy atmosphere brings a warmth you’ve been needing since you woke up this morning- shaking your umbrella through the crack of the glass door onto the sidewalk, you then return to face the dimly lit décor, leaning your umbrella along the wall. Aromas of freshly baked pastries waft in your direction while you inhale a hint of strawberry. Glistening sweets line beneath the glass cases while heated lights keep them appealing; the other side holds numerous cakes, decked with different colors or flavors- your stomach growling at the desire to purchase a treat or two before leaving.

“Ah, welcome,” Jung-hyun greets with a brief handshake and bow, though the nervous tension crinkles at the edges of his eyes. You, being one of the top members of the corporation, who franchises with Jeon’s Bakery, your reviews are very important- and, with the plans of opening another bakery along with a competing bakery on the other side of town, Jung-hyun is aware of the pressure his family line has to maintain a clean, yet successful business. Of course, with the hopes of the competing bakery, Ji Woo’s Café, signing the contract to officially set the opening date.

“How do you do,” you nod, hearing the padding footsteps of the employees rushing to stand at your presence. One, you recognize to be the youngest brother, Jeon Jungkook, folding his hands in front of him, while his eyes remain cast downward- brown hair swooping over his forehead while he timorously chews at the corner of his mouth. “My, how he’s grown,” you smile, his wide stare greeting yours with a timid bow.

“Just turned eighteen nearly two months ago,” Jung-hyun nods at his brother with pride before returning his gaze to you, “Next thing I know, it’ll be me handing the business to him,”

You can’t help the feeling of dread at how many years you’ve been a part of your job- essentially instructing cleaning reviews or food violations that are still not being met- and you hardly ever admit the gray hairs that you’ve remained to consistently pluck since your twenty-eighth birthday not too long ago. With a long glance around the bakery, you bring your clipboard forward while the click of your heels gives some sort of sound other than the rain prodding the rooftop.

“It is a bit dusty in this section here,” you run a finger over a shelf dawning coffee mugs and other trinkets, rubbing your fingertips together while an employee sprints with a damp cloth to clean the area you pointed out, “And the floor needs to be swept more thoroughly, I can see some crumbs even from this distance,” you hate sounding so nitpicky, but your boss Kim Taehyung, can be, and he expects a lot out of these businesses, so you maintain your duty in making sure everything is spotless, especially since you don’t want anyone, especially the Jeons’, to have to deal with Taehyung’s wrath.

Reaching the cold foods section, you tamper through the packages to check expiration dates, noticing a few will be out of date within the next week, “And, also, Mr. Jeon, make sure to check the expiration dates often, we want customers to be given exactly what they’re paying for without the risk of stomach upset,”

“Yes ma’am,” he bows obediently, while you study the rest of the store before turning to face every employee. A young girl, one who has avoided eye contact nearly your entire visit, cuddles into her thin sweater, your eyes falling to notice her open-toed shoes, “I know accidents may happen from time to time, but with heavy machinery, we use in the back to create such desserts, closed-toed shoes are a must,” though when first starting the job, you used to be afraid to single individuals out, with so many years of experience, it has become immune. “Let this be a warning, okay?” The girl nods in shame, though you give her a look of understanding.

One more detailed sweep, you give Jung-hyun a copy of the notes you made with the direction to continue his work. Reaching for your umbrella, you notice the heavy rain has died down to a soft sprinkle, and once the smell of the rain fills your nostrils, you still open your umbrella in an attempt to protect your outfit since you will be returning to work to finish out the day.

The familiar ‘ding’ of a text tone distracts once your clicking heels round a street where Jeon’s Bakery officially disappears behind you- retrieving it from your pocket, you realize it’s a text from your almost year-long boyfriend, Park Jimin.

Jiminie: ‘Dinner tonight? I think we need to talk,’

Just the simple text, with just a simple intent, with a simple meaning- or what is supposed to be simple- brings a strange feeling the moment you read it. Hardly watching the direction you’re heading, you’re very thankful when the ringtone assigned to your best friend jingles, prompting you to answer immediately,

“How, did you know to call me, right at this exact moment?” Your fingers feel ice cold upon your cheek once the phone is at your ear- and the tiny pain in your stomach is hard to ignore mingled with the bundles of nerves fluttering within your system.

“Glad to know I’m number one on your mind,” your childhood best friend, Monica, teases while a knowing smirk tugs at the corner of your lips. “I’m assuming something’s up?”

“Yeah,” you exhale, brushing past a few pedestrians while your eyes cautiously trail the sidewalk to prevent from tripping over something, “It’s Jimin,”

“Hm,” Monnie hums, the crunch of a carrot sounding through the staticky phone line, “Please tell me you two didn’t fight. Again,”

If the humiliation rising within your chest isn’t obvious enough, you squeeze your eyes shut momentarily, trying to suppress the memory of the past month or two within your conscious, “He’s been going on and on about that promotion,”

“And,” Monnie adds, “Let’s not forget you’ve made it clear that you’re not planning on leaving Busan.”

“I know, I know,” the solitude of the area you’re in seems silent, way too silent, and maybe it’s due to the budding sadness. Jimin’s job is wanting to take him to Seoul- nearly 325 kilometers away from where you’ve grown up- where you’ve held a successful job- and, where your family and friends reside. The two of you have been battling it out for what feels like too long, emotionally draining you just as evenly as the stress from your job, “I just wish he would just understand my side for once,” your voice is hushed as if he can hear you, Monica nodding on the other end though you cannot see it.

“Well, how about you change his mind,” a devious tone evident in her voice, “Give him something he wouldn’t want to miss out on if you catch my drift,”

“You are such a tease,” you shake your head incredulously, “But, you have a good point,”

“Uh-huh, when do I not?”

Sauntering minutes longer past the numerous rows of shops, you end the phone call with Monica before your eyes fall upon a small boutique with mannequins adorned in glimmering dresses poised behind the glass window. Maybe an ounce of hope decides to arise, especially the second it leads you into the shop, trying on a few dresses in the mirror until you’ve made your decision.

The dress hugs all the right curves while you run your hands over the fabric- loose curls tickle your shoulders, yet the dress is modest enough to leave mystery- leave eyes lingering whilst you walk by. Except, the moment Jimin takes a seat before you, across the table within your favorite restaurant, his eyes seem to pay more attention to his wine glass rather than sweeping you. His thick lips lay in an obvious grimace, disinterest in his expression to every word you say, yet you remain unaltered, showing him no sign of notice, until he interrupts you,

“I received news today,” he clears his throat, your mouth slightly agape while your eyes widen in anticipation for what he’s about to say next, “They’re promoting me. It’s official,”

“Oh, Jimin,” you breathe, though you’re happy his job is recognizing him for his outstanding work in his job field, you can’t help the sorrow plaguing you at what you know is considered the next step, “I’m so happy for you,” you feign enthusiasm, but he sees right through you, especially when his brown eyes nearly smother your gaze with disbelief, “When- when is the big day?”

“Two weeks,” He counters, eyes falling back to his drink, “Have to clean out my apartment, and leave within two weeks,”

“Two weeks?” You’re caught off guard by the sudden answer, not even giving you enough time to process, one- that your boyfriend of nearly a year will be leaving so soon whether you move with him or not, and two- the realization that maybe, no matter how hard you try to get him to understand you, he just simply won’t. “But that’s so sudden-”

“Just come with me,” he’s exasperated, waving a hand once in the air, “If you’re really as happy for me as you say you are, you’d come,”

“Excuse me?”

“What is it about Busan that you just can’t seem to let go? We will be able to visit family if that’s what you’re afraid of,”

“Jimin, we’ve already discussed this,” you run your hands over the bridge of your nose propping your elbows onto the table, while you try with all your might to calm the anger, “I have a steady job here, one I will not be able to transfer. I’m not ready to just give up my life like this, what part of that do you not understand?” You peer through your hands, “And, I mean, if there’s anything I don’t understand, is if you can visit as often as you say you can, then how come a long-distance relationship sounds so revolting to you?”

Frustration drips from him when he leans back into his chair, eyes scoping the side of the restaurant while his lips press into a firm line. A thought that failed to occur to you from previous arguments dawns,

“Wait,” you inhale, “Are you afraid… that you’ll start seeing someone else?” When he abruptly meets your gaze, your elbows fall to your sides, “Jimin?”

Shaking his head, “Forget it,”

“Then what is it?” You question, “If not that, then what is it?” Investigating his eyes, you’re nearly brought to your knees from the heartbreak wrenching within you, “If this is something that leaves such distaste in your mouth then why not just break up with me?” Without a second thought, you stand to your feet, not even sure how you’re able to with how your body is trembling, but you maintain your balance while you thrust your trench coat on, “You know what? I’ll do the honors,”

He follows you out the door in a mild panic, though he remembers to leave cash behind to pay for the meal. Declining the ride, he offers, you can’t even speak nor look in his direction, your heart-shattering in a million pieces especially when his presence leaves without even a speck of desire to fight for you. You’re rendered speechless the entire walk of the chilly night- shooting a text to Monnie to meet you at a local bar- her treating you to multiple drinks- gulping them down with the intention of drowning in your sorrows.

“Okay, I’m going to need you to stop,” she motions for the waiter to scatter any empty glasses he can before you down your final drops, “Besides, you’re the one who dumped him, so am I missing something?”

“No,” you drag out the word, your head dizzy from the heavy buzz you feel, “You and I both know this is something that’s not easily forgettable,”

“Maybe you’re right, but really, [Y/N], you’re going to make yourself sick,”

“And what if I do? What’s it going to change?” Your words slur, while you lean onto your knuckles- your eyelids squinted in a hazy glance. Mo’s concern is all you can envision while she lightly taps your arm.

“If he were worth it, he’d stay in a relationship with you despite any distance,” her voice softens, her turning to get you to rest on her shoulder, “Besides, if I were him, I wouldn’t have let you walk away, especially with how that dress snugs your ass,”

Cackles erupt from your throat while you lean more into her frame for comfort, “Shut up, no it doesn’t,”

Flabbergasted, she pulls away just enough to stare down at your glossy eyes, “Girl, you look like a twelve outta ten, would recommend, and any asshole would be stupid to let a dime piece like you go,”

“You mean it?”

“Of course,” she wraps an arm under your shoulders to help you steady on your feet, “Now, I’m going to take you home. Your brother is coming home tomorrow as well as mine, and the last thing I need is for them to smell alcohol on your breath,”

“But, but- I’m- I’m not done yet. Just one more,”

“No! Are you insane?”

“Monnie, please, just one more. Just one-”

“Drinking isn’t going to make Jimin’s absence any less painful, now come on, you need to get home,” Reluctantly, you obey, faltering into your home while your parents, who are retired, stare at you with mirrored worry, you immediately bowing in apology before stumbling to your bedroom. The following morning hits you like an ocean wave, your head thudding while you force yourself to sit up- the shower awakens you just enough for you to function, and the minute you’re dressed with a towel wrapped around your drenched hair- you open the door to be greeted by your younger brother, Kim Seokjin.

“You look like you’ve been trampled by ten elephants,” his arms outspread while you gasp,

“Seokjin! You’re home!” Crashing into his arms, he hugs you tight, the safety you feel with him finally returning home brings serenity to the household. You haven’t seen your brother in four years with him studying abroad in America, which reminds you that it must mean Monnie’s brother, Kim Namjoon, who studied the same program as Seokjin, is home, too- though you vaguely remember your best friend making that statement last night before taking you home.

Leaning back to playfully smack his shoulder, you tease, “Don’t think I forgot about what you just said a second ago! Remember, I am your elder,”

The familiar windshield wiper laugh sounds while his shoulders shake, “By what, a few years? And don’t think I didn’t hear about you coming home wasted last night,”

With a roll of the eyes, you hear your mother starting up food in the kitchen, “It’s complicated, but,” with a quick sweep, you notice, Seokjin is wearing an outfit as if he’s about to head out, a backpack still hanging off his shoulders, “But- wait, aren’t you staying?”

“Mom, didn’t tell you? I’m moving out with one of my past friends. Remember, Hoseok?” 

“Ah,” a lightbulb clicks, “The one whose parents own the competing bakery? The one we used to raid when we were children?”

“Yes, that’s the one,”

You remember Seokjin and Hoseok were thick as thieves growing up, so with a curt nod, you elbow your brother’s side, “Good idea rooming with him, but you better visit me. I literally haven’t seen you other than through a phone screen,”

“You know I will,” He promises, “No more phone screen,”

As much as the two of you love your mother, she can be overbearing at times- and, you can’t help with how hard it is to stifle laughter as you watch her pester Seokjin as he’s leaving, “Please eat once you get there since you won’t stay for the meal I cooked- and, please text me once you arrive- remain in good health for me okay- don’t do anything you will regret-”

Seokjin waves goodbye before your mother follows you to the kitchen. Of course, she isn’t going to ignore the incident of you rummaging to make a cup of coffee in an attempt to remedy the hangover you know you deserve after how much you chugged the night before. Unaware of the situation that caused your drunken state, your shoulders tense the moment you hear his name,

“I thought you were with Jimin last night? He’s never let you drink more than one glass. Very insolent of him if you ask me,”

“I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that anymore,” you mumble against the rim of the coffee mug.

“I guess I can forgive him this one time, invite him over sometimes so I can cook you both some dinner. It’s about time for you to settle down and marry-”

At this point, you’re increasingly aware of how late you will be to work if you continue to listen to your mom banter about your ex-boyfriend, one you can’t bring yourself to reveal in fear of disappointing your mother. Although, your father offers to give you a ride, you politely decline, making your way to the nearest station before sprinting into the building of your job.

From the poker face, Taehyung has while everyone files in to their seats, your coworkers LenLen and Shai take a quick seat on either side of you- Yoongi, handy with the technological side of the business gets the screen to load to where everyone can see it. Chairs turned in the same direction, you swallow nervously when a picture of what looks to be bags of flour are revealed to have picked up pesky moths, and the horror you feel when it’s the same store your brother’s childhood friend has grown-up knowing: Ji Woo’s Cafe.

“This,” Taehyung’s voice booms while gesturing toward the screen, “Is unacceptable.”

With slumping shoulders, everyone knows he isn’t wrong, but it’s the embarrassment of knowing this has been missed.

“Who is in charge of keeping up with this particular franchise?”

LenLen hesitates beside you though you’re of knowledge that she is, in fact, the supervisor of the Jung’s shop. You don’t even hesitate to stick up for her, promising you will get to the bottom of this ordeal being that you know the Jungs’ personally. The bus ride over doesn’t take long, but you figure it’s from the trepidation of having to face a family you haven’t seen in so many years over something that wasn’t necessarily in their control. When arriving, the first face you see is Jung Hoseok, messy hair frilly across his forehead with your brother rounding the corner putting on his apron. It takes a prolonged second for everyone to register each other’s presence, and you factor in that maybe they hired a moving company to assist in helping them unpack their belongings. Or, perhaps, Seokjin is staying with Hoseok’s parents for the time being until the two can find a place of their own. Either way, your eyes flicker between the stunned pair prompting you to clear your throat- pressing the tip of your pen onto the pad of paper upon your clipboard.

“Hello, Gentlemen, you may have been aware, but it has been brought to corporate’s attention about flour bags being infested with moths?”

Hoseok wets his lips, frantically looking over at Seokjin who shrugs his shoulders, completely oblivious to the scenario that may have taken place prior to his hiring, “Uh, yes- yes ma’am,”

“And please tell me such a discovery was not, in fact, served to our consumers?” Palms clammy, you’re surprised at how intimidating you can be but with the way Hoseok’s panicky eyes scream innocence, you know that he didn’t do anything of the sort.

“Of course not,” he stammers, your brother glaring a look though he knows you’re merely doing your job.

“Good,” you scribble a few notes of areas you noticed may need to be tidied up before handing it to him, “Just remember to always, always, keep things clean, and to always store packaging in the correct areas. I agree sometimes we can’t prevent everything, but from what I could tell from the picture, the flour wasn’t stored properly.”

“I’m so-”

Gesturing a hand to stop him, you continue, “No need for apologies, just make sure staff is trained to follow protocols. And if I overheard correctly, Jeon’s Bakery may want to franchise along with Ji Woo’s Cafe for the opening of the new store. If that’s the case, then everyone must be on the same page in order for that contract to be signed. Do I make myself clear?”

Hoseok timidly nods, you being grateful that customers haven’t waltzed in especially with it being close to afternoon; glimpsing at your brother, he swallows, nodding once in understanding. In this circumstance, guilt wedges in the crevices of your mind, especially with it, now, involving a blood relative who works within one of the stores your company partly owns. Coming off harsh isn’t who you really are, but the job forces you to be this way, especially when stressing the importance of cleanliness and statistics of sales.

You’re nearly lost in thought- reminiscing on unwanted memories of Jimin, avoiding the ache in your soul when you can’t remember the last time, you’d seen him smile. Blisters form on your feet from your heels, the pain thudding to the point you hardly notice the tall figure inching closer to your frame. In fact, you choose to ignore whoever it is, keeping your eyes ahead with the goal of making it home.

“Is that how you treat a friend you haven’t seen in years?”

“Whoa!” You jolt, whirling in the direction of the deep voice- heart hammering against your sternum while your hand flies to your chest. Dimples immediately appear in your vision while hearty laughter escapes the handsome face of none other than your best friend’s brother, Kim Namjoon. “Namjoon?” Your voice raises in glee, his trench coat loose on his frame, while his wide smile remains on his face, “How long have you been following me?”

“Who said it was me who was doing the following,” he teases while you open your mouth in fake offense,

“Kim Namjoon, yes you were!” Your smile hasn’t been so genuine other than when your brother returned home and reaching forward to playfully smack Namjoon’s arm, he promenades around you while he dodges your every move. The view to outsiders looking in would appear to be a happy couple especially with the way you chase after him, with the contrived promise of embracing him, when really you plan on tackling him for following you for however long he did.

The teasing soon leads to the pair of you agreeing to drinks and dinner- planning to catch up over the four years lost between your friendship.

“So,” your voice is chirpy after taking a long sip of your beer, the waitress settles the entrees in front of you and Namjoon, your elbows resting on either side of the plate while you peer at him over your folded hands. Seeing his face brings a spindle of turning memories- laughter with him and Monnie alongside you, getting into mischievous spouts, causing both pairs of parents in continuous bouts of worry- and the way his brown hair is neatly styled to the way his brown eyes study your every move, you are thankful for his presence, along with your brother’s, being returned to you, “Meet anyone you’ve taken a liking, to?” Namjoon’s only five years younger than you, but with the pressure of marriage being a thought- you’re uncertain if he’s tied the knot- or, more so, your question is directed to if he’s fallen for an American girl, something you’re curious to know about your friend.

A breathy laugh escapes him while he sips his drink, grabbing his fork to play with a vegetable on his plate, “Unfortunately, you’ve remained at the top of my list,” reaching for his drink, he lifts it toward you while you mimic his gesture, clinking them together while you shake your head at him,

“That mouth of yours is going to get you in a lot of trouble, you know that?”

“Can’t remember a time it hasn’t,” he takes a bite of his pasta while you conjure up another question,

“Are you ever planning on going back? To America?” Honestly, you’re afraid of the answer, because if he says yes, then that could mean Seokjin will be following suit.

“Actually,” Namjoon carefully places his fork back on the napkin beside his plate, running the back of his hand at the corner of his mouth, “I hope to live there one day. But that’s only for when Korea gets too small for me,”

“Does Monnie know?” Crossing your arms, your appetite is suddenly lost, for the time being, the subject of anyone else disappearing from your life for a while making you feel a small wave of nausea. Namjoon’s eyes flicker to his plate before returning to your gaze which gives you an answer without any words, “You know she cares a lot for you. She’s been talking non-stop about your arrival since you left.”

“I know,” his voice trails, while he clenches his jaw, “I almost didn’t tell her Seokjin and I were coming back,”

“What? Why?”

“I just didn’t want her to worry,” his long fingers grip the handle of his mug while he swirls the contents within it, “She’s already busy enough with work, and my coworkers I’ve returned to have done enough for me, and I don’t want her to feel like she needs to contribute anything,”

“That’s her choice to make you know. You’re her brother,”

“And I care for her a lot, too. Hence, why I refuse to stress her out regardless of my arrival,”

He’s always had this aura about him that you’ve admired since knowing him. The way he refuses to let his burdens be known to the people he loves- he doesn’t want to put anyone through the trouble that he feels they shouldn’t go through. He’s so young with so much to learn, but yet, he is the one that you look up to the most, physically and figuratively, “You’re a good man, Kim Namjoon,” you coo, “Since when did you grow up so fast?”

Tilting his head, he leans forward with a taunting smirk, “And since when did you start getting gray hair?”

Gasping, you grasp a bundle of hair between your fingers while your eyes widen at him, “You take that back!” You threaten, “Are you asking for me to dig your grave?” The laughter that builds between you two is much-needed medicine that you’ve been longing for, and as the playful banter simmers, he takes a bite of his food, dapping the napkin onto his lips before speaking,

“How about you, by the way? Is there a man whose ass I need to kick?”

Squinting at him, you carefully chew your food, “Plenty.”

Offering to pay the bill, he objects, you mentioning how his sister may be upset if she were to hear that, but you make it clear that you will treat him to a meal the next time you two are to hang out. The night falls quickly, the city lights distracting visions of the stars, yet Namjoon leads you to the direction of your home, making jokes on how you never seem to break rules- or, at least, ever since you’ve gotten “old.”

When the city continues to disappear behind both of you, his large hand gently grabs yours, “Follow me,”

“Hm, what? Where?”

“Must you always question everything? Now, come on,”

Muttering under your breath, you squeeze his hand in a way to show your trust, him spreading a wired fence while you squeeze through the opening, him turning to tangle the brush along the fence as if nothing has been disturbed. “Now, can you tell me where the hell we are?”

“Behind the library. Beyond that, passing the bus station is your home,”

“How-?” You can’t help the surprise, especially when your voice carries just enough to interrupt a couple lip-locked in the distance. You’re nearly floored when you recognize the coworker being LenLen while the male, she’s clinging to happens to have strands of blonde hair revealing the face of Min Yoongi. “Holy shit,” you whisper, though it’s dark enough for the couple to not be able to see who has disrupted their peace. They jog away from the scene, while Namjoon chuckles, you wondering how long this has been going on without the corporate’s knowledge, “How did you know about this shortcut?” You change the subject, gulping at the lump in your throat.

“Do you really want me to answer that,”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you glare a suspicious look, “Oh?”

“Other than sneaking kisses to impress the ladies, I also taught Seokjin how to smoke cigarettes in high school,”

“Nam. Joon! You rascal!” You gape in surprise, “I’m telling Mom,”

“Aren’t you too old to tattle?”

“Oh, you smart ass-” He dodges your raising hand as you chase him down, “Come here you brute! Wait till I get my hands on you!” His joke brings you back to the exposed couple from earlier, which then gives you a steady reason on why you should keep your mouth shut- if anything, you are too old to dabble in drama- and if LenLen has finally found a lover who potentially will be her forever- then you will leave it as is, despite it being a work violation of dating someone within the workplace. When the jog slows to a steady pace, your home welcoming your sight, Namjoon speaks,

“Not sure if we ever get lunch breaks at the same time, but if so, you may need to remind me of all the restaurants around here,”

“Is that so?”

“Unless you want to avoid your promise on treating me,”

“How did you know?”

Eyes locking, chuckles reverberate into the breeze while he shakes his head at you, “I’m just kidding,” you finally say once you regain your senses, “Of course, I’d love to. Just text me every day when you start your lunch break. If there’s a time I happen to be heading to lunch too, then we will meet up. Sound like a plan?”

“Sounds like a plan,” he nods, watching you sprint to type in the security code, you whirling around to wave goodbye while he returns the same gesture.

It’s crazy how beautiful you were before he left for America, and how you’ve remained with the same beauty inside and out as if he never truly left. Other than his family, your face never left his mind the moment he stepped off the plane- some may say it’s because your brother sat right beside him on the plane ride home – but, that’s not exactly the only reason.

Entering your room, your mother bombards you repeatedly with the same conversation on why you reek of alcohol, and why Jimin would let you take it too far. Openly admitting, you happened to be with someone else, your mother continues to pester on how you and Jimin need to find a compromise in order for marriage; how his family are known for their efficacious jobs, how they’re made of money, and that you would be a fool not to marry into his family. Making the excuse that you’re tired and ready for bed, she mumbles that you’re always tired, before departing your room.

Work comes with the presence of Taehyung telling everyone to go to lunch with him, all your female coworkers throwing excuses from left to right about how they can’t make it; which he demands you to join, your coworker Shai promising to tag along, so you won’t feel so alone.

Namjoon: 11:49am- Starting lunch, want to join?

Though you wish you could say yes, you avoid the text message. Following your coworkers into an elevator, surprised to discover Namjoon standing in the corner, realizing his job happens to be within the same corporation but deals with different topics. It’s awkward when your coworkers ask what food you’d like, which you say you’re not particularly picky, Namjoon shooting you a text in a tease of how your taste has even aged. You retort with a text saying to ‘Shut your yapper.’

A few days pass when you’re scheduled to visit another bakery within the city where Monnie sends you screenshots of Jimin’s Facebook page exposing that he has found another girlfriend- one he’s apparently been spoiling before his supposed trip to start a new life in Seoul. The pain seers through every inch of your chest, and it’s hard to recollect yourself enough to return to your job- admitting to yourself you probably missed spots that needed to be cleaned, yet the only tornado jumbling your thoughts are the haunting ones involving Jimin’s face- and the feelings of love you once had for him, vanishing in the blink of an eye.

“According to one of the captions, she’s moving with him,” Monica exhales, “Because dating someone for a week means you should follow them all across Korea. Honestly, [Y/N], I bet this is all a show he’s putting on, or maybe he really has been cheating-”

It doesn’t take long until a recent post is made with the location of their current date- sneaking into the parking lot, you hastily find the valet, asking for the number matching the parking spot where Jimin’s flashy car glistens beneath the starry sky. You’re uncertain of this feeling you hold, but with the anger bubbling within your pounding heart, you know you can’t let this go. The way this girl on his page praises his every move, you even noticing how young she appears, and the lingering fact of him taking her to places you’d always begged him to take you. Nor the pictures he’s flaunting of her that he never once did when he was with you, nearly brings you into a stream of unwanted tears. With all you are, you know it’s not fair. And for that, he needs to pay.

The valet hands you the keys while you ploy your happiest smile. Stepping into Jimin’s car, you pull out the gooiest lip gloss you never use, planting it beneath the passenger side along with the tearing of black pantie hose you purchased from a convenience store on your way here; even laying out a semi-tattered bra you’ve been meaning to throw away, but instead relics beneath the back seat of Jimin’s car. Returning the keys to the valet, you thank them before hiding into the brush a distance away from Jimin’s car where you watch the whole scene play out before you. Watching the girl stampede away while confusion is etched in Jimin’s staggered expression, as his mouth remains agape, doesn’t leave you with the satisfaction you hoped to gain. Instead, you find yourself sitting across from your best friend, gulping down an alcoholic beverage, her moving the glass beside her when she sees the way your eyelids flutter.

“Shouldn’t you be rejoicing?” She questions, your chest feeling emptier than it had before you gained your buzz, “You got your revenge for goodness sakes!”

“Oomf,” you plop your head into your palms before rubbing them slowly along your face, “It’s not that. I mean, Jimin got what he deserved, but that’s not the reason I feel like shit,”

“Okay?” Mo shrugs, “Then, what is it? I know I’ve pestered about your needing of higher standards of men, but really, [Y/N], you deserve so much more than a player like that,”

“I just,” you lazily sigh, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “I really thought I knew what love was, you know?” You pause, “With Jimin, the way we met, and the way we clicked at first… I guess I just don’t understand where it all went wrong. Or, what made us fall apart… Maybe, we were never in love after all,”

“Let me ask you this,” your best friend leans forward, playing with a loose string from her sleeve, she tilts her head while she investigates your hazy stance, “What is true love?”

The question isn’t one to shock you; it’s one to make you think, really looking into the depths of your memories to a person you may have experienced love with, and as your eyes flicker upon her face, the answer becomes quite clear, especially when you lean back, the realization bringing the truth you never thought you’d find, “I… I-I don’t know,”

“Exactly,” Monnie points a quick index finger in your direction.

“I’ve never been in love,” you murmur, trying to make sense of this, and wishing you would have realized it sooner.

“If you were in love with Jimin, you would have left Busan behind in a heartbeat. And, if Jimin really had been in love with you, he would have settled for a distant relationship until you made your choice. So why couldn’t either of you find a compromise?”

“Because… we didn’t want to,”

“Because neither of you wanted to,” Monnie smiles deviously before sliding your glass back to your hand that curls around it instinctively, “Now, drink up,” she says, refilling your glass to the brim. Light giggling sounds for the next hour until Namjoon walks in with the intent of checking on his sister. It’s a surprise when he sees you occupying the seat across from her, and as he teases lightly at why Monnie let you get so wasted, she then asks him to give you a ride home.

His heart flutters at the thought of once again getting to spend time with you but he refuses to show it in the slightest; hugging onto Monnie tightly, you drunkenly plant numerous kisses upon her cheeks while she ushers you into the passenger side of Namjoon’s car- you uttering slurred words of songs you hope to karaoke to whenever you see your best friend again- her punching Namjoon’s shoulder for making a joke on who’s going to pay him for being your chauffeur which then prompts him to joke on how violent the two of you are.

Silence becomes too overwhelming while Namjoon keeps his focus on the road, yet all you can think about is how the alcohol hasn’t done its job in letting you forget about your breakup with Jimin. When tears stain your cheeks, Namjoon pulls over, leaving the car until your tears dry- not wanting you to feel embarrassed for crying in his company. Though he wishes nothing more than to hold you in his arms, he knows he can’t.

Your whines to why he stopped the car are what brings him back to the driver’s side, you falling asleep the rest of the way home while he lovingly stares at the peace on your slumbering face. The way your mouth hangs open, cuddled into the corner of the window, he can’t help how cute you look, pulling out his phone to snag a quick picture.

Forgetting his ringer happens to still be on, the sound of the camera jolts you awake, you groggily wiping at your mouth while glaring a hole through his head, “Did you just?”

“No,” Namjoon nearly drops his phone from being caught in the act, sliding lower into his seat as if to hide from you. Sitting up slowly, your eyes dazed from still overcoming your nap, you peer at him shadily,

“Yes, I did, I saw it,”

“Then, why did you ask?”

“I- Hand it over,” palm up, you reach over with the operation to delete the picture, chagrin flooding your features humorously of the thought of him using it against you by posting it on social media for all your mutuals to see.

Jumping out of the car, he can’t help but laugh at your tiny frame, yet again, chasing him down while he holds the phone high above his head. There’s no hope- you can’t reach it- but that doesn’t stop you from trying, “Namjoon, you better delete it, or-”

“Or what? If only you could reach it, then I’d let you win,”

“Oh,” you groan, pressing your forehead into his chest from the exhaustion of the exercise you didn’t plan on doing, “You do realize you are disparaging your elder, correct? My bones feel cracked now thanks to you, Legs,”

He can’t help the way he smiles at you, so wide, that he nearly catches himself, hoping that you will not notice the longing he has to tilt your chin up and plant a sweet kiss to your rosy lips. The rest of the walk to your home continues in spirited bickering- him refusing to delete the picture of you until you accept the fate- igniting the promise you will get him back eventually.

It’s hard for you to look away from him once you type in your security code- the strange jitters you have in your heart at the thought of parting from him- the feeling of missing him, though you know you will see him again. He smiles at you with the same dimpled grin he always gives when looking at you- waving goodbye, you trying to decipher these feelings you’ve never felt before.

The persistent thoughts soon leave, especially when greeted at work with the panic of finding out the contract has yet to be approved for the Jeons and the Jungs to open the new bakery together.

“I thought Taehyung said it would be taken care of?” Your eyes are frantic while you search LenLen’s- her hand running through her hair to then pressing her fingertips to her lips.

“He handed me the documents to give to Yoongi to sign for the approval. I don’t- I don’t understand how it wouldn’t have gotten signed- I highlighted the words for an immediate agreement.”

The tension you bury from the knowledge of LenLen and Yoongi’s relationship makes you think he would have gotten the papers considering it was a love interest who delivered them to him. Shaking your head, you briskly walk to his office, him immediately standing to his feet- numerous folders holding documents crowd his desk, “Hello, Mr. Min, I gather you’re doing well?”

His brown eyes seem alarmed, his shoulders tensing in your presence from the way you hold your stance, “Why, yes, yes I am,”

“And I’m assuming you know why I’m here?”

“Word- word gets around,”

“Mhm, I see,” you nod, though you refuse to cower, “So, did you or did you not receive a document regarding the franchise of the Jeons and the Jungs?”

When an ‘oh’ falls on his lips, his eyes enlarge in confusion which you can’t help, but furrow your eyebrows at the sudden shift in his expression, “Mr. Min?”

“I thought- I thought you were referring to the coffee stain in the break room,”

You wish you could feel a hint of laughter upon this misunderstanding, but instead, you clear your throat while you wave away the reply, “No, Mr. Min, I am addressing the documents of approval in order for the Jeons and the Jungs to be able to open up the new bakery on the other side of town. Now, it has come to my attention that LenLen brought you the documents to sign?”

“Not-not to my knowledge,” he stammers, scratching at the back of his neck while sweat beads form along his forehead. In the end, the discussion results in Taehyung’s office, him harshly accusing the ordeal to be your fault, though you callously want to reveal LenLen and Yoongi’s affair being you have a theory as to why he wasn’t aware of the document. Yet, you can’t bring yourself to do it. Ultimately, you hope everything will get taken care of with the promise that it won’t happen again, LenLen texting you an apology for not double checking on whether Yoongi received the papers or not.

When faced with Seokjin, who continues to ask you for updates, just to be let down again- you can’t help the frustration building to the point you want to explode. It’s when the next day comes, and lunch break finally rolls around, that there’s only one person you want to see. Sending a quick text, Namjoon meets you at a local restaurant, one he happens to pick out, the sight of him bringing a breath of fresh air you desperately needed.

Just a dull, thin sweatshirt and jeans, yet he shines more than anyone else bustling on the streets. When the waitress seats both of you- each ordering- Namjoon makes a joke on if you’d want wine, of course, you wanting to object since you are working today, yet he teases the thought of you needing to break a rule already.

“You are just out to get me, aren’t you?” You say between slurps of your noodles.

“The day that I’m not is the day you should be worried,” he counters with a side grin poised upon his thick lips. Sitting back, he moves his sleeves to rest mid-arm while he continues to watch you.

“Worried? I think I’d throw a party,”

“What?” He gapes, “A party without the main attraction?” He jabs a thumb at himself, “We will see how many will even show up,”

“Must you always have the last word?”

You’re grateful he was able to join you for lunch, especially when he listens to your vague rant on the stress your job holds, walking with you to the elevator of your work building before the two of you part ways. When night comes, you clocking out to head to the bus station, you make your way out into the warm breeze, when the figure of a familiar face nearly knocks you off your feet, yet you stand firm, swallowing the lump in your throat until his steps halt before you.

“[Y/N],” Jimin’s eyes hold worry while he stares into your hardened gaze.

“Jimin,” you grit your teeth, biting back the foul words wanting to tumble off your tongue. You’re not surprised when he asks why you haven’t returned his calls, because, with every message he sends, you delete it, refusing to let him get to you. “What are you doing here?”

“Can we- can we go somewhere with fewer people?” He pleads which you directly decline. Initiating an argument, both of you are unaware of the gathering audience, standing behind the glass doors, watching the flustered pair of you whispering frustrations that sail off with the wind. LenLen and Shai happens to be two witnesses, joining them Namjoon, whose heart nearly breaks from the man, he can tell, will not leave your side unless you comply.

The rage is unsettling, especially with the way he sees you trying to break free from the man’s grip- prompting Namjoon to come to your rescue, wrapping his arm around you to free you from Jimin’s relentless remarks.

“What- what are you doing?” You whisper in surprise, swiping your hair from your vision while your widened eyes sweep along Namjoon’s unreadable face.

“I’m your boyfriend, okay? Act natural,”

You can hardly process what he’s trying to do, especially when Jimin becomes an object in the path causing you and Namjoon to pause in place.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Jimin gestures a stiff digit toward Namjoon, whose jaw clenches in return, “Who is this?”

“I- uh- I- yes, I-” You stutter, uncertain on if you even heard Namjoon right to begin with. Did he just call himself your boyfriend? And, how come that sounds like such wonderful music to your ears?

“Pretty sure that’s my question to ask,”

Jimin’s taken aback, waving off Namjoon’s statement as if it’s useless, “I’m [Y/N]’s boyfriend, so, therefore, it’s my right to ask, you bastard,”

“Mm, is that so?” The tension is smothering especially when Namjoon takes a small step forward, his arm guarding you while he holds an angered glance- not breaking eye contact with Jimin whose shoulders slump with the slightest fear he doesn’t want to show. “If I were you, I would fuck off,”

“Excuse me? What the hell did you just say?”

“I said to fuck. Off,” Namjoon’s voice is thick with vile, your hand tightening around his wrist while you gulp over the pounding of your heart.

“Who are you telling to-”

“Unless you want to be reported to the cops for harassment, I would advise you to walk away,” it doesn’t take but a millisecond for Namjoon to slip out his phone, immediately calling his sister, unbeknownst to you and Jimin, Monnie’s voice in a panic when Namjoon continues talking over her as if he is speaking to the authorities. Jimin, reluctantly, scampers off- Namjoon repudiating to leave your side when you lower your glance, gradually walking in the direction of your home.

“Hey…” His voice is soft after a few minutes of silence- you’re so lost in your thoughts, it’s hard to distinguish the fog wanting to encompass your mind. When you don’t hear him at first, he merely pauses, placing his fingers underneath your chin in a manner to get you to face him. Meeting his eyes, there’s a concern there that you’ve never seen a man hold for you, and it takes you a second to fully understand it. “Talk to me,” he murmurs- his frame so close to colliding with yours in a warm embrace, you nearly give in.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, trying to look away, but Namjoon tilts his head until your eyes meet again,

“Why are you sorry, [Y/N]? There is not a thing you have done wrong here,”

You sigh in exhaustion, wishing nothing more than to slip underneath your covers where you long for Namjoon to hold you, though you continuously deny it.

“[Y/N],” the way he says your name in such an eloquent whisper brings you to hushed tears, “I don’t think you realize how lucky you are. You could have married the man for the rest of your life, but you didn’t,”

Never thinking of it in that way, relief floods your senses when Namjoon reminds you that indeed, you are lucky, “Maybe, I shouldn’t have such bad taste in men,” you mutter, him chuckling at you before ghosting his fingers from your chin, giving you space enough to back away.

“Monnie and I have been saying the same exact thing for years, it’s about time you join our side,”

You nudge his arm with your knuckles while you glimpse at him with a hearty smirk, “Why do you make everything so much better?”

“Because I’m the best,”

His gloating is typical Namjoon- humorous, yet charming- causing contagious laughter the rest of the walk, leaving your heart with the subtle longing even when his presence leaves to return to his own home- you wishing nothing more than to follow him instead. Because for once, after years and years of knowing him, you ponder: he always finds a way to make your world brighter, even if he is nearly falling apart- it’s you who in return molds the halves of his heart together- signifying that there is something special – something that flickers the hope that maybe you do have feelings for him you have yet to admit.

It’s the meeting your work holds that ends with Shai timidly glimpsing at you here and there; your shoulders tensing especially with the rumored whispers of theories as to what was witnessed from the previous night with Jimin. Scattering bodies heading in different directions to their office leaves a lingering Shai behind in your presence, still feeling her stare while you compile your things to carry,

“Shai, I appreciate the recognition of the makeup I actually put on today, but is there a reason why you’re acting strange?”

Caught off guard, her mouth becomes agape, her cheeks reddening while she keeps her eyes panning the table, “I just have a question, um, so you know the man from last night?”

“Yeah?” You drag out the word slowly, shoulders rigid as you’re uncertain as to which man she could be referring to.

“Not-not your ex, but-but the tall one,”

Nodding, you bite the corner of your lip, urging her to continue whatever point she’s trying to make,

“Are you interested in him?”

The question hasn’t been asked of you, though you’ve realized you have spent a lot of time with Namjoon ever since his return from America. Why you feel so cornered, you can’t quite pinpoint? Because is it wrong to say no when in fact, it’s possible?

“Well, if not, it’s okay for me to, you know, ask him out, right?” She proceeds to ask if he’s single- waiting for your confirmation as if that’s information you would happen to know. She offers to help carry your things to your office once you answer her question with a terse nod- giving her permission to talk to Namjoon, though it’s not really your place.

As if the day couldn’t get any ‘worse’, or in a better term, ‘annoying’, Taehyung invites the staff to another luncheon, this time involving alcoholic beverages, him getting tipsy enough to subtly make a rude joke toward you. Though you’ve grown used to him over the years, you’ve learned how to tolerate him despite the gossip from the women of the workplace who deem you his favorite due to the fact you handle his demises. After the gathering ends, he proceeds to invite everyone to a karaoke bar not far away- all the women making excuses, in which you make mention you have a lot of work to finish.

“It’s not like you have a man waiting on you at home, come on, let’s go,” he counters- Shai standing beside him helpless while she watches your expression harden in offense.

“I’m pretty sure I never refused to go even when I was in a relationship,” you retort, rendering him speechless, leading him to shove his hands in his pockets out of discomfort. Prancing away with your head held high, you stop to purchase a few of your favorite beers before entering the work building. Stunned the moment you recognize the slim legs of Namjoon who you figure has gotten out of work late.

“Namjoon? It’s late, what are you still doing here?” The happiness exuberating from your smile flickers a hope you can’t bring yourself to ignore.

“Boss had me doing a few extra things, but what are you doing back at the office? Isn’t today your half day?”

“Ah,” you shake your head, “I know, but I still have a few notes I must finish. Also, times I need to schedule to evaluate more bakeries… Are you doing anything later?” Wanting to be in his company is the first thing on your mind, yet your face falls in disappointment when he mentions he has plans.

“Yeah, actually I’m going to the club tonight. Seokjin called asking if I’d like to go with him and Hoseok,”

Curse you, Seokjin, you cringe mentally, but you put on your best smile in an effort to hide the pathetic hope you can’t believe you’re feeling.

“Oh, I see, planning to pick up a few ladies?” You say the word as if it’s a song, though you want to regurgitate at even saying out loud. Shrugging his shoulders, a grin tugs at the corner of his mouth,

“I have plenty of those, so no,”

In your mind, you know it’s just a light-hearted joke, so why does it hurt to think of him with another woman? Fresh out of a relationship, and yet, you’re upset about a childhood friend wanting to mingle with women with the possibility of finding the one, he will marry. When his phone begins to ring, he gives you an apologetic glance which you return with a nod of understanding, Parting ways, he stares after you while you power walk to the elevator, him unaware of your eyes turning to stare at his back while he heads out of the building.

When in the realm of safety, called your office, you switch on music from your favorite KPOP band letting the music flow through the room. A buzz forms after you gulp the first beer, swaying your body with the music. Namjoon, can’t bring himself to leave, and last minute, he texts your brother and Hoseok, canceling for the evening, not revealing the reason out loud that his heart wants to be planted right next to yours.

The elevator seems to be against him, especially with how slow it rises to your floor, him exiting the moment the doors open. Rounding a corner, his eyes scan the glass windows until he sees your silhouette- twirling around the room, flipping your hair from side to side, completely lost in your own little world- oblivious to the now smiling Namjoon whose heart dances with joy overcoming his countenance at seeing you frolic among the room.  

There’s the woman he’s fallen so deeply in love with, and there’s the woman, he one-day hopes, he will hold in his arms for the rest of his life. Besides, one would find it blatantly obvious, as an outsider looking in, especially with the shiny smile plastered upon Namjoon’s face that he is irrevocably entranced by the soul, being you, dancing from side to side unaware to his presence outside your office walls. There is no one like you- there has never been anyone like you in his eyes- someone who he’s secretly admired from afar for all these years but remains to bury his feelings for the fear of what you would say. What your family would say. What his sister would say.

While you continue sashaying to the rhythm of the song echoing in your office, Namjoon disappears out of sight from the glass windows to dial your number. When the screen lights up with his name, you have the inkling to answer, but deciding to ignore it, you whirl around to sway your hips to the beat wondering why he would be calling with the supposed plans he has with your brother. It doesn’t take but a second before you hear a voice overpower the pounding music,

“Why aren’t you taking my call?”

Your heart, as if on cue, thrums whilst a look of shock overwhelms your expression, prompting you to hide at first in embarrassment before rising gradually to face Namjoon who is stifling a laugh while waving slowly to greet you.

“Kim Namjoon! What the hell are you doing here?” You simulate as though you’re annoyed, but the joy of his arrival isn’t something you necessarily want to admit, for you too, have the uncertainty on how to explain the way he’s stirring such feelings you’ve never considered before. With his sly smile, he repeats the question that interrupted your distraction from “work”, but you won’t let him win this argument that easily, “Excuse me, sir, I was working until you decided to intrude on my vibe,”

“Vibe? Is that what the cool kids are saying these days?”

The offensive gape you glare amuses him that you can’t help but boop his smirk with your fingertips- chasing him down with the threat of catching him, yet he zigs zags through your office effortlessly without even an ounce of exhaustion. When the unexpected arrival of a drunken Shai echoes within the hallways, the panic that overwhelms you is enough to shove Namjoon to hide behind one of the bookcases aligning the wall far enough to where Shai may not notice. Namjoon, who is unaware of Shai’s attraction to him, you suppress the thought while you usher her to take a seat, swiping her hair out of her face while tears stream down her cheeks,

“Shai? What’s going on?” When you remember Taehyung, along with Min Yoongi, and other coworkers had an alcoholic planned evening, your heart pangs with guilt for leaving Shai alone. She silences the moment she recognizes the knowledge behind your almond eyes, “It’s Taehyung, isn’t it?”

She nods quickly, keeping her head lowered, fiddling her fingers while her hazy eyes sweep along her tense lap, “He wouldn’t stop talking about my sister and how she broke his heart,”

“Damnit,” you whisper, knowing very well Namjoon is uninformed of the mean words Taehyung flaunts toward you every now and then due to his personal pent up anger. Though you decided not to attend the event tonight, you highly regret having Shai fend for herself. “Shai, I’m so sorry,”

“It’s not like anyone will stand up to him. He literally insults you about your break up with Jimin all the time, yet you let him,” you know she’s intoxicated, especially with the way her words slur, but despite her state of mind, you know what she’s saying is right. Namjoon’s chest fumes with anger at what he’s hearing- wishing nothing more than to approach your boss with the sheer intention of slamming his knuckles into his face; but, for the sake of your job, he knows you may be angry with him if he were to jeopardize that. “And,” Shai presses her fingers to her forehead, “LenLen apparently couldn’t come pick me up because she had some business to attend to. I asked Yoongi about it, but he was no use,”

“Yoongi?” From the way Shai talks, it seems as if she is aware about the relationship you accidentally stumbled upon. When she slowly meets your gaze, her eyes scream that she may have said too much, but you politely urge her to continue, “Yoongi would know about LenLen’s whereabouts?”

“Shit,” Shai sighs, “I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone,”

“Anyone what?”

It’s a strange way that she changes the subject, bringing up Jimin which you are not happy about, leading you to stand to your feet while frantically ushering her out of your office, “I know you were in love with him,” she whines, “So why do you let Taehyung make fun of you for it when my sister dumped him-”

“Let’s be clear,” your hands squeeze her shoulders, “I was not in love with Jimin,”

The tension that had consumed Namjoon’s shoulders from the mention of your ex-boyfriend’s name eases into relief at your words. The hope he has to one day tell you how he feels finally comes into view, which he dismisses for now. Once you finally force her into a taxi, her mumbling her adoration for you-you jog with as much speed that you can gather, return to your office to unlock Namjoon from the trap you didn’t mean to set. He watches you from the window at how adorable you look running across the parking lot- all with the excitement of returning to his rescue- he can’t help himself but throw subtle teases at you for ‘taking so long’ which you reiterate with comments saying ‘well if I would have known you were going to be that way, I would have strolled with the speed of a snail.’

He walks you home as he normally does, refusing to let you be alone at night. He can’t help but bring up the conversation he overheard about the knowledge of your coworkers.

“LenLen doesn’t know that I know,” you confess, running a cold hand through your hair. You cuddle further into your trench coat, wishing the breeze would bring warmth to your aching frame. “In the end, I don’t care if they’re dating, it’s just if the company were to find out, it may not end well for either of them,”

“Yet,” Namjoon tilts his head while his eyebrows furrow, “Taehyung can harass women on multiple occasions and get away with it?”

A sigh of shame escapes past your pouting lips, shaking your head at the truth you wish wasn’t real, but it very much is, and without realizing, you inch closer to Namjoon, his arm brushing yours, bringing a coziness you’ve needed. “He hasn’t touched anyone inappropriately whatsoever; he just has a mouth he can’t control when he’s angry,”

“Still doesn’t make it right,”

“I know,” you wince knowing that not any excuse will make this situation any better.

“I can call and file a complaint. I’m pretty sure it’s anonymous,”

“No!” You gasp, lowering your voice once you realize the volume you held for that split second, “I can- I can handle this on my own,”

“If that’s the case, then how long has this been going on?”

Pausing, you don’t really want to answer because you know how protective Namjoon can be- you’ve seen it with his sister, and with how he became at the presence of Jimin- you will not be surprised if his protective instincts arise if you were to admit it. Instead, you mildly change the subject, “I just- I tolerate it okay? And this whole ordeal at work has been strange anyway. With Yoongi and LenLen dating and not completing documents that Yoongi needed to sign- to the moth infestation at JiWoo’s Café. It just- it reminds me of the time a few years ago when Jeon’s Bakery went through similar instances… Taehyung almost lost his mind to the point he nearly fired the whole staff,”

“I remember Monnie telling me about it. She said she’s never seen you so stressed out in her life,”

“Yeah,” your laugh is breathy, but in an exasperated sense while you shake your head at the memory you have tried to forget about, “the Jeons’ nearly lost their business, but I refused to let it happen.”

“Did you ever consider foul play?”

The thought hadn’t necessarily occurred to you, it’s been years since everything happened, but the survival of Jeon’s Bakery thankfully lives on. When the conversation dies, leaving minds fogged with deep thoughts is the moment you realize you’re nearing your home- Namjoon respecting the fact of not pressing the subjects any further. Freshening up for the evening, the gentle recall of his face smears your mind while you press a plush towel to dry your face; you reach for your phone almost instantly to wish him a good night. If only you could see how giddy he becomes at receiving your message, cuddling into his covers with nothing but the anticipation of getting to see you the next day.

And, if only, he could tell you that.

The following morning, he arises in preparation for work, leaving his apartment to find his sister doing the same, “What are you doing up so early, you ham?”

With a swift roll of the eyes, he waltzes to her side, joining her with the offer of dropping her off at her job, “What do you think? I’m not dressed to impress for the hell of it,”

Eyeballing him, she punches his arm while he fakes pain, Monnie knowing good and well, her punch didn’t have as much impact as it could, “Watch your tone with me, Peasant.” Stepping into his car, she buckles into the passenger side, making herself comfortable before speaking up once more, “Besides, I’m surprised you’re even capable of awakening at such an ungodly hour. Didn’t you just party the night before?”

“Is that what you think I’ve been up to? Since when has your brother been deemed a slacker?”

“Oh, are you really gonna go there?”

The bickering transitions to the mention of Namjoon hardly ever being at home, which Monnie ponders the question on why he can’t just live with her, being the two can save on rent, “Can’t you just respect my privacy?”

Suspicion crosses his sister’s sneer while she raises an eyebrow, “Privacy. Since when does one avoid his sister like the plague without a reason to claim why they need privacy?” You appear on his mind because when is there a time that you’re not on Namjoon’s mind? A tender smile tugs at the corner of his lips which Monnie observes almost immediately, “There’s a girl isn’t there?”

“Which one?”

Grasping Namjoon’s earlobe, Monnie pulls at it, causing Namjoon to panic, “I’m driving! I am driving!”

“And?” She ultimately lets go, turning to face the windshield while droplets of rain become evident on the glass, “Speaking of a girl, do you know how freaked out I was when you called me pretending to be [Y/N]’s boyfriend? I seriously thought Jimin was going to kick your ass,”

“Hmph,” Namjoon switches his hold on the steering wheel, unintentionally pressing down on the gas pedal, “I’m pretty sure that was the least of my worries,”

“Jimin has a history of self-defense classes, I wouldn’t completely dismiss it,”

‘Yeah, but he doesn’t know what I’d do if it means protecting her,’

“And while we’re on the topic,” Monnie waves a quick index finger, “if you ever bring home a snotty thot, I will suffocate you both with my bare hands,”

Namjoon shakes his head at his relentless sister though he knows she has not an idea of his undying crush on her best friend, “But… What if she’s attractive?”

“Can’t be more attractive than I,” Monnie gloats, tracing a finger to place a strand of hair behind her ear.

“What did you say? I think my ears have gone deaf,”

Monnie captures his earlobe tightly within her grip once again, Namjoon pleading sorry until she lets go, “Mhm, about to mute that mouth of yours while I’m at it,”

Another meeting takes place the second your clicking heels sound within the workplace, you retrieve your notes before taking a seat before Taehyung whose lips close in a firm line. The rest of your coworkers file in, hardly making eye contact, and with this meeting not being on the schedule, you’re anxious to know what caused such a last-minute gathering. When pictures of Jiwoo’s Café appear on the monitor above, your mouth drops while your eyes scan each picture. Water has flooded every inch of the place, ruining some of the storage from what you can tell, and though your eyebrows crease with the thought that maybe pipes have busted- you notice in the corner of the photo that the sink had been left running all night. Worry consumes you, especially with the thought of your brother and Hoseok, whom you know were out clubbing last night without a care in the world.

“It would be one thing if this situation was not preventable,��� Taehyung folds his hands before him in an ill manner, “But, clearly, it was. And the food cost on top of the cost to get everything cleaned? We’re talking thousands.”

LenLen doesn’t appear as nervous as she had before which you take a mental note of. With her in charge of the store, shouldn’t she at least show some concern? Taehyung continues with his angered rant, threatening to fire someone as he always likes to do, which you choose to ignore, happy to leave once the meeting is over when LenLen and Shai invite you to join them for lunch.  The conversation about the frustration with Taehyung is vague, but you assure the two that you will get to the bottom of this when you can, though you can’t help but wonder why your brother never contacted you about the scenario. Stepping into the restaurant, you’re taken by surprise when you notice Namjoon, who is sitting across none other than Jung Hoseok, who is leaned forward, pressing Namjoon to set him up with Shai which you are unbeknownst of. When greeting the gentlemen, you decide to not ask Hoseok about the mini flooding being you’re off the clock as well as he. Namjoon and Hoseok stand to their feet, telling all three of you to take a seat. An uneasy feeling settles at the bottom of your stomach, leaving a sour taste in your mouth once you notice Shai timidly flicking glimpses in Namjoon’s direction. And, not making it to your knowledge, Hoseok kicks at Namjoon’s foot under the table with the hopes of him conniving on gaining Shai’s attention.

“So,” Namjoon prepares his noodles with the goal of consuming them, but with Hoseok playing footsies, he decides to break the tension, “Where are you from?”

Shai pauses mid-chew, scouring for a napkin to dab her face, “Are you talking to me?”

She wasn’t the only one who stopped mid-chew at Namjoon’s sudden question- your eyes peering at the overly excited girl with the denial that you’re not sure how you feel about her. LenLen remains quiet- solely concentrating on her bowl of noodles in front of her.

“I’m from the city originally, but now, I reside in Busan of course. Alone,” Cringing at what Shai is trying to hint, you barely notice Hoseok immediately jumping at her answer, though she returns the question to Namjoon, “What about you?”

“Sangdo-dong, but moved to Busan with my family at a young age,” Namjoon’s mouth is full of food at this point, but Hoseok isn’t about to give up,

“I live across town in Busan,” his dimples show with his determined grin, “Alone,”

Choking on some broth you slurped, you bury your mouth into the crook of your arm while Namjoon pats your back in a way to calm you, “You alright, [Y/N]?” Taking a moment to recuperate, you nod toward a concerned Namjoon, clearing your throat in an attempt to suppress the tickle.

It’s later that evening when you approach your brother, anxiety apparent upon his face and frame as he paces back and forth within the living room, “So, do you want to explain what happened at work last night?”

Seokjin huffs, leaning his head back while slamming his eyes shut, “[Y/N], I swear to you, Hoseok and I always do a sweep of the store before leaving. I swear to God the sink was off,”

Crossing your arms, you carefully lean against the wall, not letting Seokjin get off so easily if he’s fibbing, “Were there a lot of dishes or something?”

With wide eyes, Seokjin whips his head to stare at you incredulously, “No, we’re not a restaurant, we’re a café, meaning we serve finger foods and desserts, why the hell would we have a lot of dishes?”

“I don’t know! For all I know, the café was busy yesterday! And we’ve already discussed protocol on storing items properly, so what gives, Jin!?”

“Look, I’m just as mind blown as you are. Also, the flour was stored correctly- Hoseok just didn’t have the balls to admit that he doesn’t know how they got moved,” Seokjin’s confession does pang surprise, your hands folding across your chest while trying to make sense of it, “I actually googled if there was a horror story that happened at JiWoo’s Café because how else can I explain to corporate about the sink randomly turning on in the middle of the night?”

Your fingers press against your lips that are pursed in concentration, “Because it didn’t,” you murmur.

The ring of the doorbell jolts you and Seokjin out of your conversation, him sharing a look with you before prodding to the guest bedroom. Overall, you know corporate is going to take care of the water issue regardless, so ultimately there isn’t much to worry about, but the gnawing feeling that something just doesn’t sit right with you seems to bring your suspicions back to light.

Upon opening the door, your eyes widen in sheer incredulity at a nervous Jimin, dressed in a snug tuxedo, who’s lips are quivering with what to say.

“What the hell are you doing here!?” Teeth clenched from the anger boiling within your system, Jimin’s eyes widen with panic as he raises a hand as if to stop you.

“Please [Y/N], hear me out,”

“Hear what out? Clearly, you do not understand the process of a breakup, do you?”

“Listen, just give me a chance to take you to dinner. Let me explain myself-”

“Good night,” his hand stops the door from shutting and with the strength you know he holds, you no longer feel the need to fight; and from the desperate way his eyes flicker between yours, the seriousness behind them unwillingly convinces you to join him, “I just want to make things right, again, just-just please,” Maybe for once he will indeed explain himself; maybe even apologize for making you feel so low all because of a long distance relationship he refused to try; or, maybe he will admit to cheating on you, although you’re highly confident he had been with how fast he seemed to move on. Lost in thoughts, the sight of a familiar restaurant peeks into view, your mouth falling open while your eyes widen disbelievingly.

“You have got to be kidding me,” you mouth, turning to face Jimin who’s eyes sweep outside the car and back,

“What? Do you not like it here?”

It’s not just a restaurant you know all too well; it’s the restaurant- the one specifically raising the memory of a tattered bra, red lipstick and black stocking used to the advantage of Jimin’s second breakup, “Have you been here before?”  It’s a trick question, one Jimin does not seem to pick up on, but he’s smart enough to not answer you with his most recent event regarding this restaurant.

“Yeah, with coworkers forever ago. The food here is pretty decent, but, I-I, we can go somewhere else if you’d li-”

“It’s whatever,” Fumbling with unbuckling your seatbelt, the anger is burning hot upon your chest- you could scream, you could cry, you could pull your own hair out with how inconsiderate a man can be. Bringing an ex-girlfriend to the same restaurant he recently brought another woman- how is that okay? Evidence continues to pile, especially when the waiter greets with a ‘Welcome back’, one Jimin awkwardly dismisses.

“Forever ago, huh?” Gulping, Jimin steps ahead of you while you follow him to the numerous tables- you precisely pick out the table Jimin had sat with the last woman a week ago, you ask the waiter if that’s okay which he nods. Settling down, you fold your arms across your chest once you hang your purse on the back of your chair- Jimin scrambling to unfold the menu which covers half of his face.

“Everything sounds good tonight. I wonder what we should order,” Jimin purposely keeps his attention on the menu to avoid the daggers you’re glaring into his skull. Tilting your head, you set your jaw, tightening your already folded arms in irritation,

“Cut to the chase, Jimin. Why did you come to my house? Aren’t you leaving for Seoul soon?”

His fingers grip tighter onto the menu, his eyes peek nervously at you before wetting his lips, “Uh, can we, uh, order first?”

“Okay then,” you lean forward, clasping your fingers together, eyes refusing to leave his tense frame, “Let’s have what you’ve ordered recently,”

“I-I haven’t been here recently,” Jimin still scanning the menu- the screech of your chair surprises him to the point the menu falls from his hands, you hovering above him with a taunting sneer, “I’m going to use the restroom,” Any excuse that leads you to dial your best friend’s phone number is the ultimate excuse. The moment you hear Monnie’s voice over the line, it soothes you enough while you force a long sigh,

“Are you kidding me right now? Jimin showed up again?” The muffled sound of a car is heard over the line which you assume to be a taxi, except it’s not a taxi, it’s Namjoon, who’s ears tune in when he overhears Jimin’s name.

“You won’t even believe where we are right now,”

“What I don’t understand is why you’re even wasting your time with him. Have you ordered wine yet?”

“…No?”

“Water will have to do. Pour it over his head and leave!” Namjoon’s smirk is hidden in the evening, Monica’s attention remaining ahead of her where the streetlights glisten beneath the moon, it’s what she says next, that nearly shatters Namjoon’s heart to smithereens, “Wait a minute, what did you just say? You’ll see how it goes? [Y/N], whatever he has to say is bull shit. Do you plan on seeing him again?” Eventually hanging up the phone, Namjoon’s knuckles are white from the grip upon the steering wheel, Monnie rambling about the news she has just received, “Jimin showed up again, I swear he needs to let her go,”

“Does she not see what he’s trying to do? Why does she keep giving in to him?” Jutting his jaw, his eyebrows furrow, his concentration on the road becoming hard with the irritation he withholds.

“Well, it’s not like she can help it. The asshole keeps showing up without her permission,”

“She just needs to learn to stand up for herself. She just lets men walk all over her like it’s nothing,”

“Calm down, Joon, I’m sure she’s not going to give him another chance,”

“Yeah, sure,”

Confused, she turns to face her brother, wondering why he’s getting so worked up over her best friend- though she wants to ask out loud, she decides against it, more worried about their safety with him driving more than anything.

Pained silence still has a hold at the dinner table, the waiter placing you and Jimin’s meals before each of you, yet your stiff digits can’t even fold suitably around the fork. Instead, you observe Jimin, who clears his throat before taking a sip of his wine- him mirroring the same rigidity. Shaking your head slowly, his shoulders slump, because he knows it’s now or never- and he knows the only reason you’re here is because of the promise of him explaining himself. When a few more minutes pass, the quiet is filled with a clinging fork against his plate before dropping it onto the napkin.

“I turned down the promotion. I’m not leaving Busan,”

“What!?” Gasping, that is the last thing you want to hear, in fact, you stand to your feet, shuffling for Jimin’s phone, “What do you mean you turned them down!? Call them back! Tell them you’re just kidding!”

“[Y/N], I can’t do that right now, they’re closed! Don’t you want to work things out? I thought this would be the best! For me, and for you!”

“Work things out?” Still handing his phone towards him, he stares up at you in apparent shock which shows he did not expect your reaction to be like this, “How come me not leaving Busan was such a sin when we were together? And working things out? You want to work things out in the same place you brought another woman?” Realization dawns his entire expression, his eyes glued to the table while his thick lips poise in surprise before his eyes trail to lock with yours- he’s speechless because he knows he’s been caught, and you’re not done with what you’ve kept buried within your heart, “Oh, what, you gonna press charges against me? Cause if so, I can do more to add to them,” your fingers curl around the shaft of the wine bottle, Jimin throwing his hands up in defense,

“[Y/N]!”

Fingers slipping to return to your side, you attempt to calm yourself for a moment, realizing maybe assault is not such a good idea, “Originally,” you sigh, “I wanted us to be civil. But you’re so deceitful. And,” you throw your purse over your shoulder, “I would take my advice and call your job back. Seoul has plenty of women for you to fish for,”

Stomping out of the restaurant, you’re taken aback when a strong hand whips you around- Jimin’s frantic, yet you stare at him- air escaping your agape mouth into the icy weather.

“It’s not entirely my fault!” His voice raises,

“Excuse me!?”

“Who was that guy you were with the other day?”

“Wow,” you look away, wishing with all your heart Namjoon was by your side, but that’s not something you will reveal, especially not in front of Jimin.

“See!? I’m not the only one who cheated! You were seeing someone else too! Can’t we just say we both are at fault and move past it? Why are you making me the bad guy!?”

“You know what?” You murmur- gathering your bearings, swallowing the lump in your throat while you cuddle more into your coat. He just admitted he cheated on you- something he’s lied about countless times before, and at this point, you’ve been given enough proof. You can’t do this anymore, and the truth is you don’t want to- he’s done enough, and you’ve had enough, “Jimin, it isn’t your fault. It’s mine,”

When his expression softens, he inches forward, but stops abruptly the moment you finish your statement,

“I’m the one to blame for dating you in the first place.”

Crying isn’t something you typically do, not in this case, and the march home seemed much longer than usual. Tossing and turning all night, you force yourself to get ready for work, going through the same routine of taking the bus, heels clicking into the work building to see Hoseok, coffee in hand, conversating with Namjoon along with a smiling Shai while they’re waiting for the elevator to be available. Hoseok must have picked up a temporary job for the time being until his parents’ café is back in business; and, little do you know, Namjoon’s heart still weighs heavy at the knowledge of you being with Jimin last night. He can’t stop himself, continuing to ask Shai questions upon where she resides, her mentioning a pizza place to which they should visit sometime.

Jealousy rears its ugly head when you grimace at Shai asking for Namjoon’s number, Hoseok immediately grabbing her phone to put his first before handing it to Namjoon. Your eyes remain focused on your cellular device the entire time to the point you almost miss Namjoon’s invite to come with them. He’s visibly hurt when you retort that you didn’t hear him, sauntering off the elevator with Shai trailing behind you. Taehyung isn’t in a good mood which you’ve expected, and he sends everyone on a wild goose chase about another bakery that apparently hasn’t been open for a few days, except he asks for LenLen and Yoongi to stay behind- something that catches you off guard. Shoving the questions subconsciously, you and Shai squeeze into one of the vans when the ring of her phone causes your ears to perk up.

Why are you so angry when you hear Namjoon’s name slip off Shai’s lips? And why do you feel so territorial when it comes to him? Shai cancels plans with him from what you’re gathering, apologizing to him repeatedly. If only you were aware of Hoseok’s ear is pressed to the back of Namjoon’s phone- fussing at him to tell Shai that the two have time this evening to accompany her- Namjoon shrugging off Hoseok’s desperation, wishing he could just be with you instead.

“What happened to the approval that was supposed to be signed?” Taehyung’s eyes steadily observe the employees before him- shoulders tensing while LenLen carefully chews her spoonful of rice. Yoongi raises his head slowly, turning to her with nervous eyes.

“They didn’t make it to Yoongi’s desk,” LenLen’s curt smile could fool anyone, yet she remains unphased, “I’m sorry, Mr. Kim.”

“Is there a reason why they didn’t make it to his desk?”

Yoongi’s heart thuds, wondering if Taehyung is suspicious upon his relationship with LenLen. Never in his life has he been so enchanted by a woman as much as he has her- and, he remembers, despite the confusion, of her saying not to worry about the papers- setting them aside before she distracted him with devious kisses. How he forgot about the documents is something he will take with him to his grave, yet he could have sworn they remained on his desk even after she left his office.

“I must have misplaced them,” LenLen’s voice lowers, digging another spoonful of her meal to distract herself from the way Taehyung’s eyes sweep her fidgety fingers.  

Exhaustion seeps through every bit of your limbs- offering to take the van back to work while your coworkers bid you a good night. The moment you park, you’ve fought to keep your eyelids open the entirety of the drive, slumping into your seat before slumber takes over. Namjoon has worked yet another late shift, ambling to his car to notice someone sleeping in one of the company vans. Recognizing it to be you, he watches while you’re leaned against the car door peacefully, mouth slightly ajar, and he longs for a day where he can wake up next to you- your pinned hair frilly from the touch of the pillow, while the bed covers bundle underneath your chin. Just the thought of your almond eyes fluttering to find him- corners crinkling from the smile that will fill your lips.

Waking up, you return loose strands of hair behind your ear before embarrassment knocks on your door at the discovery of Namjoon who is now giggling at your widening eyes. “Oh, no,” you moan, pressing your head onto the steering wheel, the honk of the horn causing Namjoon to lean back. Of course, his presence includes an evening out to dinner, the two of you ordering your meals- holiday lights dazzling outside the tiny restaurant.

Running his chopsticks along his food, Namjoon swallows in frustration at the memory of last night, Monnie later informing him that Jimin isn’t planning on leaving Busan. Wanting to ask you about it, he does- his tone sounding a tad bit harsh compared to what he was intending, “So, I hear that asshole isn’t leaving Busan after all,”

“That asshole?”

“Ah,” Namjoon lays his chopsticks onto the napkin next to his plate, leaning back in his chair, “Am I supposed to be respectful considering the way he treats you? Or the fact that he’s your boyfriend again,”

“What?” You murmur, though it’s hardly audible- your folded arms slipping from the table while you investigate Namjoon’s stern gape. “Is that what Monnie said? That I’m dating him again?”

“Well… No,”

“Okay, then what is the problem? I don’t understand why you just jumped to a conclusion like that,”

“Because maybe you have a hard time telling him to back off,”

“And is that any of your business?” Silence takes hold upon the tension while Namjoon lowers his head, biting the corner of his lip in culpability.

“I just heard about it all last night, okay?”

“Then that’s something you should have approached me about first before accusing that asshole of being my boyfriend,”

Namjoon finds joy in hearing you curse Jimin’s name, but he knows now that he did approach the subject inappropriately, “Hey,” his voice softens, your lips falling in a saddened frown before meeting his eyes, “I’m really sorry for upsetting you,”

Huffing quickly, you nod your forgiveness, Namjoon awkwardly taking a swig of his beer. The sound of water droplets on the rooftop of the joint prompts Namjoon to turn his head to face the window- eyes flickering around the atmosphere while you take in how handsome he is. Gentle brown eyes shiny against his tanned skin, his full lips parted with the amazement of nature outside, while the line of his jaw sends a desire that causes you to look away.

“It’s raining,” he murmurs, “You have an umbrella, right?”

Peering up at him, you shake your head leisurely, cringing when you remember that you left it at home, “It’s okay, I’ll just walk home in the rain. I’m used to it,”

“But why would you do that?”

The comment rolls off your tongue before you can stop yourself, “You upset me so much that maybe I need it to cool me off,” you take a shot of your beer, keeping your eyes peeled in a direction away from Namjoon’s jaw falling open.

“I’m sorry, okay?”

“No,” you shrug, pouring some more beer into your glass, a smile of annoyance planted on your face, “I should be apologizing for you missing your date with Shai,”

“I invited you to join. You’ll come, correct?”

“And what makes you think I should? I don’t necessarily feel like being a third wheel,”

A subtle smirk pulls at the corner of Namjoon’s lips because seeing how you’re reacting to the idea of him being with Shai ignites a hope that maybe you do have feelings for him. Something he’s been dying to gain since returning home from America, “Why would you feel like a third wheel? Maybe I wanted you to be my date,”

“Oh, don’t start with your sarcasm. I’ve seen Shai, and you’re not the only guy who goes smitten over her. I get it, she’s pretty, but is appearance all that matters to the male population!? Goodness, men are-”

“You’re prettier,” Mid-sip of your alcohol, you nearly choke, especially when the words leave Namjoon’s mouth, making your heart flutter in a way you haven’t felt in such a long time. He timidly avoids further conversation while you pat at your loose strands, him paying for the meal before the two of you step outside. A storm brewed during the dinner to the point the rain is panging heavier than when it started.

“Shit,” you whisper, dreading the idea of walking in the rain though you made mention of being used to it. Namjoon doesn’t even hesitate, telling you to remain under the awning of the restaurant while he sprints to the nearest convenient shop. You gape after him, tilting your head wondering what he has up his sleeve. The ding of the door alerts the employees of yet another presence, Namjoon’s hands scrambling along the umbrella rack- originally picking out two just to return one to the rack, a tight-lipped grin planted upon his face. Once the purchase has been made, he returns to your side- your eyes showing the confusion that he’s holding only one open umbrella, “Why just one?” You laugh, Namjoon gesturing for you to step closer while he holds the umbrella higher, “Aren’t we going to get soaked?”

Both turning in the direction of your home, it’s unexpected the way Namjoon’s expression glows, “I think I have a way to fix that problem,” his arm drapes around your waist; he pulls you much closer to his side showing a perfect way to prevent rain from drenching the pair of you. You’re astonished, but in the most glorious way, you can even imagine, his warmth smothering your chest with giddiness- rain pouring on all sides, yet the smiles upon both of your faces light the world much brighter than even the orange streetlights decorating the paths.

“Want to call a cab?” He peers down at your tiny frame- something he made a joke about earlier where you fended for yourself claiming you’re of average height. His question stirs a mild panic, because for once, the walk in the rain isn’t so bad, especially with the way Namjoon’s arm remains planted around you, your head cuddling into the side of his chest after both of your steps cease.

“No,” you tenderly reply, “I think I want to keep walking… With you,”

There’s a magic in the air that outsiders could feel even a mile away from the couple embraced underneath the crying night. Even when you make it to your doorstep, Namjoon insists on watching until you’re safely inside- him gifting you the black umbrella that you reluctantly accept, thanking him for the evening. His trip home ponders him to settle onto his bed, gazing at the picture he never deleted from when he first watched you fall asleep.

A misunderstanding does fall into place the next evening- one where Shai receives a text from Namjoon in regards of the pizza plans that happened to be missed the day before. You, being informed of it by Shai, pauses, wondering how such a great night with Namjoon could shatter your heart in just 24 hours of time. Unaware, Namjoon has made plans with your brother, bailing out last minute with Shai who is walking alongside Hoseok- expression falling in disappointment at the knowledge that Namjoon will not be attending the pizza date as she hoped.

“He’s going clubbing,” Hoseok nods swiftly, her giggling that she enjoys clubbing as well in an attempt to win Namjoon’s interest. Namjoon politely declines, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trench coat while he watches Hoseok, who came up with the plan this morning, joyfully dancing by Shai’s side while they disappear farther into the glistening city.

Heartbroken and confused, yet again, you make plans with LenLen who sees you’re not okay- the two of you enjoying your meals despite the hushed banter, “I can tell you still think about Jimin,”

“If I told you that I don’t, you wouldn’t believe me,”

“Maybe you should date around? Live a little,”

The conversation turns into LenLen giving dating advice- saying not to take men seriously- how they most likely flirt with every female in order to keep their options open- you biting your tongue about her secret she still has not an idea that you know about it. Doubting everything that has been happening with Namjoon, now the uncertainty of him having feelings for you plague your thoughts. Were you stupid to fall for another man’s tactics? But you’ve known Namjoon most of your life, and he’s never been one to cause toxicity amongst others, and you’ve always admired his maturity in situations. So, why can’t you come to terms that maybe he’s not like any other guy? But, then again… What if he is?

Namjoon bends onto the pool table while he squints his eyes at the ball, he’s planning on hitting. Seokjin waves the video games Namjoon surprised him with from America, thanking him once again while he awaits his turn.

“You know, I was going to invite you over to visit my parents with me, but apparently, Mom invited [Y/N]’s boyfriend over for dinner. And, of course, I’m aware of Hoseok ditching me for some girl my sister works with,”

Namjoon’s heart falls to his feet while he leans against the pool table, Seokjin’s focus remaining on his pool stick as he jabs it- the clacking of the balls sounding through the ringing in Namjoon’s ears. Jimin. Again?

“Boyfriend?” Namjoon tries to keep his emotions at bay to prevent any suspicion from your brother, straightening his back while his hands grip the wooden stick in frustration.

“Oh, I figured Monica may have mentioned him, but he’s some guy my mom won’t shut up about. He comes from a rich background. I could care less about the bastard, but I would never tell [Y/N] that. You know how she is about reminding us she’s our elder,”

“Yeah…” Namjoon takes his turn, head spinning from the news he’s receiving, “He comes over a lot?”

“Unfortunately,” Seokjin murmurs, “Just glad I’ve moved out with Hoseok so I don’t have to deal with any of it,”

“We can still go by there,” Namjoon says it without thinking, Seokjin nodding in agreement while they finish up their game. Why he feels the urge that you may need him he doesn’t know. Maybe if he sees Jimin in person again, he can feel some type of closure in letting you go. If Jimin is who you want, then maybe you should be with him in the long run.

Waltzing through your door after spending the evening with LenLen, your auditory senses are greeted by the familiar clinking of silverware mingled with the voices of your parents. At first, you assume that they’re talking to each other until a third voice makes an entrance, your body rigid from the rage rising within your chest. You’re relentless as you stomp to the living room- Jimin’s blonde hair glistens beneath the chandelier, while he sits at the table before your parents. He nods at you when your eyes lock, him timidly looking away when he sees the pure anger resonating from your stance. Your mother joyfully sprints to you, shoving you towards your room to change into something ‘better’ as she proclaims- spinning around dramatically to tell Jimin to continue with his meal.

When ten minutes pass, you haven’t budged from where you’re frozen before your mirror, the black umbrella Namjoon had given you just the night before leans against your desk. Your mother doesn’t even bother to knock, carefully shutting the door behind her while you immediately tilt your head up, “Why the hell is Jimin here!?” You raise your voice, her shushing you abruptly as her hands' fan in front of your face.

“First of all, I asked you to get ready! And I don’t understand why you’re being so damn selfish! Jimin is perfect for you in every way, and you should be very grateful to have found a man like him,” at some point, during your mother’s pointless banter, it all goes in one ear and out the other, and the relief of her leaving your room sends a frustrated exhale from your lips. You did all that you could when you were dating Jimin; you’ve even dressed up to the point of winning his affection in the bedroom which failed miserably as you recall the night of the breakup. And, you know what? Why not flaunt yourself like you did that night? You’ll show him. You’ll show all of them who is really missing out on who.

The smear of blood red lipstick decorates your lips while dangling pearl earrings match the lacey dress that now hugs your figure. Cleavage prominent, you swiftly straighten your hair, making the last task on your list to be a fresh pair of stockings- the intent of the article of clothing to remind Jimin of the night he was with another woman- the numerous nights he had been with other women.

Head held high, you gradually step into the living room, your father gulping at the sight of your bold choice of an outfit, while your mother gasps in disgust. Jimin doesn’t know where to look- trying to keep his gaze away from the tops of your bosoms squeezing together in the nicest bra you could find in your closet.

“Well?” You spread your arms while you sway to your side, “Is there a reason why you all seem appalled?” You gloat, “I’m sure I’ve put every woman in Busan to shame with this dress, isn’t that right Jiminie?” you’re acting obnoxiously, yet you don’t care, seductively tilting your head while you glare at the back of Jimin’s head, “Why are you sitting away from me, Honey? Look at me,” when Jimin glances at your wide-eyed parents, he cautiously turns to face you, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, “What? Do you not like it?” You bend slightly, showing the size of your ass to remind Jimin of the nights he turned you down, muttering on how your sex life was boring due to the lingerie you refused to buy, “Should I have worn an even tighter dress? How about the stockings? Remind you of anything?”

“[Y/N]!” Your mother snaps, you straighten your frame whilst an exasperated giggle escapes your shiny smile,

“Oh, I forgot my parents were here. Oops,” you slur- your dad gesturing for you to take a seat which you do, Jimin having a hard time processing whatever you are doing. Beer is crowding the table with the many different plates of food your mother prepared, yet you turn to Jimin with a whiny request for wine.

Namjoon rests the side of his head on the window of the passenger’s side while Seokjin keeps his attention on the road, “So, have you been seeing anyone since we’ve been home?” He glimpses over to see his friend- distance in his expression which brings a concern to Seokjin.

“No,” Namjoon says after a moment.

“Okay,” Seokjin says slowly, “What about interest? Anyone, that you’re interested in?” He notices the hint of a smile on Namjoon’s face from the corner of his eyes, “Ah, there’s a smile. So, you do have an interest in someone,”

“You caught me,” Namjoon raises his hands in self-defense, “Ask away,”

“Tell me about her. What’s her name? How old is she? Is she from Busan?”

Namjoon contemplates his answers since he doesn’t want to reveal to Seokjin that it’s you, Seokjin’s sister, that Namjoon is hopelessly in love with, “She’s 28,”

“Dude,” Seokjin is shocked from the obvious tone of his voice, “That’s five years older than you, have you gone mad? That’s our sisters’ age. That’s like you dating my sister,” Namjoon glances at Seokjin while he proclaims on how creepy it is to date an older woman- Namjoon remaining silent for the rest of the drive, pain evident on his face now knowing your brother would disapprove if Namjoon’s feelings for you were to be made known.  

Chugging half of your second beer, since Jimin failed at bringing wine, you wait for the perfect opportunity of Jimin’s lips molding to take a sip of his beer when you face your mother, “So, mom did dad ever cheat on you at any point in your relationship?”

Coughing, Jimin buries his mouth into his hand that curled into a fist, sliding his beer further from him while your mom’s eyebrows furrow at your random question, “No. No, your father’s been faithful. Wh-”

“What would you do if he wasn’t?”

Your father stares at you in distraught, yet he seems to catch where your conversation is headed.

“I’d smack him upside his head-”

Hesitation is not part of your vocabulary in this section of time, for your palm, with all the strength you can muster, slaps the back of Jimin’s head while he cringes beneath your touch. The burn of the hit lingers within your palm, while your parents freeze in realization- your dad raising his voice to ask what you’re trying to get at.

“Wait a minute,” your mother counters, while Jimin rubs the back of his head, “Did you… Were you seeing another woman while courting my daughter?”

Jimin drops his gaze to the table, running the tip of his tongue over his lips in panic.

“I’m- I’m- I don’t know what to say,” your mother says in obvious disappointment. Your father rises slowly while he glowers at Jimin who raises his arm in a plea to your father, but it’s too late, he attacks Jimin, slamming him onto the table while bowls of food hit the floor- your mother getting in between the men while Jimin begs for your father to let him go.

“When is everyone going to start acting like adults in here!?” She bellows whilst scampering for cloths to clean the food stains off your father’s sweater.

“Look,” Jimin’s hands fly before him, “I messed up, okay? But I am not the only one to blame here! [Y/N] cheated, too! She’s seeing someone now!”

“Jimin!”

“Oh, are you going to deny it!? Do you think that it’s simple for me to come here? Your parents practically begged me to-”

“Then why the fuck did you not say no!?” Gasps escape from both of your parents at the choice of words you have chosen. But you are so livid, you could care less. “For heaven fucking sakes, Jimin, where is the respect? If only I had a few more drinks in me, I’d smack the shit out of you even more!”

“You know what?” Jimin clenches his jaw, settling to his knees before you, “Hit me then. Put me out of my misery. Do what you need to feel better, I just want to fix things here.”

“Like you’ve had such luck with patching things up before,” you mutter, “It’s not happening, Jimin,”

“Why?” Jimin taunts, standing back to his feet, “How about you tell your parents why you no longer want to be with me, huh? Who’s the man who told me to fuck off at your work? You dodge the question because you’re just as guilty as I am!”

Crossing your arms, you inch closer, a sneer present on your red lips, “Accusing me makes you feel so much better, doesn’t it,”

“Then why can’t you admit who he is? I’m going out of my mind about it, just fucking tell us already-”

“I like him, okay! But that was after my relationship with you!” Your voice is loud- so loud it carries throughout the house, stunning your parents as well as Jimin as they gape at you, “I really like him, you have an issue with that Jimin? Huh?”

“Oh no,” your mother groans as she collapses on the couch, “No, no, no, no-”

Seokjin bursting through the door makes matters worse to your mother as she clambers to tidy the table with whatever she can salvage while everyone’s attention turns to see not one, but two men, joining everyone in the living room. When Namjoon trails behind a wide-eyed Seokjin- Jimin’s expression shows astonishment as he points a shaky index finger toward Namjoon, whose eyes are too busy looking at the ensemble he has never seen on you before. A look that’s distracting him from the tension smothering the vicinity.

“That’s- that’s him! That’s the guy!” Jimin’s desperate- desperate to clear his name of any negativity, though he truly is the only one at fault for infidelity. Grasping your arm tightly, he drags you an inch forward while you struggle to get out of his grip, “You need to explain to everyone!”

Your parents are jumbled with who Jimin is exclaiming about at first, but when they realize his crazed eyes have yet to leave Namjoon’s, they know exactly who he’s referring to- but, Namjoon is more focused on the tightening grip Jimin has on your arm, Namjoon grits his teeth while he swallows slowly, “Let go of her.” Stepping forward, nobody has time to blink when Namjoon clutches the front of Jimin’s suit, dragging him roughly toward the outside of the house while Seokjin hysterically chases after them. Panicked voices of your parents scream towards what seems to be the start of a feud.

You can’t move. You just remain speechless while your hero intervenes once again. 

[luvdsc]

ellipsism.

gold is a bluer color than blue.

pairing :: na jaemin x reader genre :: angst / soulmate + high school au word count :: 1,734 words warnings :: gang, blood, violence, death song :: you were good to me (jeremy zucker & chelsea cutler)

You order a chocolate milkshake.

You never had one before, but they were his favorite.

The boy with blue hair drank them so often that they were all you could taste when your lips pressed against his. He would place one hand on your cheek with the other gently grasping you by the curve of your waist, pulling you closer until he kissed you dizzy. The slightest hints of chocolate stained his breath as he whispered sweet nothings that meant everything to you. He mumbled i love you’s between each breath, sang you lullabies before every exchange of good night’s, and called you endearments sweeter than the sugary concoction he found so much delight in.

The drink is placed in front of you. Fingers curling around the base of the glass, you take a small sip, reveling in the nostalgic taste. You smile.

Chocolate milkshakes might be your favorite, too.

The boy with blue hair was a heartbreakingly beautiful enigma wrapped in a well worn leather jacket and a false bravado that fell apart easily beneath your fingertips once you had found yourself occupying every crevice of his heart. He was blue skies turning into cotton candy pink, whispered wishes slipped between birthday candles, vibrantly yellow dandelions peeking out between cracked pavement, the last wisps of dusk settling into twilight, and the nostalgic song that nestled itself within your years of adolescence and yet, you couldn’t remember the title of for the life of you. He was quiet laughter hidden between the dusty bookshelves of a library, kept promises that were sealed with looped pinkies, stolen kisses as the sunset spilled across the sky, and chilled chocolate milkshakes on a warm day.

Falling in love with the boy with blue hair and a heart wrenching smile was never on your list of things to do in high school, and you didn’t think falling in love with you was on his list either, but love had a funny way of working itself out. A chance encounter on your walk home, an innocent offer of tissues towards your usually absent classmate with a bloody nose, and one glance at this vibrant boy who seemed to hold entire galaxies in his eyes were all it took for you to go head over heels for Na Jaemin.

But you’d also have to thank your soulmate—whoever they were—because if Jaemin hadn’t noticed the odd words stating “Save me a milkshake?” tattooed across your wrist in ebony ink, he wouldn’t have offered to buy you a milkshake in return for the tissues. While sitting in the diner on the corner of Camellia Boulevard and Arcadia Street for the very first time, you found out he was much luckier than you as he showed off a neatly written “I promise” on his wrist.

In a world where soulmate signs came in all different shapes and forms, you were fortunate that yours was straightforward and easy-to-hide. It was supposed to be a simple transition of black into gold as your indicator. It was certainly better than Donghyuck’s sign whose hair color changed every few days courtesy of his soulmate. When you told the boy with blue hair about the day your friend was sporting rainbow streaks, the genuine grin gracing his face as he laughed loudly made him look like an angel, and well, angels never hurt anyone, right?

The boy with blue hair never told you why he was sporting a bruised lip and carmine stains at your very first shared interaction, but you were no stranger to all the swirling rumors at school about the wrong crowd he ran with and the affiliations he had with the darker side of the city. However, you never pried, accepting that he would tell you when the time came and he was ready.

And today, he was finally ready. He was ready to leave that part of his past behind, ready to move on, ready to take charge of his life with you by his side. He was going to tell you today.

Friday afternoons were always reserved for you, but unfortunately, he had to meet with someone from his past one final time. He secretly texted you in class, asking you to meet up a little later than usual at your and his favorite diner where the two of you like to argue over the superior milkshake flavor (you adamantly insist that vanilla is better).  When he received your affirmative reply a few minutes later along with a slew of pretty heart emojis, he beamed brightly before sending back a generous amount of cute emojis in response.

He was excited to show you the A he got on his English paper: the one that you helped him outline and that he stayed up all night perfecting. This was the first time he had put so much time and effort into an assignment, and his teacher was more than thrilled when she received the carefully stapled papers with his name proudly stamped across the cover page. His grades were slowly, but steadily improving, and it was all because of you. He even discovered that he really liked his computer science class and began to research potential classes at nearby community colleges.

Clutching his prized paper in hand, Jaemin stood at the intended meeting spot, enjoying the light drizzle of the rain overhead. The sun barely peeked out from behind the darkening clouds, causing the water droplets to glimmer and gleam as they fell. The gentle pattering of tiny raindrops against his face felt refreshing, almost like a new beginning, a quiet reminder of the rainbow that came afterwards.

Jaemin heard the awful squelching noise before he felt it.

It was an uncomfortable pressure at first until it increased in pain and spread across his abdomen, a cold feeling worming its way up and wrapping around his figure. He had found himself dropping onto the damp concrete, curling in on himself as the papers fluttered loosely from his hand, stained in dark shades of cerise that made its way across the ground.

The blurry figure standing above him stood still for a minute before darting off. No loose ends, he could hear his former boss’s voice echoing in his head. It was what he was told the first time he stepped foot on their territory. How naive of him to believe that they would let him go so easily.

Dragging himself towards the wall behind several empty dumpsters, he propped himself up, pressing down on the wound as best he could but the rivulets of carmine spilled much too quickly and easily, slipping between his fingers. It’s futile, and he knew it, the increasingly harsher waves of pain washing over him with every ticking second. He absentmindedly stared at the A and smiley face adorning his paper in red ink, now barely distinguishable from the other glaring hues of vermilion. The rain poured down, turning the paper translucent as it began to tear around the edges.

Mind going numb from everything but the thought of you—you who was still waiting patiently for someone who would never come—he painstakingly pulled out his phone from his jacket, the device almost falling from his grasp. He clumsily fumbled with it for a few moments before he managed to hit the right buttons. You answered on the first ring, and he smiled, small tendrils of warmth blooming from his heart at the sound of your voice. You were the rose among his garden of thorns, the green light on the other side of the shore, and the beacon of light in the midst of a storm.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he said, taking a deep breath. He hoped that you didn’t notice the way his voice wavered nor the way his breath quickened with every passing second. He hoped that you knew he tried so hard to not fall in love with you, so that you wouldn’t get hurt because of him. He hoped that you could forgive him for falling in love with you anyways. He hoped that you could forgive him for being selfish for the one last time.

“Hey, where are you? Are you alright?” Your worried tone was evident, and he squeezed his eyes shut.  He felt tired, his eyelids drooping slowly, yet he still forced himself to stay awake. He’s sorry for lying to you. “Yeah, I’m fine, just running a little late. Are you already there?”

“Yeah, I just ordered a vanilla milkshake for myself. You know, the best flavor,” you teased him, and he relaxed against the bricks, phone held loosely in his hand.

“Oh, really? I think you’re wrong.”

You scoffed, and he could easily picture the way the corners of your lips tug up into a smile that you desperately try to hide. “ You know what? I’m gonna get you a vanilla one right now instead of chocolate. This is what happens when you’re late.”

“You sure you’re not just buying a second one for yourself?” he laughed softly, and you gasped indignantly. “What do you take me for? A milkshake thief? Maybe I should just drink it myself.”

“No!” He weakly protested, breath growing shallower and weaker. He shakily held up his phone, desperately pressing it against his ear. If he closed his eyes, it was almost as if you were right here, talking to him. He could pretend that he was sitting next to you on vinyl covered seats as you share a plate of fries over vanilla and chocolate milkshakes and his fingers shyly brush against yours as he picks up a fry. He could vividly see how your eyes sparkle as you tell him about your day, and he’ll stare at you, enamored and starry eyed, as some retro love song plays from the jukebox in the corner. 

“Can you promise me something?” he said quietly. The pauses between each heart palpitation grew wider and further apart, and he could faintly hear you answer yes over his slowing heartbeats. He inhaled sharply, his breath stuttering, as he forced the words through his teeth, clenching tightly onto the phone like a lifeline.

“Save me a milkshake?”

On the other side of town, in a tiny booth tucked in a corner of a 1950s themed restaurant, four little words started to shimmer in gold.

“I promise.”

The boy with blue hair smiled.

As the sky wept, a splash of gold twinkled innocently against the darkening asphalt.

[ellstersmash]

the same thing

Fandom: The Wayhaven Chronicles Pairing: Mason x Theo West Rating: M (sexual content, FTB) Words: 1,455 [read on Ao3]

mason and theo talk about feelings. haha jk... unless??

-

He slept over again.

Not on purpose, of course. It just happened. But it sure seems like it’s been just happening more and more often lately. Another new habit, he figures. No big deal. Besides, his own room may be more comfortable—the mattress and the colors and the smells and the quiet all far more to his liking—but waking up here does come with one incredible perk.

Mason turns his shirt right-side-out and tugs it on, eyes drawn to the seam Theo had torn open last night in her haste to get the thing off him.

“Sorry about that,” she croaks out, her voice gone all raspy from a few hours' disuse—though overuse is just as likely a culprit, if his memories of the previous evening can be trusted.

He takes in the sight of her stretched out unceremoniously on her bed with the early morning sun behind her. Even dulled by the curtains it makes her hair glow a sort of rose gold, and she hasn't been awake long enough to smooth it back or to arrange herself temptingly around the sheets—a fact that pleases Mason. She's fucking perfect like this.

Hell, stick her in a museum right up with all those old paintings, and he might let Nate drag him along once in a while. Might even do the dragging.

“No, you're not,” he says.

In lieu of a rebuttal she flashes him a cheeky grin and stretches. Sits up on her elbows then all the way up to watch him dress, rubbing her eyes and gathering the duvet up to her chest.

“You know, you could uh… leave a change of clothes here. I guess.” She frowns deeply and looks away as her words trail off. “If you want to.”

“Hard to resist such an enthusiastic offer.”

“Well it's so cliché.” She smacks her hands onto the bed in frustration. “It sounds like a whole big thing, and that's not what I— I'm not— I mean if you’re going to— Ah, shit.”

Mason raises an eyebrow at her, waiting while she collects her apparently complicated thoughts on the subject. The subject she brought up in the first place.

At last, Theo huffs. “It's practical.”

“Oh yeah? How so?”

A lightness breaks through the frown still carved into her brow as she shrugs and says, “Just trying to save you the walk of shame. Because I’m nice like that.”

Mason smirks. “Oh sweetheart, I am so far from ashamed of what we do here. Thanks for looking out for my reputation, though.”

“Hey, it is impossible to get stains out of those things.” She starts off teasing, but gives a heavy sigh. “Trust me.”

The way her expression falters has Mason wondering if she speaks from experience, but before he can ask about it, a thought occurs to him—along with an entirely different question. It’s one he's never needed answered before, but now it makes his heart thud uncomfortably inside his chest.

“Theo,” he begins, voice calm but less detached than he’d like. “Are you ashamed?”

“What?” Theo’s eyes go wide in genuine surprise and she scrambles to her feet to close the gap between them, catching a toe in the sheets and nearly tripping in the process. Her hands slide onto his ribs and settle on his waist. “Of y— of this? No! God, M, no. Why would you ask that?”

If she wants an answer, he's screwed because he doesn’t have a good one. Anyone else, any other encounter, and he wouldn’t give a damn how they felt about it. Never has before. They want to be embarrassed that’s their shit, not his.

She is one of them now, though. Part of the team. A friend, and he’s never done this with a friend before. And like Nate said, she'll be sticking around. Only makes sense to want her not to regret it, not to make it awkward later on, not to cause tension with the others.

Yeah. Explains a lot, really.

Mason nods, satisfied, as his hands meet her warm bare skin. “Just had to make sure.”

Theo sighs and melts into the touch. “I should never have made the stupid offer. Forget I asked.”

“It's a little domestic for us, anyway.” Mason lets his gaze drift gently down the curves of her naked body. The scent of human food is creeping in from some other apartment, but it’s not so bad when she’s this near, smelling like… well, like her. Her pulse begins to pound in his ears, and by the time he makes it back up to her face, it bears an expression so heated it makes his breath catch.

“Way too domestic,” she whispers, swaying almost imperceptibly.

“Wouldn't want the neighbors to get the wrong impression.”

“Exactly.”

He skims the back of his fingers along her collarbone and up the side of her neck, then clenches his fist into her hair and soaks up the way she shivers with pleasure. “On the other hand,” he says, pulling gently to tilt her head back, “a change of clothes could be practical for other reasons.”

Theo hums in question and he dips his head low to whisper in her ear.

“Imagine how creative we could be if we didn't have to worry about your clothes or mine.”

When his lips meet her pulse point she arches into him with a shuddery breath. “Consider me convinced.”

Mason smiles into her skin. “It was your idea.”

“Right, right.” She waves one hand dismissively in the air before it joins the other in attempting to undo his morning’s work. “Course it was.”

Then she retreats to give him a stern look and a strict finger. “But to reiterate, this is purely a functional arrangement.”

She’s at least partly joking but he doesn’t have the patience for it right now. He wants her to focus on his shirt so he doesn't have to take over. Then he can take her back to bed and find out how hoarse her voice can get.

Maybe make her lose it entirely.

“Agreed,” and he cups her breast, brushing the pad of his thumb over the peaked nipple. The moan she bites her lip to muffle is a good start.

“I mean it.” With Mason’s encouragement, Theo manages to tug his shirt off again—more carefully than the last time—before her hands drag down his chest and abdomen. “Don't you go catching feelings for me.” Her nose wrinkles at the word even as her fingers work loose the top button of his jeans. “Dirty little things.”

“No kidding. You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“Not since I turned seven.” She giggles alone at her own glum joke, then looks up at him through her lashes and draws her lower lip between her teeth. “I'll tell you what I would kiss with it though…”

A growl escapes him at the suggestion. He’s been half hard since she first laid her hands on him and the warmth currently spreading up toward his stomach is only intensifying. “Actions speak louder than words, sweetheart.”

“Good point.”

In one smooth movement that has his attention fixed, Theo wraps her arms around his neck and tilts her head up to his—but her lips stop just shy of his own. Mason relishes the anticipation. Lets her stretch it out as long as she wants, for once welcoming the wash of sensations: the warmth she radiates, the achingly slow circles she traces on his spine, the caress of her thumb in the rough stubble on his jaw, the smell of sweat and arousal and the perfume she wore yesterday, the dissonant flutters of their heartbeats, and the spark in her eyes as the sun catches on the blue.

Finally, finally she kisses him, but it’s only the lightest press of her lips before the tip of her nose drags along his. She leaves another there, just as gentle as the first. One more at the top of his cheek, brushing against his eyelashes, and it’s not at all what he expected. Not what he thought he wanted, but—

Better somehow.

Mason swallows hard. Wants to speak, to say something that might shove off the weight of all that tenderness, but before he has the chance, she captures his lips again. Maybe she knows what he’s thinking or maybe she’s thinking the same thing. Doesn’t matter; the urgency in it has his mind back on the right track.

The slightest pressure at the back of her thighs and she clings tight to let him lift her, wraps her legs around his waist, and peppers soft hungry kisses wherever she can reach as he walks them back to bed.

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Out Tonight (Part 4)

<- Part 3 | Part 5 ->

Summary:  The morning after your drunken hookup with Rafael Barba, continued. More awkwardness and unpacking the dubcon.

3,294 words

You had been nervous waking up next to a stranger. You knew you’d both been drunk, and caught up in a karaoke dream. Now that the night’s carefree energy had worn off, and the glamorous glow of stage lights were replaced by the garish light of day, you were worried things would be awkward.

Of course, you had pictured something more along the lines of, he would think you were ugly, or you would freeze up and blurt something stupid, or he’d slip his wedding ring out of his pocket, put it back on his finger, and smack you on the ass as he swaggered out, and you’d feel like an idiot.

You had not expected the shitstorm of him not remembering anything.

He was drunk, but with the way he was spouting off legal advice, you would never have imagined he was blackout drunk. You never imagined waking up to being accused of drugging him. God—this was what you got for letting loose for once. It always seemed so glamorous when your college roommates brought guys home after a night of partying, but of course the one time you do, you’re a sexual predator. Fuck!

Then again, it was starting to make sense. Because immediately after accusing you, he practically tried to arrest himself. The open, flirtatious charmer you met at the bar was so unlike this tightly-wound ball of anxiety, he must have been down to his last brain cell last night. It was just that each and every one of his brain cells happened to contain the entire New York bar exam.

But that didn’t make you a predator, did it? He was fine. Maybe not fine, but not… It wasn’t like he was unconscious. Oh, god, was that really how low you wanted to set the bar? It’s fine to take advantage of drunk people so long as they haven’t passed out yet? Or so long as they’re men? Your stomach turned. Everything he said about filing charges against him… suddenly you were certain you were the one who should be standing in front of a grand jury.

***

Barba waved the compact hotel-provided blow dryer over his freshly washed and rung out boxers. His pants and shirt would need to be ironed before he would dare leave the hotel room (it was bad enough that he had none of his usual hair product and was already dreadfully fuzzy), but the large ironing board wouldn’t fit inside the small hotel bathroom. He would have to go back out there, but he didn’t have a change of pants. He wondered if would be appropriate to walk around in just his boxers. You had already seen him naked, he supposed. Maybe. He didn’t really know what happened between you, but it seemed a bit late to be feeling shy.

Then again, he still could not be certain he wasn’t the one who pushed himself on you. As he got into the shower, he had smelled you on his fingers, and the scent was so intoxicating he had to stop himself from licking them. A little clip of memory returned, your lips warm and inviting against his, the taste of your tongue, his hips rolling desperately against yours, and he realized what that feeling was that he could not quite place. It was attachment: a deep, carnal, passionate, bond. Probably the product of oxytocin or… pheromones? Some lizard-brain part of him had developed an irresistible need for you.

It wouldn’t be unusual for a victim in your situation to act friendly toward her abuser, if you hadn’t fully processed yet. If he had taken advantage of a drunk woman at a bar, he certainly had no desire to traumatize you further by strutting around half naked.

He put on his toasty boxers and mostly-clean undershirt, and knocked at the bathroom door, poking his head out into the room, eyes averted. “Sorry to ask, but do you have a pair of sweatpants that might fit me?”

There was a flash of movement, and a loud sniff as you jolted up into a sitting position. He looked up, and noticed you hadn’t moved from the spot on the bed where he had left you, and you were facing away from him, rubbing your eyes.

“I… I might have something,” you said, trying to hide the waver in your voice.

Without thinking he rushed out, closing the distance in three steps, then stood awkwardly by the side of the bed, suddenly aware that he had no idea what to do. “Are… are you OK?” he asked. A knot tightened in his stomach. It was him, wasn’t it? You must have remembered something he did.

Your big eyes looked up at him, red and glistening with tears. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” you whimpered.

Oh. He dropped onto the bed beside you, staring at his lap.

“I didn’t think you were… You wanted it so much! You didn't seem…. But you were. God, you were crying! You hugged me at the bar and cried into my shirt, I should have known you were in a vulnerable place. I took advantage of you. I’m sorry. I don’t know what to—what do I do to make this right? Are you going to press charges? I’ll do what you said you would, I’ll plead guilty.”

His lizard-brain had the strong impulse to pull you into his arms and tell you it was all alright. His lawyer voice answered automatically, “There’s no case. You committed no crime in New York State if I consented at the time, so long as I was not drugged against my will. Which you… didn’t?” he hazarded a guess. “Even if there was a sexually based offense here—a male victim and female defendant? No jury would ever convict you. The D.A. wouldn’t touch it without ironclad proof of wrongdoing.”

“Th-that’s not the issue! And that’s terrible!”

“It’s… the system,” he gave a commiserating shrug. “Justice has never been blind.”

“But if I hurt you…” You fell silent, and were quiet for awhile, not sure what to say, or do. His words were not exactly comforting, but they weren’t condemning either. You were more confused than ever.

“If you want to make it up to me, start by lending me some pants?” he asked with a smirk that was somewhere between rakish and about-to-die-of-embarrassment, dragging a corner of the blanket over his lap.

***

A tiny cloud of steam puffed from the clothing iron as Barba methodically pressed the appropriate creases back into his dress pants while smoothing the unwanted wrinkles out. His ejaculate had not left a permanent stain, and, vain as it was to admit, that had him feeling significantly relieved about the entire situation. That, and vomiting his guts out, taking an aspirin, and downing several cups of bad coffee from the coffee maker.

“Alright,” he said, taking his eyes off the iron just long enough to give you a probing look where you sat, cross-legged on the bed, “Walk me through everything that happened last night. Step by step.”

His gaze, though brief, was intense, like you were a witness for the defense and he was ready to poke holes in anything less than the full and complete truth. Yet it was harder to be intimidated now that he was wearing your pink and blue plaid Vermont Flannel pajamas, looking very domestic in front of an ironing board. And since you had noticed his pink heart socks that matched the color of his tie.

“What’s the last thing you do remember?”

The flash of memory of your warm lips sprang, unwanted, into the forefront of his mind. He pushed it away, and dug further back. “The McCaskey trial ended. Everyone took the verdict hard.” His lip twitched but he restrained himself from saying aloud that it was all his fault. Nobody needed a pity-party. “Everyone else had their own Friday plans, so I went out to drink alone. Don’t give me that look, I drink alone all the time.”

The look you were giving intensified.

“OK, I see how that sounded worse. I drink moderately. I have never done anything like...” He lifted the iron and used it to gesture to the entire waking-up-drunk-in-a-strange-hotel-room situation. His brow knit as he tried to peer deeper into his memory, but everything grew dream-like from there. “I need to know how this happened.”

“Do you remember singing?” you prompted.

“I sang?”

“We did half the soundtrack of RENT.”

“Dear lord…” In his stunned embarrassment, he stopped moving the iron and nearly burned his pants, jerking the iron up at the last second.

“You have a beautiful voice,” you smirked, suddenly quite enjoying his bewilderment.

“Oh god,” he moaned woefully.

He folded his pants and set them aside on the chair with his jacket, which also needed a bit of care, but would suffice enough for the walk of shame back home. He spread his rumpled dress shirt on the ironing board.

The thin fabric of his undershirt stretched over his chest, so that every movement showed off the working of robust muscles. Its low cut neck revealed a swath of dark chest hair. The overall effect made you fight with your inner voice not to run your hands all over him.

“Anything coming back?” you asked hopefully, but he only glanced up and shrugged. They say music has a profound connection to memory, so you risked singing a few bars. “What’s the time? Well it’s gotta be close to midnight...”

At first he just gave a wry little chuckle, focusing on ironing his shirt. Then his head snapped up, eyes focused far beyond the wall of the hotel room.

“They set up karaoke in my bar?” He set the hot iron aside as his mind worked over this bizarre realization as you nodded your head, confirming it was not some weird dream he had. He covered his shameful face with a large hand, pinching the tension building in the bridge of his nose. His eyes darted down at you between his fingers. “We sang together,” he breathed. He raked his hand slowly down the length of his face. As his palm brushed over his lips, the sensation of yours came back to him again: a supple, giving pressure, your tongue wet and eager and sweet like strawberry. A racing, fluttering in his heart made his breathing hitch. He felt sweaty.

He was just breathing now, staring down at you with such intensity in those leaf-green eyes, the urge to run your hands down his chest returned. But it was more than that. For the first time since you woke up, his eyes were looking at you with something like recognition. You almost glimpsed the friend you’d made, the one whose absence you’d been feeling like a hole in the gut. Then he shook his head, and it was gone.

“Tell me what happened next,” the prosecutor said.

***

The Rafael Barba of this morning was much more like what you’d expect a big-shot city lawyer to be. Now that you had seen him sober it was obvious how drunk he was already before he got up to sing. Everything you told him turned his face and his neck a new shade of red.

By the time you finished the story, he had finished ironing and changed back in to everything but his jacket and tie. He sat down next to you on the bed, his weight sinking into the mattress so you had to resist gravity not to lean into him.

“So we didn’t have sex?”

“No. I could tell you were too drunk to consent. You just fingered me. I probably shouldn’t have let you get in my pants at all, but I… I guess I really wanted to.” You blushed and your head fell, trapped between wanting to savor the delicious memory and ashamed of your conduct.

He groaned, pressing his lips thin into a tense but smug smirk. “Legally? Everything about that statement is wrong. New York law states that someone who becomes drunk voluntarily is not deemed mentally incapacitated to give consent.”

“I know. You’ve said that twice already. What’s legal isn’t always the same as what’s right.”

His bright eyes sparkled when you said that. “Agreed. But irrelevant,” he brushed off your interruption. “For the purposes of determining criminal sexual assault, New York law also does not distinguish between penetration by penis, finger, or foreign objects. In other words—if, hypothetically, New York changed its laws regarding intoxication and consent—I would be guilty of raping you.” He said it in his callous, matter-of-fact voice, then after thinking about the weight behind his conclusion, looked as if his head might explode. His eyes fell across the marks still visible above your collar. “The way you tell it...” he began hesitantly, low and shamed, “It sounds like I’m the one who got drunk and pushed myself on you.”

“No!” you cried immediately, with a force that startled you both, and aggravated your headaches. "You didn’t push. If I said no, you would have stopped… I checked,” you added with a small laugh.

He exhaled in relief. “Really?” he raised a soft brow with a bit more blond in it than his hair.

“Yep. You’re quite the gentleman, even blackout drunk. That’s why I didn’t think you were…” You trailed off.

“Well. It’s good to know there are lines I won’t cross.”

Your hands were folded tightly in your lap. He was hunched over with his chin buried deep in his fist. You opened your mouth to speak, but he spoke first, and you apologized at the same time for talking over each other.

“You first,” he said.

“I just… I’m sorry, Rafael. Mr. Barba? I don’t…” you sighed, and gave him a weary smile. “Last night was a lot of fun. We had fun together. I liked getting to know you. I’m sorry it turned into such a shit show. I should have just gotten your number and said goodnight.”

“I don’t know which one of us to blame,” he said with finality. You looked so helpless and small, the fierce urge to protect you welled in his chest. He hated to think of you carrying guilt over his own stupid mistakes. “I don’t blame you.” He reached an arm behind you to pat your back, but his hand froze, shaking, without making contact. He didn’t know how you’d feel about him touching you.

You leaned into the open space his arm created, turning your head into his shoulder in a side-hug. The primal impulse fighting him for control screamed in victory, taking in the smell of your hair and relishing it. His hand patted your upper back stiffly, three times, like a good soldier obeying conscious, sober, higher-brain Barba. You pulled back and stammered an apology, cheeks darkening.

“Well. Then.” He stood suddenly, swallowing. He bustled about the room collecting his things, touching up his hair, getting ready to leave.

***

You leaned against the wall by the door, waiting to say goodbye, debating and mentally practicing the words you wanted to say. Finally, he stood in the narrow entryway, and you had your chance.

“Hey. Maybe this is too forward, but… do you want to hang out again?” you asked, eyes having trouble deciding whether they wanted to gaze deep into his or avoid him entirely and stare at the ground.

“What could be forward about a date after this?” he shot you a look from under his eyebrows. “The fact that I would remember it?”

Ground. Your eyes made up their mind; you stared doggedly at the ground hoping it might open up and drop you eleven stories to merciful death on the lobby floor.

“It’s nothing personal,” he began buttoning up his jacket, “it’s just… this was a mistake. I do not have time to be frolicking about like a sophomore at a liberal arts school. I let myself get out of control. Whoever you met last night is not who I am.” He tugged the jacket to straighten it for emphasis, though all the while his heart was fighting against the bounds of his rib cage. You looked so downtrodden. Apparently you had a wonderful, magical time singing musical theater karaoke with his drunk alter-ego, and in less than an hour sober he had already made you cry once, and seemed poised to do it again. “You don’t know me,” he sighed. “I know you even less. I doubt you would like me very much.”

“But maybe I would,” you said, finally returning his gaze with fragile determination. “I’d like to at least get to know you sober. To see if this… meant anything. I don’t want to believe this was all a mistake, that everything I felt—that I thought you felt, too—was a lie. I don’t know if you’ll like me, either, but how do you ever get to know anyone if you don't give getting to know them a chance?”

His jaw tightened with the obvious answer that he didn’t. Barba had work, and he had his lonely Scotch at his usual bar (which it now looked like he might have to replace if it was turning into a karaoke dive).

“Aren’t you lonely, Mr. Barba?” you asked, as if reading his mind.

“No,” he said tersely, but then softened his answer, “My work keeps me too busy for relationships. I don’t have the time.”

“Is there no room in your schedule for one date? I’m not asking for a relationship, just… a half hour to do something fun. I feel awful about how bad this was for you. I just want to leave you with something to remember me by… that you’ll actually remember.”

He did have more fun with you than he’d had in years. Even from the handful of scrambled memories that came back to him, he could tell that much—how good it felt to let go and belt out songs he only ever sang in the shower, to have a partner singing back to him, completely in sync with each other. He remembered babbling on about laws, and you patiently listening like it was actually interesting and not obnoxious. As you fidgeted nervously awaiting his answer, you added a coy, “¿Por favor?” and his mind filled in por favor, papi. It brought with it another snippet of memory. A song you were singing, together, your beautiful eyes looking right into his, pleading. “The heart may freeze, or it can burn.”

He grumbled and shifted feet. “I have a lot of prep for my next case, but I should be finished with it by nine,” he said. His tone was so flat and sharp it took you a long moment to realize what he meant. “If you want to… have dinner.”

You beamed ear to ear, pushing off from the wall to bounce on your toes so vibrantly you made yourself nauseous and had to stand still. Then your face fell. “Ah—you mean tonight? I can’t tonight, I’m going to Hamilton with my parents. How about tomorrow? I’m getting dim sum with a friend at Radiance. She’s bringing her girlfriend so I’ll be a total third wheel if I don’t have a date.”

“You want to bring the stranger from your drunken hookup to lunch date with an old friend?” he grimaced. “Won’t that be, I don’t know, awkward?”

“Oh, incredibly. But we can lean into that, for fun, and science!” you grinned dangerously.

“How about breakfast,” he offered. “Coffee?”

“Coffee would be great.”

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