#all the while we’d flirt like every day

[uptolovegood]

talk to me when u’ve had that homoerotic friendship that gnawed at your insides

[taegularities]

colour me in: palette | jjk (m)

Summary: Breezy mountaintops and turquoise oceans are even more enchanting with Jungkook by your side. Yet, throughout your vacation, you realise — even once you've left the lofty peaks and liberating waves behind, you'll still elevate each other to new heights every day.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating; tiny hints of angst, crazy much fluff, smut ➳ warnings: okayyy. a shit ton of fluff. vacation with their friends!!!, kissing, singing, sexual tension, slippery soccer lolll, bit of acrophobia, someone flirts with oc, bit of jealousy, lots of taeun and yoonmin moments, new dynamics!!!, mountains and beaches, jimin/jk moments :'), deep talks, some insecurities, bunk beeeeds lol, mention of homophobia, small arguments, anger, talk about passing of time; explicit sexual content: hotel room sex :O, light spanking/ass stuff, kissing and making out, teasing, neck kisses!!, jk never gets enough, bit of manhandling, pussy slapping, big dick!jk, soft dom!jk, oc is soaked, they're both wearing their shirts/naked downstairs tho (impatience sigh), oral (f. & m. receiving), bit of mouthfucking, soft and rough sex, mention of sex toys, slapping with his dick ig, masturbation, spit, edging?, choking, he likes her bewbs and a$$, squirting, they ruin the hotel room bed lol, showering together; the ending 🥺 ➳ word count: 32.6k ➳ a/n: gosh, it's been mooonths. did y'all miss them as much as i did :') the distance really brought me closer to them. some more of my soul in this chapter <3 there'll be angst ahead, so enjoy this one thoroughly and with all your heart. thank you for all the support, too <3 i can't wait to hear what you guys think 🤍 ➳ listen to: can't help falling in love by haley reinhart (alt. version) | full collaborative playlist 🤍

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

DAY 1

“Bunk beds… Fu. Cking. Bunk. Beds.”

Jimin scarcely seems impressed with the change in plans that the hostel is forcing your group into. You haven’t quite yet deciphered what’s going on; you’ve been waiting in the lobby with pursed lips and tired eyes, Jimin at the front desk, discussing details that he’s now groaning about.

“Wait… what?” Eun asks, eyes scanning the group members, all equally confused.

Jimin, as agitated as you haven’t seen him in a while, plumps into one of the lobby’s upholstered sofa chairs, massaging his forehead, seemingly preparing to narrate a tale without a happy ending. He sighs, raising his hand as if to teach calculation to a child, and starts explaining.

“We’d booked three rooms, right? But one of them has a leak.” Short pause; Taehyung clicks his tongue. “So now they offered to keep one with the queen size bed and then get another room with two bunk beds. We’d pay less. Or. We keep the other two rooms with the beds, and still pay for the bunk bed room since one couple will still need it.”

“Same price?” Yoongi inquires, aside from Jungkook, the calmest in the room.

“Oh my god,” Eun whispers, matching Jimin’s drama-loving freak, “this is… we’re being robbed.”

“So,” Yoongi tries again, a deep voice interrupting your best friends’ growing hysteria, “we just pay less and get the bunk bed room for four people, no?”

Eun and Jimin stare at the man as if he’s uttered sheer nonsense; Eun’s eyes squint, questioning how he’d dare separate her from her boyfriend. And Jimin, his expression equal to Eun’s, directs the disbelief between his eyebrows directly at his lover speaking.

But as the options start to waver, Eun sighs, leaning back in defeat as she mumbles, “I guess…”

“Yeah, and then, who’s getting the queen sized bed?” you ask carefully, likely initiating another feud; but what else can you do? You need to resolve the issue on hand and you’re dog tired; you need to nap for an hour at least. “How do we decide that?”

“That’s the question,” Jimin declares, rubbing his hands before he announces, “I think we’ll have to fight for it, folks.”

“…How?”

Multiple pairs of eyes drift to the ceiling in thought, attempting to come up with a fair idea or some game. But their schemes are probably too intricate, building scenarios that aren’t feasible in this very situation; you can already tell.

That is, until Taehyung speaks up, slapping his thigh as he finally answers, “We’ll just go the easiest way we know.”

The fact that Jungkook and Yoongi puff out a breath of air is understandable; as Kim Taehyung’s closest pals, they’re bound to know which thought lit up his brain. But by now, even you understand the man’s tactics well enough, and before you can verbalise them, Yoongi does.

“…Wait. You want to rock paper scissors this out?”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“We just pull names? Or spin the wheel? There are plenty of sites on the Internet.”

“No,” Jimin again, “I don’t trust any of you to not manipulate this.”

Voices soon mingle, offended by Jimin’s distrust, retorts flying around such as, “Oh, thanks for this,” or “Why would we manipula—”

“Come on!” Jimin defends, cutting through the cacophony of arguments. “We’re all a bunch of newlyweds! Nobody wants to sleep without the other.”

Well… maybe he’s not wrong there. Over the last several weeks, you’ve grown accustomed to your boyfriend’s warmth next to you; under your head; beneath your palm. His breath against your cheeks and the chin in your mane.

Which is why you tilt your head in slight, approaching worry, leaning into Jungkook’s embrace, his arm over your shoulders. You look at him until he stares back, telling him as the others argue, “This is terrible. I just got used to sleeping with you and…”

But he shakes his head in reassurance, blinking slowly. Gently grabs your hand off his chest and intertwines your fingers, promising that, “It’s okay, babe. Whatever game they want to play, we’ve got this.”

If he says it, you must believe it. Losing would be counterproductive for this trip; you required this time-out with him for the sake of your sanity, considering the weight of the past months.

And thinking about it, you’ve gotten used to his presence too much to sleep without it. You reminisce about the nights he hit the gym late, barely finding time throughout the day as he worked on his exhibit pieces, permanent smudged hues colouring the sides of his hands.

And you, exhausted from work, grazed the other side of the bed with a half sleeping, half restless mind, waking up time and time again to find the mattress empty. Whenever he did come back, sliding into the sheets, you’d notice.

Notice everything.

How he’d kiss your forehead or your temple, whispering your name or a soft, “Hi, angel,” without really expecting a response back. He’d pull you half on top of his body, chest rising with your head atop as he sighed and then, eventually, drifted off.

You think that once or twice, you even heard him breathe a nearly inaudible confession, starting with your new favourite letter L.

But…

It seems that today, luck isn’t quite on your side; different from what he foretold, you haven’t got this. Because mere five minutes later, you’re staring into a group of shaking heads and devastated faces.

Jimin and Yoongi have lost already; and when it’s time to decide between the remaining of you four, it’s not you who breaks into cheerful laughter but the couple you’ve decided to regard with a pout for the rest of the trip.

Unnecessary to mention that Tae and Eun dash into their room once they’ve received the key, quick enough for their suitcases to collide with their soles as they roll behind them. The two remaining duos, among them a sighing Jungkook and a disappointed you, trudge to the bunk bed room without any rush.

Jimin and you sulk your way through the hallways, but Yoongi and Jungkook, you soon notice, remain familiarly posed. You don’t get it; aren’t they upset about the separation?

Your boyfriend at least is still sporting an encouraging smile when you open the door to the frustratingly compact room. The two pairs of bunk beds have a sufficient distance between them, but the beds themselves barely fit a person. You’ve been played so bad.

“And what if we do take the second double room and let fate decide between us?” Jimin suddenly suggests, and you nearly buckle, ready to get into position and lift your fist for another game.

But Yoongi pushes between the two of you, clicking his tongue, “Nah. It’s just two nights, we’ll be moving on after that anyway. Besides,” he sets his suitcase against the left bunk bed, claiming it, and ruffles through his long, dark hair, “we can’t leave the last couple all alone here.”

You smirk in mock, tilting your head, “Ha-ha. You’re way too sure of victory. You wanna try right now, Min—”

“Come on,” Jungkook tries, two heavy hands settling on your shoulders before he moves them down and rubs your shoulders in affection, “solidarity, baby. It’ll be fun.” He moves in, close to your face, kisses your cheek and then whispers into your ear, “We’ll have our room at the beach. And then a whole week just for us, remember?”

Oh, as if you could forget.

Jungkook’s hometown will be the third and last stop of your vacation, a wedding and a childhood bedroom awaiting you. You can’t predict what those days in the countryside will bring, but you refuse to think about them; not because you’re reluctant to go, but because you want the place to surprise you.

Nevermind that the thoughts still seep through all the time; the pure elation.

Your face warms at the thought; you’ve communicated it a million times and will say it a billion times more — you don’t think you’ve ever been this pumped in your life.

No — do not think about it. Let it come to you… carpe diem and all that.

You jump back into the moment, right into the banter, placing your suitcase on the floor and opening it to rummage for today’s outfit. As you shamelessly lay open your entire wardrobe, including some of your best lingerie, you tease, “Okay. I’ll save up my energy. More tonight, boys.”

Jimin blows a raspberry at you; Yoongi waves you off with a grin; and Jungkook barely reacts to you. You assume he’s tired from all the driving, requiring rest more than you, eyes half-lidded.

But if you were in his head, you’d know that he’s long dissociated from the conversation, blending out words, movements, reactions; rather, he merely observes your smile. The playful crease between your eyebrows. The curve of your lips as you speak.

Blinking slowly; lucky for the force of nature wafting into his life like a brisk autumn wind.

Lucky, knowing that somebody could actually care so much.

The pullover doesn’t feel as soft and smooth between your fingertips as it looked from afar. You don’t think you’ll take it. But the beige cardigan felt like a shawl made of accumulated feathers against your body; and Jungkook approved of it, too.

You’re liking the village; maybe it’s the overall dreamy and magical vibe it emanates. It’s redolent of cosy nights spent in front of a fireplace, a hot tea cup warming your palms as you study the view out of a small window, the far-reaching blankets of snow.

And the scent of wooden houses and cinnamon travels through this place — you can’t describe it, but you urge to take all the earthy colours with you.

The pink dress, however, hugging your body like second skin, is bright, the opposite of the cardigan you’ve already settled on buying. It’s a fall dress, comfortable and adaptable to any situation.

You turn in front of the mirror, inspecting your ass, your curves, checking the length and the material for possible flaws. And once you’ve convinced yourself, you push the curtain aside, seeking a second opinion from the man patiently sitting in front of the changing room.

Upon seeing you, his eyes brighten the way they did the last couple of times. Even when he didn’t quite like the item you chose, he seemed happy to just see you. But this time, his pupils flit from button to top, the sparkle in them already obvious as he says, “Damn.”

“I take it you like it as much as I do.”

“Do one of your three sixty spins.”

He loves those. Enjoys it when you present yourself with that treacly smile of yours, arms angled and slightly in the air. And when you come to a stand again, the dress still sways, your eyes questioning, sweet, pure. Jungkook finds joy in this; he could look at you doing this all day.

You keep asking, “Are you bored? Wanna go somewhere else?”

And he always responds, “No. Show me another one of the dresses.”

But no matter how boundless his enthusiasm, he can’t control his occasionally occurring ticks — you know they’re a sign of a nervous mind, watching his fidgety self card through his hair or move his leg or cross and uncross his arms.

So you ask, “You okay?”

“Hm? Yeah. Yeah, I think I’m just tired,” he explains, “driving all day made me drowsy.”

Well, okay, that could be a reason. He does get restless when he craves his bed. Kudos to him for still enduring your slow ass at shopping. You hum before you remind him, “I told you to let me drive.”

“Yes, but…. I like driving,” he shrugs his shoulders, pouting a little, “and you were having fun.”

Honestly—

Fun is a way to call it. You pluck at the hem of the fall dress, recalling the morning with a fond but slightly guilty smile.

“Okay. Lean back now.”

The road was challenging, Jungkook’s voice too quiet to prevail over the music, and you too reckless. Despite the chaos, his grin was telling — though the crinkles and dimples disappeared when half your body turned towards the backseat; right when the car approached a sharp curve.

A harsh hand pushed your beaming self back into your seat, and he spat a single warning, “Angel!”

You’d separated the large group — Jimin was driving the other car, alternating with Taehyung. The journey wasn’t awfully long, but you still went the fair route and split your circle in three versus three, Yoongi residing in the back of your car.

Your car because you’d be driving on to the wedding anyway, and Yoongi would then proceed the vacation in Taehyung’s vehicle. But while your excitement for Jungkook’s hometown didn’t dim a single bit, you were a little sad that you’d be leaving earlier, not getting more time with Yoongi.

Because he vibed. With the right people, you heard, and now witnessed, he vibed.

He sang along with the music in confidence, flashing gummy smirks, DJ-ing with you. Sharing the same taste in music as you, the moments were never dull, 80s classics chiming before modern hip hop took their place. Yoongi likes J. Cole particularly.

The two of you were exhausting, but you did pamper the driver enough to not let your annoying self become too obvious. As in, feeding Jungkook snacks whenever you could, indulging in his favourite music when your tracks ended, offering to drive.

Jungkook remained in a good mood most of the way, but nearing the end, he got edgy, tired, even disregarding Yoongi’s sarcastic suggestion to drive wordlessly.

It took you a moment to understand — Yoongi isn’t a bad driver at all, as you’ve been told by himself, but he’s still not fully healed yet. None of you would make him and he wouldn’t risk it.

Mad respect to Jungkook for suffering through your shenanigans and then still being your anchor as the trouble about the rooms began at the hostel.

You’re a handful — but he has confessed a hundred times before that he’d rather have that than an empty palm.

“No wonder you’re tired,” you tell him, flattening the already crinkle-free dress before you add, “Poor Jimin and Yoongi. Were separated in the cars and now in the hostel, too.”

“I mean,” Jungkook starts, “they both seemed to have a good time on the way, though. Other than that, have they even made stuff official yet?”

Good question. Barely occurred to you yet. You think back to the last couple of weeks, to each of the weekend meetings that you’d summon everybody to in order to discuss the trip. Nothing was said then. Nothing has been said since this morning, either.

So you say, “Kind of by just being with each other the way they are, right? To be honest, I didn’t even think about it. For me, it was already official… didn’t think it’d need an announcement.”

“Maybe you’re right? It’s as much of a secret as we are.”

You break into a grin. “Right?” And then, you straighten your stance, once more turning to show off your ass, too, just for good measure. “What do you think?”

“Oh, you should buy it.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, it’d be good to look at and then fun to rip off.”

You roll your eyes so hard, they nearly disappear from his sight; partly to hide the effect his words practise on you — face hot, chest tight, legs crossed to ease the physical feeling that emerges.

And then, partly to remind him of where he’s sitting right now — not far from an elderly lady who’s currently side-eying you. Weird; just a minute ago she was smiling at you. Ah, decency.

“Ugh, can you only think about that?” you joke, right before wiggling a finger. “This one’s expensive. You’re not ripping off shit.”

“Hey, don’t scold me. You’re just as bad!”

“I’m not! In case you don’t remember, I totally resisted when you offered to come into the changing room with me.”

“Ah, ahhh,” he teases, cocking an eyebrow, “in case you don’t remember, only very reluctantly.” You can’t suppress the laugh, and he joins, familiar creases around his stellar eyes. “But seriously, you look gorgeous.”

“Right! I’ll wear it to your next exhibition, okay? Or the party you’ll definitely host once you’ve established yourself as the nation’s biggest artist.”

And that’s when he finally gets up, groaning a tiny bit before he slaps your ass and rubs it, delighted at your yelp. Challenges you, “Decide whether you want to be cute or sexy. I can’t handle both.”

“But you do every day,” you say, sulking. But your expression returns to normal when he pinches your butt, and you click your tongue, “Okay, okay. We’ll see what you can handle once we get to our next destination.”

Where you’ll finally have your own bedrooms. Your peace. Your mattress to be demolished.

Excited doesn’t do this feeling justice.

Jungkook must be thinking something similar; at least that’s what you ascertain from the way he tongues his inner cheek, shaking his head. You don’t provoke him further — only blow a kiss before you saunter back into the changing room.

You purchase the dress, stepping into the fall air, and move your head left and right in search of the rest of you. You ask, “Have you seen the others? I think we lost them at the souvenir shop, but they might be nearby.”

“Yeah, they went into another souvenir sho— wait, that’s Eun, isn’t it?”

You squint into the distance.

God, this place is like a Christmas market straight from 90s movies. Traditional and homely, domestic and gentle. Oozes some type of warmth that defeats the slightly chill breeze by miles.

And you’re so loving the shops. They’re small, their owners as hospitable as you haven’t met in ages. They talk to you, treat you like one of their own, never attempting awkward conversation and always providing their honest opinion. The lady you just bought the dress from even told you to visit again.

Shit, and the stalls! They’re popular spots; the backbone of the tourism in this area. Sell all kinds of snacks — candied fruits, hot drinks, gingerbread. October hasn’t ended yet, but you crave your golden Christmas lights.

Somewhere not too far, you finally recognise Eun and Yoongi, too, standing at the punch stall, ordering. Thinking about it, it’s been a while since you ate or drank — and just imagining the fruity flavour, you can’t help but suggest, “Ohhh, I should get some, too. Wanna come?”

Jungkook doesn’t answer right away. Your suspicion from before somewhat returns; his thoughts don’t seem to align with yours right now. In fact, you guess them far away, pondering about anything but punch.

You’re moved to ask again, but before you can utter a word, he answers, “Hmm, no, I think I’ll get a coffee a bit later. I’ll go find Jimin and Taehyung in the meantime, though? You go get your punch.”

You blink at him, not sure if you should try again. But when you can’t find a reason for any deviation in mood, you give him the free space he might need, telling him, “Okay. You know where to find us if you need to.”

“Got it,” he says, leaning in to kiss your forehead, and then walks away when you do.

Just once more, you turn, gaping over your shoulder in confusion; but he seems okay. Occupied by the view, craning his neck to look at the mountain nearby, at the very peak you’ll reach tomorrow.

So you turn away, only for him to regard you a moment later.

Jungkook watches as you reach your friend, Eun’s arm cheerfully wrapping around your shoulders, welcoming you in. You give the stall owner a knockout smile, and once distracted enough, Jungkook directly charges for the shop the two of you walked past earlier.

It’s still mostly empty when he reaches it. One young man, much like him, is standing inside, discussing an object lying on the pult between him and the seller. Jungkook glances through the store window, spying the object of his desire, and then walks in.

Enduringly, he waits for the other man to finish. Seems he is a customer, too, buying his grandmother a gift for her birthday. And it looks like he’s more or less firm on his decision, because not even two minutes later, he has thanked the woman behind the counter and left.

Jungkook, equally determined, points to the purchase he’d like to make, making small-talk with the woman now and then before she disappears in a small room at the back and packs the object.

And Jungkook waits… waits calmly until a voice breathes a, “What you doing?” into his ears, scaring him to death. The woman leans back, peeking, alarmed as she asks in an accent, “Everything good?”

Jungkook waves her concerns off. Lets her work. Turns to Jimin as he says, “Goddamn, dude. Don’t do that.”

“You look like you saw a ghost. Are you hiding something?” he asks, right before the lady walks out and presents the pretty packaging and small bag to Jungkook. “Oh! Is this for me?”

Jungkook pays with a scoff, carefully placing it in his bag and then laughs, “C’mon.” And once the rucksack is back on his shoulders, he bids his goodbyes to the seller, leading Jimin outside and whispering as if you could hear, “Alright. It’s for her. I’ll give it to her at the wedding.”

“Damn, a little present for the date at a wedding? You’re down bad.”

“How did you guess that?” Jimin chuckles, patting Jungkook’s back as the younger one smirtles. Soon telling Jimin, “Not a word to her, though. Or anyone. Okay?”

“My lips are sealed.”

That’s it. At least for a while. Both pairs of hands pushing into their jeans’ pockets at once, they trek side by side in silence, head moving left, right, up and down. It’s awkward until it isn’t — until Jimin collects some courage and then spits, “Listen.”

Another pause. Just for a moment. Enough for Jungkook’s tremendous eyes to look up, a finger scratching his temple as he hears Jimin articulate words he never expected, “I know I said my piece that night already, but…” A grimace, kissing his lips, then, “I’m really sorry for doubting you so much at first. I should’ve given you a chance much sooner.”

Well, fuck. 

For weeks and months, Jimin refused to trust him with a steadfast resolution. Didn’t waver even when you attempted to convince him otherwise. There was a prickly dislike in the man’s eyes that irked Jungkook, and frankly, saddened him a little.

But the night you drunk-called him, begging to come back, minutes before he chauffeured all of you home, something shifted. Jimin’s stance towards Jungkook had seemed to change, at least. Actually a grateful occurrence to think back to, considering how much Jungkook fucked up at that time…

“But you have given me a chance now,” Jungkook defends, Jimin nodding, “and I appreciate that just as much.”

“You remember what I said to you back then?”

Of course… he might remember each detail of that night forever.

“Of course,” Jungkook echoes, “you said you were growing fond of me. Trusted me.”

“And I meant it.”

“She said you said it because you knew she was fond of me.”

Jimin chuckles, the sound high-pitched and pleasant, melodic. “Well, I guess that’s true to some extent. But it’s definitely not just that.” He reviews his thoughts; then, “It’s more so the fact that you came back.”

That he came back.

Jimin doesn’t mention that he came back because you called. Because somewhere within, he must know as well as the man beside him that Jungkook was going to come back anyway.

Nobody here doubts his feelings for you. And in some way, this is a reassurance of trust he didn’t think he needed.

“And in hindsight,” Jimin speaks on, “while I disagree with what you did before that,” a sting in Jungkook’s beating heart, “I think your reasons were selfless. Lack of communication here and there, but… you want her happy, right?”

There’s no debate about this.

“So much,” Jungkook immediately agrees, “it just doesn’t make sense, you know? That someone like her should be sad.”

“I agree. And you came back, that’s what it is. You’re here. I think I was fond of you because you gave her a sense of… safety.” He shrugs his shoulders, hands still buried in his pockets. Gives a glance to the variety of passersby. “Making her feel protected and like she was worth something when others didn’t. And in turn, you gave her something to fight for, too.”

Something to fight for… someone to fight for.

How hard is it to wrap your head around the fact that somebody thinks you worthy enough to combat the world for?

Jungkook’s heart stirs. A sudden affection for your friend awakens. No. His friend, too.

“You’re just half as bad, huh?” he says, urging another laugh out of Jimin.

“No, you.” More snicker. “But seriously. Since we were teenagers and she was first confronted with… all the issues around her, she’s repeated to me everybody has demons to fight. A couple weeks ago she said it again… added that you do, too. No details, no worries!”

He raises his hand in defence, and Jungkook shakes his concerns off, mumbling that it’s okay, that it’s true.

So Jimin continues, “But just… whenever you might feel like you’re not doing enough — because let’s be real, we all do sometimes — remember that you make at least one person happy.”

Crazy. This is crazy. An alternate reality, for sure.

“I never expected to hear this from you, but… I really am thankful, Jimin.”

Jimin nods before he stops, as if remembering something. “And if it helps. I’m really glad you joined us here. I mean you know Tae and Yoongi better, but Eun loves you.”

Jungkook titters, shy as Jimin nudges his arm, but silencing when he looks ahead, not early enough to stop Jimin’s addition, “And by the way, she’ll love that. Will feel like the bride, probably—”

Jungkook grits his teeth at the very last word, as if staggered by another ghost appearing in front. Jimin’s eyes follow Jungkook’s, eyes widening a couple inches as he realises his mistake; met with your bright gaze as you near the men with Eun and question, “What are you guys talking about?”

You’re so cheerful and curious, impossible to resist. Jimin’s lie nearly doesn’t come out, but when it does, it happens smoothly enough, “He was just gushing about your dress. Told me how he already knows you’ll be the talk of the night.”

“Come onnnn,” you urge, your smile falling, replaced by a scowl, “this is so weak. I know you, Park. That’s not what you were talking about.”

“It is!” Jungkook chimes in as shamelessly as he can. Guilt floods him — but there are certain sacrifices that are necessary for love, aren’t there? “I told you many times how hot you look in it. I did, you can’t contradict that.”

Jungkook’s acting might be getting better, but you still squint your eyes, still pulling a face. But it seems they are conspiring against you; Jungkook clearly sees you give up. Understand that you won’t get anything out of them.

Besides, you love surprises. You won’t ruin it for yourself.

So you wave the white flag, only saying, “I don’t really believe you, but okay,” before turning, gripping Jungkook’s hand and adding, “Listen. You don’t get to drink a good punch every day. Screw the coffee, try it for me. Yoongi is still there.”

And as the two of you walk away, Jimin follows, ignoring Eun’s curious look. Focuses on how Jungkook turns to him just a little, smiling in mischief but also in something like…

Friendship.

Jungkook has been babbling his mouth dry. You know of his temporary hyperfixations; alternating between cooking twice a day, karaoke-ing his way through a lazy weekend or playing Overwatch for four hours straight and of course, you.

Tonight, it’s gimbap.

You’ve heard a ton about it today; from his favourite kind to how it’s made to failures in his past as he first attempted them. Anecdotes and urges.

When you went to the restaurant earlier, he inhaled a gigantic portion of jjajangmyeon, followed by kimchi-bokkeumbap that he partly shared with your still hungry self. His idea was to order some gimbap as another course, but his grunts and groans revealed that he was done for the night.

Or so you thought.

Because hours and a trip to the old town and its popular fountain later, he’s still craving them, restless on the hostel lobby couch as he says, “Do they have room service or something? Do they sell gimbap?”

His attention is directed towards Jimin, the main organiser of your trip; everybody’s been posing questions today as if he’s studied the town and journey to the tiniest detail. Jimin rubs a palm over his tired eyes, sighing before he speaks.

“No, this isn’t a very luxurious place anyway,” he explains, “and besides. You’re making me hungry, too.”

Jungkook leans into him as he asks, “Aren’t you quite close with the receptionist?” Pause. “Do you think they’d let us take a couple things from the kitchen and make it ourselves?”

“Wow, you really are craving it,” Taehyung mocks, but Jungkook skillfully ignores him.

“Jungkook, this is a lot of special treatment to ask for,” Jimin then claims, waiting for a response, but nothing comes back.

You lean forwards when your friend shakes his head, trying to understand what’s going on. And when you find Jungkook’s big, twinkling eyes staring longingly, you know he’s gotten to Jimin, too. Because the latter sighs again, adding, “If you charm them, maybe.”

“Come on. I know how to charm people,” he says, regarding you with a wink, a flick of your chin and a click of his tongue, all at once. You whisper a playfully indignant Damn, watching him get to a stand.

He’s brave, you must say; for an initial and past introvert, good food certainly makes him courageous. Jimin first gestures towards the reception, mumbling a, “Go ahead,” but barely a second later, he’s on his feet with a deep exhale, hearing Jungkook say, “Decided to help me?”

“Only because I’m hungry, too. Can make them together.”

Whatever scenario you just witnessed, it could’ve been one from a sitcom. Those little filler scenes, there for comic relief. But what strikes you the most of all is the dynamic you just watched emerge.

You’re surprised to the core; these two, doing something together? Peacefully? Voluntarily?

As your eyes bolt from the duo to the hanging guitar at the wall and then to your friends, you let out a tiny laugh, delivering a short head tilt before you deduce, “That’s new.”

It’s quite a show, the one you observe from here. Your friends are already too groggy to converse, instead indulging in the scene: Jungkook and Jimin as they converse with the receptionist, leaning in, telling the young man about their day.

Then, the quiet plea, as sweetly uttered as possible; you know these two. You know they’re pulling out the biggest, brownest eyes the world shall ever see, the mellowest voices outing their plea — and to your utter surprise, the receptionist gives in.

Leads them to another room, probably the breakfast hall, and around five minutes later, they reemerge.

Your group giggles when they come out with a wink, Jungkook forming a tiny ‘Oh’ with his mouth, as if to whistle without ever doing it. They don’t come back to you yet; settle on another table at the back instead, hands full of ingredients. There’s more room there for sure.

They spread the stuff across the table, rolling up their sleeves. You can’t really hear their conversation from here, but Jungkook says something and Jimin smirks back with a slight shake of his shoulders. Then, they start, but not before choosing a playlist to play quietly as they attempt the gimbap journey.

You can’t believe it. What an odd sight — but good for them.

“That’s rare indeed,” Eun lets slip before she turns back to you and the group, falling back into the couch.

You nod, looking through the round. Different from the two across the room, the atmosphere here is dead. So you wait; wait for an opportunity until Yoongi, opposite from you, gives you one. His eyes roam the room, soon stopping at the guitar from before. He regards it entirely, like a piece in a museum.

You ask, “Hey. Do you play?”

“Hm?” Yoongi looks back at you, puppy eyes in full effect, and then switches between you and the instrument. “Ah. Yeah, I play sometimes.”

“He plays all the time,” Taehyung corrects.

Yoongi raises a hand in something like defence, humble as ever as he says, “I’ve been learning. But I think I have gotten better, though there’s still a long way to go.”

“Any song you enjoy playing the most?” you ask, leaning in.

“Ohh, you’ll like this.” His eyes are widening, waking, sobering up. As you see new stars being born in his dark eyes, you know you’ve introduced the right topic. “You like oldies, don’t you?”

“I do, actually! How do you know?”

Taehyung chimes in, “Jungkook told us. Like literal months ago.”

Perhaps it’s the new sentiments you’re still accommodating yourself to, but you feel the heat filling up your entire chest, moving up to your cheeks and providing warmth in the eye of this autumn.

You peek at your boyfriend and your friend, catching them falling into a goofy cooking session. Jimin grabs the dark soy sauce bottle, attempting to pour the liquid on his plate with the most dramatic expression you have ever witnessed, only to realise a moment later that he hasn’t even opened it yet.

Both of them break into an embarrassed and amused chuckle, Jimin shaking his head, and before you can melt into the leather couch, you look away with a smile.

“Wait,” you say, “in which context? I’m nosy, and now I want to know.”

“He said Yoongi would like you because your favourite song is… what was it again?”

Taehyung directs his gaze imploringly to Yoongi, but it’s Eun who answers fondly, “It’s Can’t Take My Eyes off You. Ever since… always.”

You cock an eyebrow at Yoongi, teasing, “So is it true? Do you like me then?”

“I adore you.”

Your face heats up more. “You didn’t tell me what you like playing the most.”

“I would say I enjoy…”

“Or wait. Don’t tell me. What if you played it?”

“Now hold on—”

Energised, you take a stand, throwing a look at the receptionist who locks eyes with you at just the right moment. You point to the guitar, and he lifts his hand to gesture, “Go ahead, please.”

You take the guitar off its hook, grazing over the smooth, wooden surface and skimming the strings for a tiny moment. Relishing the familiar feeling. And then, encouragingly, you hand it to the man of the hour, telling him, “I know you want to.”

Yoongi is uncaring and unapologetically him, but he’s just as shy when met with attention. Yet, you know him enough to understand he often does whatever somebody asks of him, so you’re barely surprised when he flashes a thin-lipped smile and agrees, “Yeah. Alright.”

He situates the guitar on his lap carefully, treating it like a newborn as he mutters at the same time, “What should I play? Maybe this?”

His fingers strum a few chords that you don’t recognise, tough ceasing when he starts working on tuning the guitar. It takes a moment; a time you spend in silence, watching Taehyung for a second as he props up his head, eyelids half closed.

You shrug your shoulders, telling Yoongi, “Whatever crosses your mind first.”

He doesn’t answer, handling the instrument. He’s focused, his lips slightly apart, his expression impossibly composed. He murmurs another, “This should do,” and when he plays just the first three chords, you already know what he’s chosen.

Sounds like an acoustic version of the song. Like it could be played at a wedding, plucking the strings in the background as the bride marches to her groom, fitting the theme of the song.

“Which one’s this?” Eun asks, leaning into Taehyung who’s barely alive at this point. The music probably doesn’t help.

But apart from him, most of the heads turn, even if just very few present. There’s a quiet couple near Jimin and Jungkook’s table, smiling at the pleasant intrusion. The receptionist puts his lower arms onto the counter, listening in.

And then, eyes still fixated on the fingers skillfully mastering each note, you clarify, “Dance Me to the End of Love. Leonard Cohen originally, but this seems like a very… calm version of it.”

Yoongi nods a little, never stopping the music, but adds, “The Civil Wars. Covered it.”

“Right.”

The ambiance changes immediately. You wish you could lower the lights, embrace all that you hear, save it in your eardrums like a memory stick could. From afar, you notice luminous eyes directed at you, blinking slowly, hands still working, but giving you some momentary attention.

Is Jungkook thinking the same as you? If he stood now, gently pulling you into the middle of the room, would you care who watches as you dance? Could this be the magical moment that soon awaits you in a very near future? Swaying at the wedding…

You break the longing gaze when Jimin nudges Jungkook’s elbow, chin nodding towards your group as if the latter isn’t already watching. It seems they have advanced, nearly done with their endeavours. Not too long until they can join you again.

Another minute passes until Yoongi proceeds to the bridge and the peak of the song, and then another until he’s reached the end. Calm, soft thrums. Fading slowly, snapping you out of something you didn’t know just yet.

Heavy affection crowds your chest, lifting all sorrows off your heart. You’re filled with fondness. Empty of pain. Weighing everything and nothing.

Yoongi looks up at you with another awkward smile, still humble, his lips a straight line. The few people in the room applaud quietly, and as he puts the guitar down, you ask, “And how did that feel?”

“Surprisingly…” Yoongi angles his head, and then changes the movement into a nod. “Comforting.”

“Isn’t that special? Feeling something through the very music you put your soul into?”

It’s how you feel when you write. Probably how Jungkook feels when he draws. To possess something, be it creative or not, that floods you with joy like this is priceless. You think back to when you wrote your first poem. Or when you crafted your very first short story.

The memories are blurred, but you remember the feeling. Putting the dot at the end of the very last sentence. And then, you remember more than just this.

Remember when your father taught you how to play the piano, too, and remember when he—

“You play?” Yoongi suddenly asks, and you look up in surprise.

Oh. What? Your eyes widen, eyebrows lifting, mouth wanting to ask what he said, even though you know exactly which question he posed. But you soon break into a satisfied grin.

“How do you know?” you wonder.

“You talk like you do.”

“I didn’t want to give any spoilers,” Eun confesses from the side, comfortably closing into Taehyung, “so I didn’t say anything. But I’ve heard her play.”

“Ah,” you voice, “not often. Was I any good?”

“As much as I remember.”

Your eyes wander back to Yoongi, the man already working on handing you the guitar over the table between the two of you. You puff out a breath, nearly declining, but then recall that he did this for you, too.

So you grab it for the moment, explaining, “I… I play a little. Dad taught me the guitar and a bit of the piano when I was younger.” You mimic Yoongi’s gestures from before, making yourself comfortable with the bottom of the guitar on top of one leg. “Always enjoyed the guitar more, though. Felt productive, feeling the cornea on my fingertips.”

“Damn…” Taehyung makes, and you smile at him, nodding as if to say, “You’re alive, too!”

“Then you should definitely play something,” Eun says.

“You’re all okay with that?”

“Please,” Yoongi confirms, gesturing for you to start, “you don’t need our permission at all.”

So you nod. Getting used to the steely feeling, preparing mentally as you don’t need to tune the guitar anymore. You start the song in mind, an equally important oldie as Yoongi’s piece; and then you go another brave step further as you start humming.

You wish Taehyung, Jungkook or Jimin could do that for you. They’re better singers. You’re alright, certainly not a pro, singing your words rather quietly when you do start. But it provides you with deep relaxation, and you inwardly hope your voice does the same for the others.

“Wise men say, only fools rush in…”

You don’t know why you chose this song. You don’t know why you didn’t settle with your usual choice. Something about the moment and the starry night urged you to pick out this very melody, holding onto the charm and spark tingling in the air.

Yoongi, an introvert among so many extroverts in your circle, is the one who chimes in soon, singing the chorus and then moving to the third verse. You entrust him with the latter, giving you time to open your eyes that you didn’t realise were shut.

You see the two boys at the end of the room finally emerge, slowly treading towards you with full plates. They plump onto the free seats right under the wall where the guitar previously hung, placing the gimbap in the middle of the table.

Taehyung helps himself to one portion, Eun soon following, but Jungkook…

Jungkook seems to have forgotten about it. He walked to you from one spot to where you sit, but as he looks at you now, you wonder how he moved at all. So mesmerised, like a flawless statue, bambi eyes filled with a tenderness you thought only exists on TV.

If you could guess, you’d say he’s looking at you like… like he’d die for you.

Love. Yearning. Affection uncurbed.

He cradles his cheek, putting his elbow on the arm of the couch, lost as if he’s dreaming. He could fully throw you out of balance just now. If you hadn’t played this song with your father a dozen times, committing each movement to memory, you probably would’ve long failed.

You shut your eyes for a moment enough to catch yourself, hearing Yoongi finish another chorus when you suddenly hear another switch in voices. Jungkook, singing the outro, so effortlessly and tenderly; the tone so angelic without even trying.

You could fall asleep. You could fall deeper.

You never knew you could.

Jungkook is the living proof that, despite not being the biggest sap to walk the Earth, you’ve grown fond of his little gestures. You didn’t think you could feel so shy over the way he kisses the air in your direction, expression so hazy.

A couple months ago, you would’ve never expected not to roll your eyes over his little, gentle antics.

But you’re not. Instead, you’re trying not to let show how much he affects you, nodding towards the applause before you ask, “So I take it, it was good?”

“Good?!” Eun blurts in disbelief, leaving it at that with a shake of her head.

“You keep surprising me, angel,” Jungkook admits, “I don’t know what to do with this anymore.”

“With what?”

He’s close enough for his mouth to kiss your cheek, an eyebrow lifting in tease as he puts a hand on his heart. This time, you do roll your eyes, albeit still going in when he gives your lips the tiniest peck.

Your heart is still in the process of accelerating when he asks, “You chose the right song, didn’t you?”

Yeah. A little dose of Elvis’s Can’t Help Falling in Love fits the situation quite well, doesn’t it?

You merely answer with a flattered smile, nearly going in for another, longer kiss; another touch in your own little bubble, suspending time and the world. But your manners demand differently, so you resist, leaning back.

Only taking his hand until the group comes alive a little more, feasting on the midnight snack that the men handled pretty well. The group changes up with time, seats abandoned and taken, switched with another, the guitar cautiously passed on to Yoongi again.

And then they sing some more. You listen, head on Jungkook’s shoulder, dozing in and out of sleep, in and out of his embrace.

Taehyung is soon encouraged to sing a couple, gorgeous snippets of Fly Me to the Moon, a signature song for him and his baritone voice, as Yoongi and Jungkook assure you. You don’t know when this became a session of nostalgic karaoke, remembering a time you never experienced.

It’s how you pictured these nights to end. Nearly falling into a slumber before the day concludes.

Surrounded by a warmth incomparable to a bonfire; one you’ve been yearning for your entire life.

The end of the night begins with an argument.

Yoongi and Jimin are busy preparing themselves for bed, surprisingly cool-headed after the tumult this morning. They don’t struggle with choosing their comfort in the room, while you pull at Jungkook’s leg as it dangles off the upper bed.

“I’m going to come up,” you warn, trying to tickle the bottom of his foot before he crosses his legs, smirking down at you. “And I will be so annoying.”

“Is that news?” he wonders, and you open your mouth wide in surprise, hearing a chuckle from the couple behind you.

“Babe. I called shots on the upper bunk.”

“You did not.”

“It’s a lot more fun up there. And I thought you’d like sleeping down there.”

Jungkook’s eyebrows kiss, his expression questioning as he asks, “What made you think that?”

Well, now that you think of it, your presumptions were flawed. You assumed he wasn’t too picky, always a deep and peaceful sleeper at home. Defeated, you shrug your shoulders, telling him, “You had a mattress on the floor when you moved into the apartment.”

“That’s… an impeccable argument. I can’t even respond to it.”

The sarcasm drips out of his voice like a damaged tap, and once he shifts to the wall, pressing his back against it, you understand your half childlike, half playful pleading won’t work. So you only tilt your head, squinting his eyes at him, and then drop onto the bed below him.

“Don’t you fart, though,” you tell him, registering a goofy laugh with a fond smile. It’s okay. Maybe tomorrow. Either way, it’s worse than not having him beside you at all.

Yoongi switches off the light, ready to sleep as he falls into his bed with a groan. It was a long day and you walked miles, so you understand his fatigue. You expect for them to snore within a moment, but to your astonishment, Jimin starts a conversation not a minute later.

“We were lucky with the weather. I bet it’s raining back at home.”

Oh… have you finally grown into the type of adults who smalltalk about the sun and the clouds? The precipitation and humidity?

Jungkook answers, “Closer to the equator. The weather is best over here in the fall.”

Then, Yoongi, “Hopefully it’s as nice at the beach, too.”

“It better be,” Jimin chimes in, “I’ve been looking forward to our game for ages. I’ll play in the rain if need be.”

“Oh god, can you imagine?” you add, switching to your left side, hands under your temple. You’ve been thinking about the game just as much — chaos with a big fat portion of craze. “We wouldn’t even be able to get up if it rained.”

“We’d get nowhere,” Jungkook confirms, and you imagine him nodding towards the ceiling, arms under his head.

“That’s what. Doesn’t it sound fun? Wouldn’t matter anyway… the rain would at least kill my competitive side, you know?” Jimin jests, and you already send a prayer above. Not for rain, but for bright sunshine; you cannot miss the ruthless, cut-throat battle that will emerge.

And as if you predicted it, knowing very well who strives for a win and who doesn’t, Jungkook challenges, “Your competitive side means nothing if you’re gonna lose anyway.”

“Dude. Be careful. There’ll be nothing but regret if we end up being on the same team,” Jimin says.

“True, true,” you hear Jungkook respond, just as Yoongi lets out an amused snicker, aligning with your muttered, “Now, that, I wanna see.”

The banter and chatter proceeds for another couple minutes, up to the point where Yoongi needs to shush the quartet. Your laughter ebbs down after his reprimands, morphing into content and tired sighs.

And once the conversation has more or less died, you wonder, “Do we need to sleep? We could just stay awake and talk all night.”

But your suggestion proves redundant — because barely two minutes later, your breathing evens out, calm as you finally drift away. Not a single word anymore. Jungkook rolls over his bed, casting a brief look at you, not quite seeing your face in the dark, but understanding that you’ve fallen asleep.

You can’t stay silent for this long; and you’re not moving. Jungkook clicks his tongue, fond but a tease as he jokes, “I drove all day and still she falls asleep first.”

Yoongi and Jimin’s laughs are cautiously quiet, exhausted, soon giving way to deep breaths like yours until they’ve fallen asleep, too.

Weirdly, it takes some time until Jungkook can join your land of dreams. There’s a strange yearning in his chest that he’s well used to by now; it thoroughly sucks to not have you by his side. And… is this too much?

The affection poured into and onto you, is he doing too much? Feeling too much? Why are his fingers itching and his chest not warm enough, despite the pleasant weather?

You’ve really done a number on him.

The minutes prove long, soon stretching to what he perceives as hours. Jungkook doesn’t know how much time has passed and he refuses to fish out his phone again; the light of the device will only postpone sleep, and he cannot use that for the trip tomorrow.

“Man…” Jungkook quietly complains, letting his left arm swing between the bed rails.

Sleep isn’t an entity to grace him just yet anyway; because as around an hour passes, he hears a sound from below. Sheets shifting, a light groan from you. You sigh audibly, soon going silent, and when he thinks you’re off again, he hears a couple seconds later—

“Kook?”

No, he must be insane. It must be insane how his heart stirs at your tiny, wispy voice. You wash over him like… relief.

“Baby,” he calls out in a whisper, once more moving to look at you — or the darkness below. “You’re awake?”

“Can’t sleep properly. I really hate sleeping in other beds…”

“Right? Me too.” He reaches out for you, hoping you’ll notice the movement, and when your soft fingers get ahold of two of his digits, he breathes out in gratification. “And… I miss you here.”

You hum, rubbing your thumb over his palm, mumbling, “Isn’t it ridiculous? How we can’t go a night like this.”

“Hmm…”

“I miss you, too.”

Patience is a virtue he hasn’t learned yet when it comes to you.

He could wait hours for a hall in the museum to fill. For a visitor to comment on his pieces. He could sit in a room with his father, attempting a conversation; could attempt his whole life to sway your mother’s thoughts. All possible.

But you… distanced from your touch and your lips, not feeling your breath as he does every night is…

Pretty damn shit.

“Wait,” he murmurs, pulling his fingers out of your grip. He hears you mutter a small, “Huh?” as he moves, careful to not hurt himself in the dark.

For the smallest moments, he uses the light of his display to navigate through the limited space, never daring to turn on the flashlight to not wake the entire room. And once he’s touching the ground, agile as a cat, you understand what he’s trying to do.

Quietly, but inefficiently, you protest with just half a heart when he climbs into your bed, telling you to scoot. You say, “Uhm, I… Baby, I don’t know if it’s a good idea—”

But you don’t seem to have much of a say in this matter — because you’re soon outnumbered by Jungkook and his obsession with you, shifting on the bed until you’re nearly pressed against the wall.

He wraps an arm around your waist before the tight space can suffocate you, soon leaning back a little — close to rolling off the mattress? — and pulling you close. The embrace catches your breath more than the cramped area, but it stops your complaints, too.

Winding a little more, you soon find yourself breathing against his chest, a heartbeat right underneath. Your arm reflexively sneaks around him, hugging him close before he laughs and teases, “You were saying?”

“I… I was saying you feel so warm.”

“Mmmh,” he hums, towing you in impossibly close, planting a kiss on your head before resting his cheek against it, “you are, too.”

“Do I feel better than your bed up there?”

“A lot better.” His palm flattens over your back; the scent of his shampoo, his fabric softener and him dizzies you. “Makes me feel a bit less sorry about keeping you awake.”

“Don’t worry,” you sigh into his soft cotton shirt, feeling the lines of his pecs against your lips, “Am exhausted. I’ll fall asleep fast. Especially like this…”

“Oh… glad to be of service then.”

You nod, rubbing his shirt between your fingertips as he moves his hand up and down your lower back, just a little. He yawns against your hair; you know the telltale signs of a drifting mind.

The two of you have gotten used to this. It’s said that pressing something comforting against your chest, such as a pillow or stuffed toy, works wonders on an insomniac mind. You guess that’s what you are for each other.

Even when you’re not home. Even when the space barely suffices for one body.

Which, as you brood over his sudden presence next to you, reminds you—

“You wanted the upper bunk bed,” you tell him. Nothing more; he understands without you needing to elaborate.

He chuckles as quietly as possible to not wake your friends, his hand slipping under your shirt and feather lightly pinching your sides. Not enough to hurt, but enough to tickle you. You nearly yelp, muffling it against his clothes in time.

“Shut up,” he says, thumb running over where he nipped you. “Okay. Do you know why I wanted you to sleep down here?”

You smile. You’re not stupid. As your vision became blurry, your mind shutting just a while ago, the realisation dawned upon you as the seemingly last thought of the night.

“I think I do…” you admit. “I think I figured it out.”

Because.

Because you’ve fallen out of bed one too many times. Because of some days, when you weren’t nestled in his arms as you are now, not caged in solidly, overworked and stressed. Or when you let go of each other in the middle of the night.

And that’s when you rattled down the bed. Just once or twice!

You never got injured or anything, getting away with perhaps a tiny bruise. What was worse was the fond laughter you tolerated when you told him about it, or when he was there and realised. Worried sick, inspecting your body, but still shaking his head in amusement.

Chuckling as he pushed back your hair, but relieved when he found nothing out of the ordinary.

“I’m not gonna risk your clumsy ass to fall off a bunk bed,” he says.

“There’s a raili—”

“Still. One never knows with you. In any case… you’re not getting hurt on vacation, okay?”

You could coo right here, right now. Whisper his name a million times in disbelief and absolute gratitude, melt into him, dampen his shirt. Jungkook is a thoughtful being, alright, but it’s insane that with you, he thinks half a dozen steps ahead.

Mind empty of a response as worthy as his, you settle on a joke, “Is that right? We’ll see about that once we play the game.”

You finish your sentence dramatically, and he answers with a breathy, “Yeah, yeah,” as he kisses your temple. Careful to keep his back off the ladder leading up to his bed, you keep him in your hug, soon detecting in a whisper, “I really mean so much to you.”

“Mhm… So very much.”

It’s too dark to see his expressions clearly; you see him move, see the white of his eyes a little. But even without it, you know he’s blended out the world when you look up at him. You know he’s staring back quietly.

You know what he’s feeling as the tip of his nose touches yours, the bangs of his growing hair grazing your forehead. And when the finger under your shirt draws circles on your skin, touching you so gently, you feel your heart in your throat, hear it in your ears.

Pumping, pumping hard when you see the silhouette’s mouth part before it arrives at yours. Kisses you tenderly. Doesn’t rush or force his tongue in, just lazily moving. 

He cradles your face a moment later, raising your head some more, tilting it as much as possible. The kiss is more like a sequence of innocent pecks, but maybe that’s why the moment feels so intimate.

Because there’s no impatience. No other sentiment but adoration.

As he moves back again, he doesn’t talk right away. Takes a deep breath. Then—

He brushes your tresses aside, away from your temple as his thumb rubs against it gently. His lips hover close to yours, and much like the ever-blooming tiger lily on his golden skin conveys, he whispers, “Love me?”

Your heart.

This treacherous thing — cries and flutters, punctured and whole at once. You’re constantly breathless and speechless, so you wonder how he manages to say, “Please love me, too.”

Doesn’t he know how easy that is? Doesn’t he know who he truly is, what his stardust of a soul is made of? That he was born to be loved. That he’s not responsible for those who do not, rather a ray of serene moonlight who doesn’t need to show anyone that he’s just that.

“No need to beg,” you tell him, “you’ll never need to beg.”

Another beat of silence. He’s smiling, you know. Keeping his heart at bay as much as you are guarding yours. Does he think the same way about you as you do about him?

Of course. Probably. In some sense, you were in the same sinking boat, surrounded by an overwhelming, troubled ocean of doubt; waves of self-hatred drowning you. You know exactly what it’s like to get used to being unloved by everyone; and then to learn to be loved again.

You clear your throat, feeling his body relax; your head returns to his chest, and you say, “You know. It might be a bit uncomfortable, but we could make it work. It’s not that tight—”

“In theory. But we wouldn’t sleep well, right?” he ponders.

Wrong. You soon prove him wrong, unpredictable as you are half of the time when you’re not being familiar to him like the back of his hand.

Because your words soon become slurred, silent not much after, your breathing calm and warm against his chest. Your tiny fist still holds onto his shirt, the blanket alternatively slipping either off him or you.

So he waits until your grip around him loosens. Then, presses a light kiss to your lips, carefully moving away and out of your bed. Ignoring how you hold onto him until the last moment, scared you might awaken again; murmuring in your sleep as you tend to do.

He gently rubs your fist until you uncurl your fingers around his shirt; if he doesn’t do this, he’ll stay here all night. Instead, he furrows his eyebrows in chagrin and yearning; and when your hands move back under your head, he finally bids the first day goodbye and climbs back up.

Eventually descending into dreams of you, too.

DAY 2

The air is much colder up here than you thought.

You can’t recall ever having been on a mountain before; considering your country’s geography, a very ordinary thing that you never really got to experience. Your parents were fans of beaches all over the nation and the globe; didn’t enjoy heights, but depths.

You knew that early on.

Satisfied, however, you hide your mouth in your jacket. You’re glad Eun talked you into packing a thicker jacket and gloves, giving half a dozen logical arguments like the amazing lawyer that she could be. It was fun, packing suitcases together via video calls.

But the wind still hits your ears harshly, and you curse as you get off the cable railway, “Damn it.”

Jimin rubs your arms from behind, the ecstasy clear as day as he cheers, “Come on, no pauses now! We finally made it.”

That you did. No turning back. You’ve wanted this for so long. So you follow the others, walking beside Eun. Her legs are slightly longer than yours, and her steps wider. She proceeds a little faster, so you soon hook your arm with hers, urging yourself to catch up.

You’re relieved when you reach a small platform overlooking not much but the mountain lift and all the stops till the ground. Down below, you recognise the entrance you bought your tickets at. 

Sometimes, along the descent of the mountain, you spot people hiking. They don’t take the lift; they trek up and down, with these cool hiking sticks of theirs.

Jungkook and Taehyung didn’t come with you. Or rather, they’ll arrive a bit after you. Namjoon rang up Jungkook just before you got ready to leave, asking for his apprentice’s time. Something about the gallery and the exhibit.

Yet, extremely sorry, Namjoon told him he could call back later, but Jungkook insisted on listening to what his mentor had to say, presuming it was urgent enough for an interruption in his vacation. And Taehyung stayed with him — partly to not leave him alone, and partly because he’s always dreamed of making an acquaintance with an art connoisseur like Namjoon.

Taehyung apparently has a big thing for art. The only reason Jungkook let him stay at all.

Because when you suggested the same, he rejected your idea without flinching once, prompting you to enjoy these valuable days instead of hanging around at the quiet hostel with him. It took some persuasion and a tender, “Angel, as much as I want you here, I won’t be able to talk to you anyway. I’ll be there in no time.”

So here you are now, content when cold but pleasant air caresses your face. You take in the high trees and the picturesque mountain range; somewhere in the far back, at the horizon, there’s another higher, snow-capped mountain.

And you look for a while, arms wrapped around your knees. Eun remains in a similar position, enjoying the moment; Yoongi and Jimin decide to bask in their joy by capturing the experience in snapped pictures.

Ten minutes later, your group decides to walk on, tramping up a short distance to a bridge Yoongi mentioned earlier. And you guess that’s where your serenity ends.

Because the bridge isn’t as short as you thought. Moves a little, mostly solid, but… holy shit, were you this high up all the time? They say don’t look down in moments like these, but you can’t help, and God, there’s an immeasurable distance between you and the ground and—

It’s not immeasurable. No, you’re an idiot. But you still can’t help it; stare down, gulp.

You reach to the railing with a careful hand. Why do they… how do they…

The others are doing it so easily. The other tourists. And Jimin; moving over it effortlessly, swaying a bit, but airing a sweet laugh. And then even Eun and Yoongi, initially struggling, make their way over, slower than Jimin but courageous nevertheless.

Okay… okay.

You push your phone extra deep into your bag, blinking before you take a deep breathe, repeating a mantra three or four times before you—

Scream.

The surprise of a new voice directly behind you is unwelcome, absolute horror in a moment like this. You flinch hard, reacting, barely hearing the “See?” over the wind before you slap the sudden hands off your shoulders. Your knees are shaking and you’re uncertain who the fingers belong to, but you’re still ready to fight.

The voice isn’t; the startled gasp reveals as much.

You turn, only to find your boyfriend’s eyes ripped open, lips parted. He puffs out a breath, equally frightened at your reaction before his expression turns apologetic. Baffled. Both at once as he exclaims, “Sorry! Sorry, baby.”

“Kook! Timing,” you blurt, scowling in distress, yet immediately holding onto his waist once you’ve grasped the reality enough.

“Angel…” he starts, looking into the hell below. “Are you scared of heights?”

No time to be sarcastic; you don’t have the breath to. So you admit, “A little.”

“I didn’t know,” he breathes, another apology in his words. He kisses your hair to soothe your worries; in some way, it works, even if not enough right now. “I’m sorry. Do you want to go or just stay here? We can stay here.”

His gaze is worried now, and he nods to reassure you, holding onto you. Behind him, Taehyung emerges, comprehending the situation and studying your countenances within the next three seconds until he asks, “All good?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook promises, “you can go ahead if you want.”

“Mmmh,” Taehyung hums; doesn’t sound too sure about leaving the two of you here. “You need a hand? I can go ahead, Jungkook follows.”

Uhh…

“Is that a good idea?” you mumble.

“It could be.”

Could be? And if it isn’t?

Then again. You’re here for a reason. You’d be disappointed with yourself if you just stood here, ruining the chance not only for yourself, but Jungkook, too. You look at him, and he shrugs his shoulders, signalling that it’s up to you.

So you decide, “No, I’ll go. I came here for this, and I don’t know when the next opportunity will arise. Fears exist to be conquered!”

“Hear, hear!” Taehyung cheers, just as Jungkook praises, “See? That’s my girl!”

It helps you, their way to motivate. Cautiously, you place a hand in each of their palms, moving one step after another. They’re determined to take care of you, constantly checking if you’re okay. And it works at first. But.

The bridge seems endless, and the fright yearns to return to you bit by bit. Halfway through, your surroundings look scary enough to put you off balance; you hate that you’re not holding onto anything solid, basically standing freely.

If one falls, all of you do — which, in truth, is sheer impossible. The railing is high enough. But your brain isn’t quite computing properly right now. You let go of Taehyung’s hand, grabbing the railing, but still clutching Jungkook’s grip.

“Go ahead,” your shaky voice commands; and Taehyung nods this time, no other choice left. “It’s okay.”

“I’m right here if you need me,” he vows before walking on.

Jungkook puts an arm around your waist, a human safety rope. His voice is so insanely steady as he spurs you on, “Imagine it’s the amusement park, yeah? Wanna guess the remaining steps? I think it’s… uh… thirty more till the end.”

You exhale, then inhale. Look in front of you instead of down, blinking rapidly before you let out a trembling laugh and counter, “Are you kidding… Looks like a hundred.”

He chuckles with you as you suck in another breath, straightening your back, fixing your gaze on a big rock on the other side. Thinking about how such a vast number of people take these steps every day offers you some courage. Leaves you brave.

So this must be safe, right? Logically seen. You gulp, and then, with your full chest, estimate, “Forty-five! I say forty-five steps.”

And then, you count together. You’re amused when Jungkook curses as you reach twenty without the end anyhow approaching. And just when you take your thirtieth step, he shakes his head in defeat, telling you, “Should know better than to compete with a munchkin.”

You guffaw awkwardly, howling over the wind, “This is actually fun,” not noticing that he’s barely holding you anymore when you jump over to the mainland again.

“What a journey, huh?” Jungkook praises, patting your back. “I’m proud of you. It’ll only get easier from here.”

And it does. As you move on, you soon reach another platform, spiral stairs leading up to the top. It looks a little like the remainder of an old stone tower, half broken, not too high. The stairs were clearly broken; lighter, fresher patches indicate that they were evened out.

Okay, you can do this much, at least.

In fact, you’re the first to climb up, Jungkook treading on your heels, fingers still entwined with yours. And up there, your mouth drops — the view stuns you, frozen in place. The wind blows more fiercely here, but the moment is worth the strong, cold pull of the gust.

Jimin, having reached much before you, must have seen you, because you hear him say, “I know, right?”

Everyone is scattered up here, leaning against the stone wall protecting you from falling. Other tourists are eternalising the moments in pictures, through talking and kissing. Tae and Eun are pointing into the distance, Jimin and Yoongi going around, laughing.

Holy shit. The euphoria filling each one of you is inevitable. Poignant somehow.

You’re above the foggy clouds.

In the far-flung distance, you see the turquoise ocean, merely a day away from wading through its waves; levitating on the sparkling water; thinking back to now and how numerous the miles between are.

And the forests — they’re thick, vast. You wonder what animals inhabit them. Bears? Wolves? Birds you’ve never seen before? Deers and does that have the same eyes as him?

Even the mountain range looks like the sea from here. Is this odd to say? Like high waves, green and dark blue and white and cloudy. So many valleys and so many peaks. Some of them hidden behind the clouds like before.

The birds are flying so close to your heads. And the sun isn’t at its highest point anymore either. You see the horizon coloured in a yellow-ish, orange-ish hue, indicating the nearing sunset.

This was your goal anyway. You wanted to come here late because of these very colours, occupying yourselves with other sights in the morning and the early afternoon. Because you wanted to see what nature bestows upon you.

The mountain will soon be closed for tourists, and in less than an hour, you’ll be heading back down. But you don’t feel any hurry. Nothing matters.

“This…” you finally whisper as you catch yourself, “makes me wanna cry.”

You put your hands on the chest-high stone wall. Jungkook’s arms make themselves home around your body, pulling you in, pushing him close, telling you, “Then cry. Isn’t that what catharsis is about?”

“It’s just so pretty.”

“It is.”

“Like… is this really our world, Jungkook?” You shake your head against him, ruining your hair as his chin moves against your scalp. “The same we saw a few days ago. Those cars and the pressure and the rushing people. All the stress we endure. Or even, our cosy apartment.”

You fill your lungs with the crisp air, more thankful for it than ever. “There’s so much more.”

“There is, right? A lot more,” he confirms.

“Look at this,” you say, chin gesturing towards no particular spot ahead, “wherever there aren’t people to fuck things up, there’s peace like this.” You sniffle; whether due to the temperature or sentiments, you can’t say. “What if we became nomads?”

His laugh is as sudden as your statement, differing so vastly from the rest of the poetry you spat.

He concludes, “I think you’ll really like it back home.” You’re confused until you understand he means his hometown; to that, you nod enthusiastically. “There are so many wonders out there like this one. I want to show you the prettiest places and the prettiest things.”

“…Do you already have something in mind?”

“Of course I do,” he responds matter-of-factly, tapping his finger against your stomach. “I just won’t tell you yet.”

“Ha. I wouldn’t want you to.”

You swallow when he moves in, kissing your cheek, his breath pleasantly warm against your ear. You wait for a second, indulge in the feeling, permitting yourself to believe you’ve transcended this realm and entered another.

But as you hear everyone else’s voices again, laughing and joking and teasing, you remember you’re still very much here, on the same Earth you know. With your everyday thoughts and lives. Which reminds you…

You turn to the side to look at him, his face in immediate proximity to yours. You ask, “What did Namjoon want?”

“Oh, just needed to discuss a couple things. Exhibition.”

“Sounded super urgent, though.”

“I mean, it kinda was,” he answers, catching the strands of hair that the breeze blows into your face, tucking them back, “he needed a status update. We also spoke about the style the gallery collector likes and—”

“Wait. You’re still sticking to your own style, though, right?”

His heart thumps, violently enough to nearly drop out of his chest. When trailblazing artists, already enjoying a remarkable reputation, preach about the relevance of support, this is what they must mean.

Behind someone who does something significant for the world in any way, there’s somebody soothingly rubbing their backs in bad times. Embracing them in success. Pushing them forward, lending them bravery.

You.

You’re who they must be talking about. Unshakably by his side.

“Of course, angel,” he says, “I think having your signature style is always the most important aspect.”

“Good. You’re the coolest, Kook. Just so you know.” His smile is telling, rendering the humble click of his tongue that follows ineffective. He holds you tight, lips close to your temple as you say, “I still don’t know what you’re painting.”

“I will never show you my paintings until an exhibit rolls around. Mostly because you’re my muse. My girl.”

He must think that this doesn’t wreck you inside out. Puts you back together, pieces of puzzles reunited that you didn’t know were lost. You feel something new all the time; is this possible? Surely, there can’t be this many emotions anyway, right?

If you didn’t feel it with your own heart, you wouldn’t believe it…

“But…” you begin, “you’ll let me see those that I don’t inspire, right?”

“Of course. Always.”

Breathing comes easy to you up here. So you do it again. And again. Taking in the oxygen, so entirely different from the one in the city; and soon, you mutter, more to yourself than to anyone else, “This really is pretty.”

He doesn’t answer. There’s no answer to this. Whatever his mind is conjuring and his heart trying to convey doesn’t just have to do with the nature stretching in front of you. Of course it’s gorgeous. Of course, your world’s unique.

Of course, it’s home, and home feels warm, pleasant, familiar.

There’s no doubt that the sight and the moment evoke something rare in him. But he’s seen these things before; when he was younger, he was used to this. What he’s never been used to is people like you.

Those who match nature's fierce, distinctive personality. Those who grow carefully and selflessly; like the trees offering shelter to birds. Or the bees serving as pollinators to provide nourishment for so many creatures out there.

Jungkook doesn’t answer right away because the right response doesn’t come to him immediately. But when he does, he collects his breath, and then voices—

“I love you, angel.”

Your heart skips one or two or three beats. You look at him again.

“People climb mountains, watch the world from above, need to see forests to figure out how good life can be. And that it can be worth living,” he says, his voice velvety soft. “But I feel that way with you every day, you know? I do… I do love you so much.”

You want to say something. You want to pour your heart out. Keep staring at his gentle eyes, serving all confessions at once. But interruptions are expected; so you’re briefly displeased but not surprised when you’re pulled out of your daydream.

Taehyung is gathering the crew behind you, asking for a group picture. You’re soon caught in a short, harmless commotion until everyone has collected at a spot, and you stand in position, yet not before gracing Jungkook one more look.

Mouthing something.

And he sees. In this split moment, he sees and smiles.

If he could be honest… whatever, those mountains. Whatever, them and the adrenaline that comes with them. All the natural phenomena. You’re enough, too — a force of nature, too.

He doesn’t need any mountain peaks when you bring a new high every day.

The lift is crowded as you make your way down again. They stuffed it to the brim, much until a stranger urged staff to stop pushing people in. You’re moved to one end of the cabin while you watch Eun and Jungkook forced into the opposite corner.

Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung will step into the next, and you’ll wait at the exit.

Since it takes barely five minutes to reach the bottom, you don’t fight for a spot next to Jungkook and Eun. Instead, you look down into the depths, waiting until the vehicle finally finishes its dive.

The chatter in the booth is peaceful, but plenty enough for you to blend out any words the other two utter to each other. In that sense, you don’t hear it when Eun says, “You’re both glued to each other, huh?”

Jungkook’s wide, wondering eyes ogle into hers, surprised as he asks, “Is that… bad? Too much?”

“Well, definitely much,” Eun laughs, “but very sweet, too. By all means, don’t change.”

“Ah. Ahhh, that answers one of my questions at least.”

Eun looks at him in curiosity, though entertained and maybe even a little baffled that she’s ever been the object of his attention in any way. So she voices, “Oh? Which one’s that?”

“Just confirms that I have your blessings.”

Eun catches his admission as a popular line from a million movies before, immediately puffing out a laugh. She didn’t anticipate this, out of all things; blinking, somewhat flattered even.

“My blessings?” she repeats. Her smile, combined with the appearing crease between her eyebrows, dips her expression in something that reveals, “Are you joking?”

Which is presumably why Jungkook’s thought shrinks the very next moment, pupils shaking just a little as he mutters, “Well… yeah?”

“Okay. And what if I didn’t give them to you?”

She raises her chin as if in arrogance, but the immediate giggle reveals the playful joke. She shakes her head again, patting his bicep, smitten when his speechless self voices, “Uhm…”

“I’m just messing with you,” she clarifies, watching one corner of his lips rise. “But also, why is it needed, you know? Would you leave her if I didn’t bless you two? Or stop loving her?”

Jungkook’s surprised about the L-drop; of all people, Eun must have known from the very beginning that he loved you. There’s no bewilderment in her voice; she emits the word casually.

He blinks, albeit discarding all preceding hesitation immediately as he admits, “No.”

“Exactly,” Eun agrees, wiggling a finger with a wise, subtle nod on the side, “you don’t need my blessings. If you’re sure about her, you don’t need anyone’s. I’ll trust the process.”

That’s it.

No ominous warnings, no playful best-friend-threats. She trusts in his certainty as much as he does; and where would the two of you be, what would all of this be if he didn’t? No. Not a trace of doubt.

Not if every smile matching yours expresses a silent I adore you. Or if every exhale against your shoulder reveals a promising I want you.

Not if everything he’s still about to do breathes a whisper of a soft I’ve been thinking of you all this time.

“But,” Eun continues; Jungkook’s ears perk up, “if you need to know. I do adore you two together. I know I tease you and stuff, but I’ve never seen a cuter couple.”

“Ah. Even cuter than you and Tae?”

“Much. We’re not the sappy kind. Or well, he is, but… you’re straight up sugar. Makes me sick.”

Jungkook laughs, spying over his shoulder, seeing a glimpse of you as you look out of the window in wonder. “Well, she makes up most of that sweetness.”

“Maybe. God,” Eun exclaims as if agitated, and when he looks at her again, her teeth are gritted, eyes squinting hard before she opens them again. Adding, “Sometimes I wanna grab her face and squish her.”

“The most precious, right?”

“Isn’t she?”

Somebody to kill for. Somebody with a face that doesn’t fit tears. The world did you wrong, but you exist to be happy. You’re deserving of it; you could be the most enthusiastic soul if the universe allowed you.

No, fuck it. Fuck the universe.

He’s here, right? He can do it, too. Guard you from harm; keep your smile plastered there.

And as if reading his mind, Eun continues, “I’ve always hated seeing her sad. She deserves the world, and shit always hit the fan when she was so close to finding the joy I always wanted her to have. Does this sound dumb?”

No, it doesn’t. In fact, Eun’s very truth pricks his heart like a fine needle. Because in a sense, he was also once a reason for stripping you off that happiness; but he’s made up for it. He so deeply hopes he made up for it.

“It sounds just right,” he says.

“I don’t know if you already know, but you won’t meet anyone purer. Not saying this as her best friend… it’s true.” She shrugs a shoulder, as if to dismiss the corny statements; she truly isn’t a mawkish one. “So it’s a big deal to say I want you close to her.”

Her eyes shift away from him and straight to you; there’s a gap between all the people, allowing a glance at you. And when Jungkook follows Eun’s gaze, you seem to feel it somehow, his eyes like Cupid’s arrows in your back until you meet their attention.

Your lips promptly form the most saccharine smile, an unsure hand lifting; somebody next to you immerses themselves in the brief interaction, looking to and fro between Jungkook and you.

And Jungkook waves back, watching your chest rise and fall in satisfaction rooted in nothing but the untroubled moment. Right there, you hold not one but two hearts hidden. His bleeding organ thumps, but it’s as if he hears it from where you stand.

Slowly, stare dropping to his feet, he nods, love clumping up his throat, a barrier for the words wanting to escape. Instead, he basks in the things Eun said, repeating them over and over in his head until he merely susurrates—

“Thank you, Eun.”

“Here you are.”

Jungkook is soft-spoken, his voice mellow; a textbook definition of a lullaby. Which is possibly why you’re so surprised when it breaks the fall air so loudly, echoing through the empty space.

You flinch before you reflexively turn, watching his body tower on the other side. The lights of the swimming pool illuminate his face, and even from here, you recognise the bright, gorgeous, twinkling eyes immediately. They’re not hidden behind his bangs this time; his damp hair is pushed back.

Maybe you could focus on that unusual sight of his forehead if there wasn’t the entire rest of him. Hands in the pockets of the open bathrobe he’s sporting, mere boxers hiding his most important parts, but the rest of him naked. Tits out, abs sharp.

You flash him a smile from where you’re floating, pushing yourself off the edge and swimming towards him. You see his reflection in the water, blurry, moving, somewhat funny. As you near him, he drops to his knees, crouching for a second before dipping his legs into the pool. Sitting down, remaining there, waiting for you.

Getting ahold of his calf, you pull yourself in for the last few feet. He reaches out without hesitation as your shoulders collide with his legs underwater; gentle fingers tuck your soaked hair behind your ears.

“I was looking for you,” he says.

“Oh, I just got here a couple minutes ago. Making the best out of the remaining time.”

“Yeah. I just showered for a few minutes, too.” He pauses. Looks around the vacant pool save from the two of you, humming before he asks, “Hey, do you need a moment to yourself?”

Your eyes widen as you look up, his expression suddenly cautious, as if he’s intruding your personal space. Curiously, you merely voice, “What?”

“Just. I know there’s been a lot of interaction these days, so I get it if you need a break.” His finger moves to his temple, drawing circles in the air. “My battery almost ran out, too.”

Oh. Oh…

If there was a way to hide your flattered smile, you still wouldn’t. God, if he knew how rare of a person he is. How uniquely humane. If he knew that not everybody’s ready to offer space despite knowing that somebody requires it at times.

You know enough people who put the blame on themselves; deem themselves victims. If you can’t be there for them, it’s something they have done wrong. Not the fact that you need peace, a moment to yourself.

Jungkook knows. Jungkook understands.

Has seen you run out of energy and crave a quiet evening. But you immediately shake your head, touched, “Oh, no. I actually knew you’d find me here. Hoped for it.”

“Is that right?” he says, relieved, grazing your cheek as you put your chin onto his leg. Muscly, thick thighs, yet like a pillow.

You nod. Look up to him properly, a little distracted, very mesmerised. It’s outrageously insane, how he’s perched there like he’s allowed to. As if it doesn’t clearly state in your book that it’s illegal to look this way, that it should be retaliated somehow.

“It’s been a while since we were alone,” you tell him, “feels like we didn’t have many moments to ourselves.”

“Then, this is convenient, isn’t it? An empty pool in the evening. Very cliché.”

You laugh a little, tilting your head and ignoring the goosebumps that arise when he touches the sweet spot behind your ear. Hands exploring. You respond, “Others are probably too tired to be here. Or too cold. We’re the only crazy ones here.”

“It’s warm enough, though,” he argues, sniffling, as if to contradict his point — there’s something funny about it. “I bet it’s wet and grey back home.” A click of his tongue, watching you nod in agreement; after a beat of silence, he wonders, “Are you looking forward to tomorrow?”

Exhilaration inundates your chest without a warning, as is common with this very conversation topic. You can barely fathom that you talked about this for weeks straight, and now you have only a few hours left until the awaited day finally breaks in.

Jungkook must be seeing the change in your pupils, because he smiles when you do, nodding with an open mouth as you cheer jubilantly, “A lot! It’ll be a long day, we’ll be exhausted, but… got a feeling it’ll be worth it all.”

“Yeah, but like. I think we can rest a lot after that, though,” he explains, flashing a wink to your astonishment. “My childhood bedroom is cosy.”

“I’d hope so. We won’t be leaving it.”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes in jest before he agrees, “Of course not. Duh. Except for the wedding.”

“Except for the wedding… sure,” you repeat, as if reluctantly.

As you put both your arms on top of his thighs, Jungkook uses the moment to let his stare dawdle; right there where yours lingered two minutes ago. His head moves slowly, taking in the wide, endless view behind you.

The sky above and the stars attached to it. The tiny mountains far away and the forests next to them. The world looks as wide as it truly is, stunningly bedazzling; infinite from where he sits here with your touch so close.

There’s a sense of disbelief in the fact that, despite the crazy vastness of the world, it’s you who found your way to him, inches away. If luck exists, this must be it, right?

But he doesn’t say any of it — don’t you already know? What if he lovebombs too much, frightens you away. So instead, his fingers shift to your face, much cooler to the touch than before, and he queries, “Aren’t you cold?”

You shake your head, however, stating, “Not yet. Or… maybe a little. You can help me warm up?”

Jungkook cocks an eyebrow in disbelief; something about the way he looks down at you with such power lets something in you loose that floods your entire body. You wouldn’t mind if he…

“Isn’t this another cliché?” he asks.

“How so?”

“You’ll make me jump in, huh? Or no, wait. You’re a brat,” he establishes as if remembering just now, rethinking his choice of words. “No… you’ll pull me in.”

“What? I won’t.”

“How do I know that, though?”

“I mean, technically, you don’t, and yes, I realise that doesn’t help,” you blabber, tone shifting when he shakes his head with a laugh, “but, you did just shower. I wouldn’t want you to waste more time showering afterwards.”

He looks sceptical to no end; squinting his eyes, biting his lower lip, furrowing his eyebrows — the whole package. Leaning in, he lets you know, “I don’t trust you this once, but…”

And that’s where his sentence ends. The words unspoken are replaced by another movement closing the gap between the two of you. He grabs your chin, moving your head up, bending his back enough to draw closer to your lips.

The phantom touch and his warm breath cause a strange, crackling sound somewhere in your brain — a bulb going out, your mind breaking. Shutting down. But your body lights up as he cradles your face, every single inch of your skin craving his all.

The knowledge about his affection and that he yearns for you like no other man on Earth blurs your reality, as if you don’t belong into a utopian world like this. As if you’re from another corner of the multiverse, incredibly lucky by accident.

Weird, weird how all of these thoughts trigger disbelief and thorough rapture in you, but how empty-headed you are at the same. Almost enough to fully lose yourself until—

The man leans back, intentionally teasing you, just a little but enough for you to fall out of your immersion. You chase his lips for a second, long enough to make him laugh. But as you find your composure, looking at the shit-eating grin, you land a decision.

“Unfair,” you say, pouting, predicting for him to coo, which occurs just a moment later.

You remain at your spot, not a lot of options either way as he still holds your face. Then wait. See him get a hold of himself before he mutters, “My pretty angel. Pouty little sweetheart of mine, hm?” twice, then thrice and then closes in again.

Thumbs skim the apples of your cheek, nose rubbing against yours, his own scrunched. He looks so happy with himself, but so charmed by you, too, squishing your face as if handling cuteness-aggression.

Calls you plenty of pet names as he kisses your nose, your cheek, your earlobe and then moves in for an actual kiss.

Only this time, no matter how much you yearn for his lips, rosy and wet and sweet and tender — you can’t let him beat you. So you prepare for the retaliation you considered before, and just as new goosebumps arise on your arms, wanting the kiss, you suppress the desire and—

“Fu—”

The curse falls out of him suddenly, just a second after he closes his eyes and you use the moment of weakness to put your hands at the back of his neck. Pulling him in without a warning, watching him lose balance and splash into the pool.

He struggles a little underwater before he breaks the surface; hands reach for you with an intent to revenge, but you dodge him. He gasps, shaking his head, going through the trouble of wiping the water off his eyes before opening them.

You swim away a little, carefully, just to be sure; watching him cough a bit before he laughs. He can’t help but scoff, more curses falling out of him, but never towards you. Only a reprimanding, “Angel, you’re— you brat." Another cough. "You’re too much.”

And as his eyes finally land on you, he immediately charges for you, jaw clenched, teeth gritted, but pure amusement gracing his features. You try to get away, but he’s faster. Moves in the water as he strips himself off the bathrobe.

The image makes you choke.

How ethereal yet sinful of a moment. Tempting as he pulls it off his strong shoulders, revealing the bulging bicep, throwing the bathrobe to the side with an absolute indescribable, fiery aura.

Teeth pull at his lower lip before they instantly release it. Then the tongue, running over glistening lips, eyes hooded, the bathrobe sitting where he did without him even regarding it. Like a villain who sets a house on fire and then walks away without looking, badass to the core.

Fuck, he’s broad. And fuck, he’s coming right for you.

You try to flee, hysterically laughing, probably too loud; but he’s a fast swimmer, arms soon around your waist, wrapping around you, tugging you in. He whispers into your ear, “Talking about clichés, baby, huh?”

As he holds you there, you swallow some water, spitting it out right away before you answer, “Well… there’s a reason why they’re clichés.”

“Not wanting to waste my time showering, my ass.”

“You’re saying it sounds like a bad idea?” you whisper, breathless as he kisses your shoulder, his soft voice muttering a little, “What?” before you clarify, “Showering with me?”

“Nah. Stop planting this thought in my head,” he says, lips continuing at your neck, kissing it gently first before he morphs the touch into a wet, open-mouthed kiss.

You try to stay afloat, but god, you’ll drown if he keeps that up. But then he adds, much to your already existing misery, “Stop or I swear, we won’t even make it to the damn shower. Understood?”

“Beast—”

“You say as if you don’t know me already. Don’t you know?” he asks, pausing, kiss moving to your jaw. “That I get like this with you?”

“I… I do, so well. Not even this is surprising to me.”

You press yourself into him harder, feeling the bulge hardening below, right against your thigh. Your hand drops from his shoulder to his slim waist, further down until it gives his hard-on the slightest of touches. He groans; gives you a head tilt as a warning.

Then kisses your cheek. The corner of your lips; tickles you, pinches your waist. You engulf him a bit more, trying not to pull the two of you underwater, swimming and floating. It’s hard, though, and harder even when he tickles you again.

He must understand, because as you push him away, swimming away a couple feet, he doesn’t tow you back in. Lets you go as your vision blurs, the movements of your arms hectic enough to push more water into your eyes.

You dip below the surface for a second, regaining control, and when you’re up again, you hear his voice farther away, urging, “Come on.”

And once you see him again clearly, he’s already wading to the edge where you stood when he scared you. Right where the view to the town is the best, the pool and roof separated from the depths by a high glass wall.

You follow slowly, stroking for a moment — but it doesn’t take you long to pause again halfway through. Gliding, you watch his arms coming up and settling on the edge, muscular and mountainous like the range far away. Hair wet, water drops drip onto his already doused back.

And in front of him, a lake you couldn’t see from the other side of the pool.

Then, the mountains, like the one you went on. A village and fields and up above, a painting of stars. Millions and millions of them. Sparkling, alive, dead, moving, closer, farther… burning and bright. Reflecting in the lake, along with the moon.

His head moves to the side, probably looking for you; but you don’t move yet, just admiring the side profile for a little longer. Gorgeous, lips formed as if drawn, a clean-cut, razor sharp jaw. Golden back, broad.

As he peeks over his shoulder again, doe eyes searching for you, you finally swim towards him the moment he pleads, “Come, baby.”

And you do. Put your hands on his shoulders again, kissing his back, his neck, his shoulder blade before you settle right next to him. Imitating his position.

He says, “One could almost forget that we’re leaving in two hours. Ahh, I want to stay here.”

Right. Your group decided to check out in the late evening tonight — an exception at this hostel — to make the most of the day on the mountain and at dinner. But in a while, you’ll set out for your new destination. The beach calls for you.

You’ll check in late at night over there, and then remain at the new hotel — no hostel this time — until the day after tomorrow.

“Yeah. Just a bit more,” you say, sighing before you let him know, “By the way… I do feel a lot warmer now.”

“Good,” he says, although you don’t miss the beguiled smile he flashes as he looks away, “anything for you to not get sick.” He nudges your elbow with his. “Not before the big day.”

No, not the big day. If anything, you’re even more overjoyed over it than tomorrow. And nervous — oh, so nervous. You don’t think you’ll feel any different until the day rolls around.

What will happen at the wedding? What’s the atmosphere like in a smaller gathering? What does the magic of such a place elicit? It must be so different from any event in the city.

Could it make you fall in love with him with further desperate urgency? Seeing him standing there, admiring you in your dress, thoughts whirling as the couple of the night promises each other eternity. Does the romantic serenity of a wedding make hearts of those in love burst more?

No. You don’t think it’ll make you fall for him harder — because you don’t need a wedding for that.

A moment like this suffices.

Yet. As you stare ahead, fixing your eyes on the clouds, you remember something. Curious as you think back to the first day and ask, “Hey. What did Jimin mean when he said I should be excited for the wedding? What does he know?”

Jungkook sighs, shaking his head at your friend’s slip-up. He smirks, and then says, “Well, you’ll see at the wedding, right?”

“…Jungkook,” you challenge, and he looks at you so innocently, hiding whatever secret he shares with Jimin. But you don’t fall for it, ideas already brewing in your mind; one blurted as you ask, “Did you get me something?”

But he’s unfazed — a good actor. “Wait up,” he says, “if you’ve got any theories, keep them to yourself, though! You’re too smart for me.”

“C’mon, as if.” You wait. Wait a bit more, pupils shaking, just slightly distracted when he frees your cheek off your hair again, giving you a chaste peck. “Wait. Oh.”

He chuckles, a little lost in you as he copies, “Oh?”

“Jeon Jungkook… are you proposing?”

And that’s when he breaks into a laugh. A loud one, Jungkook-esque, sweet and genuine, with his eyes nearly closed, mouth open wide. So, so enchanting as he says, “I did not expect that. But sure, that’s what it is.”

“Well, that cancels it out.”

“Oh, baby…” He pinches your chin between his thumb and forefinger, moving your head to look at him, kisses you again, just for a fleeting second. “You’re so cute. So, so cute. I love your cute ass so much.”

Butterflies, butterflies, butterflies.

They never cease. You don’t think you’ll ever get over this word. You don’t think there’s a way to get used to Jeon Jungkook confessing his love — his love — for you.

Ugh, he drives you mad. Into absolute insanity.

Sucks you out of breath, your heart palpitations reasoned in him. Your body craves him; not cold anymore at all. Tingling and wanting.

Starved for him, you look into his dark eyes, intrigued by the wet bangs, and with all the patience you can muster, you finally whisper, “Let’s go and hurry to that damn hotel. Hm?”

DAY 3

You love packing your bags, but you hate reorganising them. Like, stuffing back dirty clothes because there’s nowhere else for them to go, changing your initial order. 

You won’t empty your suitcase for that one remaining day anymore; you’ll only be here for another night anyway.

But you want to separate the worn stuff from the clean one. Thankfully, your suitcase is spacious enough; after all, there’s no chance in hell you’re having your soon-to-be-messy swimsuit reside right next to your resplendent dress.

Yawning as you rummage through your things, you shoot a fleeting glance at the ticking clock at the wall. It’s only 8 o’clock in the morning. Breakfast has already started, but you and the others longed to sleep in, agreeing on a 9 AM meal.

But for some reason, the two of you already awoke about half an hour ago; nevermind that today’s schedule doesn’t begin before noon.

For some time, you merely lay on your sides of the bed, enjoying each other’s company, brief kisses here, modest touches there — until you decided to make yourselves useful. Still tired, yet unable to fall back into sleep, being productive was all you could do.

Albeit, you’re distracted. Your mind keeps drifting, your heart still pounding thinking about the shower last night, taken right as you checked in and found your room. Not as tired from the busy day and the two-hours-drive to the hotel anymore when he touched you.

You still feel the ghost touch of his palm around your neck; glistening lips exploring your cheek and your jaw.

And… there are bruises on your leg somewhere, reminiscent of when he dragged you into bed, keeping your thighs apart with a grip passionately aggressive. Loving yet brutal. Uttering admissions that still coat your flesh with goosebumps.

Shit, are you grateful for the proper room. All to yourselves at last.

You cover your naked thigh. The oversized shirt barely hides his effect on you, but he seems rather distracted anyway. Of course he is — whenever he spies the lavender dress, like now, he becomes one hell of a goner.

He fishes it out by ruining some of your tidiness, the folded top and two shorts falling out as he pulls the dress from underneath them. You complain, “Hey!”

But he’s still examining the gown, shaking his head once again as he did the last few days whenever he caught a glimpse of it. You still remember his reaction when you first brought it home, presenting it to him but not yet putting it on.

You assured him you looked hot in it beyond hell, but that he’d have to wait to actually see you wrapped in it.

His eyes were still wide, alright. Mouth drooling. And you understand — when you first laid eyes on it, you knew it was made to be yours: soft, pastel pink hue. Dreamy and ethereal. Shit, you can’t wait to wear it.

Apparently, he can’t either.

Because he declares, “You’re gonna be so fucking pretty in this.”

“You told me.”

“And I’ll keep doing so. My god, I’ll need to keep an eye on you all night!”

You laugh. “Ah? Why?”

He shrugs a shoulder, explaining matter-of-factly, “Some of my friends there are still single. Gotta shield you from their shit. I mean, they loyally respect me, but then again… it’s you.”

“Oh, oh,” you voice, tutting, “and the girls? Are some of them single, too?”

“Well, I guess so, but—”

“Nothing but. I’ve seen you in a suit before, mister. What if some of them are girls from your high school? What if they had a crush on you? Fuck it, they all probably did,” you ramble, and he listens, lips twitching; he forces the laugh back. “No, you’re sticking by my side that night, Jeon.”

You raise a finger, wiggling it like a warning, blabbing the most ridiculous, “No running away with other chicks.”

“As if, you idiot,” he jests, “even if I got shitfaced as heck and you carried me home and I didn’t realise it was you? And you pretended to be somebody else — I’d still tell you that I need to go fetch my girlfriend.”

You cover your mouth as laughter fills the air; you’re sure your eyes are sparkling at the fantasy, and your voice changes, euphoric to an unknown extent as you say, “Oh my god. I so want to witness that one day. I’m gonna try to get there.”

“I believe you. What else will you be wearing? This? Wait,” he asks, picking out a silk and lace lingerie from the side; baby pink. But you snatch it out of his hands as he adds, “Is this part of your attire?”

“Well, now you ruined a perfect surprise.”

“What! I don’t think I did, though? Wait for my reaction. It won’t be any less than you expect.”

You smack your lips in faux disappointment, but in truth, you get it very well. Seeing him always feels new to you, too.

You brush your hand across the fluffy carpet as he eyes the dress once more, waiting until he’s folded it neatly again, putting it into your suitcase. Then, he leans against the bed, observing as you get back to work.

Your lips open, pouting a bit. You give the sweetest, most genuine reactions; how you form an Oh with your mouth when you like something you brought. Or how disgusted you look when you’re reminded of your two-days-old clothes again.

You mutter, “Gonna have to ask your mom if she’s okay with me using your washing machine.”

“She will be, for sure.”

“I’ll even hang them to dry myself.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm! Shit, Jungkook. I’m so excited!” you exclaim, fingers moving fast over your stuff, and he keeps watching. “I wanna tattle about you with your mom! And I can’t wait to meet Ria, either. She sounds so cool and—” You peer up at him, and when you catch him smiling, you wonder, “What?”

“Nothing, just…”

He shrugs another shoulder, already moving to close your suitcase. You watch with an innocent curiosity in your eyes, hands on your knees as he pushes it away. He reaches for your wrists to pull you closer until you’re between his legs, your own crossed, obliging wordlessly.

Then, he speaks again, “Can you kiss me? Really wanna kiss you.”

He always wants to kiss you. And staring at these rosy, pretty lips of his, arched so prettily, you don’t think you fare any better.

So you’re walking on air when his hands settle on your waist to tickle you, forcing you to relocate them down to your hips. You ask, “Do you ever get enough?”

“Hmm… Do I look like I do?"

“I mean. Do you really just want to kiss me, baby?” you inquire, but he’s already onto pecking your lips, pulling at them. You place your arms around his neck. “Your eyes look just like they did yesterday.”

“Ah, really?” A featherlight kiss on your neck. “So I won’t have my wish granted?”

“You… You’re stupid,” is all you say before you prove him wrong — diving in, locking your lips, moving them slowly against his, in unison.

You tilt your head immediately. Kiss him deeper, seeking his hair. His hands wander to your back, and you arch it when he hauls you closer. Your tongues come into motion at the very same time, a touch intense enough for him to breathe a sigh that you feel, that you hear.

And before you know it, you’re moving further; straddling him. He pushes your shirt up, only to the small of your back; the other hand moves down to your ass, nothing on you but your underwear. And considering it’s a string, not even that matters.

He has free reign to your rear, squeezing and slapping lightly. At which you lean back, breathless, giggling a little as you watch him move back in — trying to catch another kiss, eyes drooping and lips parted.

But when he realises you’re pausing, not granting him what he needs, he looks up into your eyes. You say, “Thought so. That’s,” you touch his hand over your ass, “what your eyes said. Even after you wrecked me just last night, huh?”

“Sorry,” he mutters with a grin — but his expression soon changes. Back once more against the bed, he promises, “I… if you don’t want to, we don’t have to though. I’m okay with just organising our stuff or chilling.”

Oh, the way he touches your heart…

You blink, affection in your pupils reflecting in his. You coo, and then call, “Oh, baby…”

“No, seriously. Whatever you’re comfortable with, my love.”

“I’m… I’m comfortable with you, you know? If I ever feel like not doing something or disagreeing with you… I’ll be honest with you.”

He silences for a moment. Keeps gaping at you. Then, “Do you feel like you can?”

But no matter how deep his insecurities are, your answer is immediate, “Always.” Swift pause. “Kook, I— I know you still fear I could distance myself from you. I see it, but… I won’t. As long as you’re willing to stay, I will, too.”

“I will. I promise. And I’ll never ever do anything to hurt you again. Not on purpose… okay?”

Hmm… you wish these moments were rare. It does happen ever so often that he seeks reassurance and vows; your companionship, regardless of what lies in your pasts. To know you’re here despite all the despites.

But if you need to, you’ll keep dispeling his fears all your life.

So you say, “I know. I know.” Brushing through his hair. “And I want this.”

“It won’t hurt? We just did last night—”

“If it does, we can stop. I always want you. Besides…” You circle over his lap, your hips a tease. You feel the bulge stir. “I can’t blueball you.”

Jungkook smirks in the way only he’s able to, clutching your butt again, and you catch your lower lip with your teeth. He states, “Brat, acting like it’d be the first time.”

“You’re just… so hard already. Can’t do this to you. Or me. Not today.”

“Babe… you being so sweet makes it worse. And this isn’t even its final state, you know?”

“Of course I know.”

Oh, of course you do. Whenever you think it can’t get crazier, he negates your beliefs. Well equipped as he is, your man, the thought suddenly makes you want to unwrap him again, like a gift crafted just for you.

He’s in a black tank top; tattoos reach up to his shoulder, muscles flexing as he holds you. You touch them, sneaking further to his wrist, and then take the plunge and lead his forefinger into your mouth. Then, you suck.

Upon which his eyes immediately shut. He draws a deep, shaky breath, barely exhaling much of it when you twirl your tongue around the tip of his finger. Absent-minded yet fully aware, he shakes his head, taking a moment to compute before he pulls his digit out again.

His cock twitches beneath you, much as a last warning.

And a second later, out of the blue, there’s a hand on the nape of your neck while the other shifts to your buttbone, pushing you to the ground with his body in tow. You fall flat on your back, his face right above you. Lips crash against yours again, strong hands pinning your arms down.

“You’re so brave,” he deduces, “like you forgot yesterday.”

“I could never. Maybe… maybe I’m just trying to repeat it.”

“Oh… smart, smart. If that’s your wish.”

Cocky, how he tilts his head and winks. How he pushes your thong aside without a warning, already damp, freeing your pussy before his touch collides with it. Fondling with it; making you release a pleased sigh. Gaze still set on you firmly, fingers running up and down. To the clit.

You’re already out of your good mind; but you attempt a fair approach; a mutual effort in which you try your best to push his shorts down. He’s not wearing anything underneath… you know because he threw them on last night after the chaos that ensued, wanting to rush to you. To sleep in peace.

And he’s well aware of it, because as it slides down to his knees, he dares a step further. Fists his cock and replaces his fingers when he drags the tip up and down your heat. You sigh again before it contorts into a moan, gripping him, pleading, “Kiss me again?”

“Not yet. I wanna see you wind.”

“Why…? You’re so mean—”

“Just now. Come on. Look at me.”

You do. You’re met with a hungry beast who’s yearning for you, simultaneously so soft — easing you into this, not dipping his fingers in just yet. Discovering how you feel; how soaked you get; how far he can already proceed.

He might be craving you, but he’s not stupid; he’s cautious. Gauging your reaction.

This man… this man…

“Want me to push it in?” Jungkook then questions, making your eyes rip open; you didn’t expect the inquiry this soon, but you’re not opposed to it at all.

You nod, eyebrows furrowed. Your voice is feeble when you agree, “Please.”

“Please, yeah?” he repeats, just the head prodding your entrance — but then, he chuckles. “Baby. Take care of yourself when I can’t. I can’t fucking think, you know? But even I know you’re not ready yet.”

“I…”

“Just a bit more, okay?” He slaps your pussy; you wince. “Wanna get up and undress?”

“No,” you instantly blurt, “want you like this. Right now. I don’t care about the shirt.”

“Right… so that’s how it is.”

He leaves the two of you just the way you are, except kicking off the bothersome shorts. Pushes your shirt up to your tits, too, stopping right underneath the mounds, still covering them. He leaves it there, dizzy about how your nipples perk against the white shirt, just above the Kakashi Hatake print.

Huh.

“Is this my shirt, by the way? You stole it, didn’t you?” he gathers.

You pretend, playing the innocent lamb, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I can’t believe you. Stealing my clothes… and my perfumes,” he recollects, his voice going up and down. He’s referring to the time you used his cologne just to keep his scent close; once. He was very amused by it. “What’s next? My heart?”

Only that you already exchanged both of yours. He knows, because he can’t really feel his own heart beat, but yours. After all, your chest houses his thumps, not his.

But he still clicks his tongue; kisses down your body, caressing your sides, and then shoves your panties aside. He spits on your pussy so indecently, in a manner so filthy that it affects your entire body.

The sharp tip of his tongue is the first to taste you. The first to intrude. Lightly and softly, he attempts a touch, anticipating a reaction that he barely needs to wait longer for than a nano-second. Because your body blooms immediately, your pussy constricting.

There’s never a single reason for him to react with surprise; if anybody in this world understands your body as well as you, it’s him. He knows you to the tiniest detail; so why the astonished, “Oh? Oh, oh…”

Then again, maybe that’s all that’s necessary to set the mood further; he doesn’t elaborate on it, nor does he ask any questions. Instead, he French kisses your cunt with the techniques he’s mastered to the core. With each time you spend with him like this, he gets better.

Because he knows when to draw back, when to return. When to kiss you again, when to pull at the nether lips. Or when to nibble just lightly, when to use his tongue. It’s obvious in the twitches of your legs, and how he needs to keep them in place each time — hence, the bruises.

Your head lifts when he angles your right leg on the side, enabling better access to where he wants to drown. And when he comes back, he seems starved; maybe he needs that promised breakfast soon to come. Or maybe not; maybe he’ll feast on you enough.

Because he’s thorough; does enough work on you to divulge, “Maybe I was wrong and you are ready after all.”

“…M-maybe.”

“Wish we’d brought the sex toys. Man, I want to…” He touches your clit, painting patterns, a steady and diligent artist’s hand; and you can’t help but imagine it’s the vibrator he often handles. “Wouldn’t that be good?”

“Don’t… do this to me.”

A smug chuckle. “Sorry, bae.”

Ever since he gave you the damn toys months ago, he’s teased you about them constantly. And ever since you started inhabiting the same walls as him, he’s prompted orgasm after orgasm. God, the last few weeks alone, he’d revel in your whines.

Overstimulating, keeping you awake on weekends, battering your cunt and your nub. Nerves on fire. Tears of pleasure and sobs of exhilaration.

“Jungkook…” you start. He hums, but your brain blanks; you think about whatever you were going to say until you remember and jabber, “We’d never get t-to breakfast then.”

“So? I’d still be having mine.”

Thought so.

“But…” you argue, no clue why at all. “They’d be waiting.”

“I think they’re just as bad as we are. C’mon.”

You laugh before you mewl; insane when he buries himself in your sex, tongue in a whirl, plump lips operating so agonisingly skilled. He heaves your legs onto his shoulders; everything feels wet and warm and dirty.

Nerves burning again; your entire neural system is alight like a torch, buzzing like electricity.

And you want to close your legs but you can’t.

The motion only covers his ears, much to his disdain as he says, “Stop… I can’t hear you like this,” before dragging his tongue down again. Pushing your body up, he grips your ass, pulling the cheeks apart before he licks over the string just for a moment. Then suggests, “What if we added something to our collection one day? Hmm?”

His thumb toys right over your clenching hole; you grasp for a breath, airheaded as you admit, “I… don’t know yet.”

“Fine. There’s time.”

There is, but you want it to pass faster. Want him over you, around you. And maybe he can read your thoughts after all, because a second later, he’s uprighting himself; once again slapping his dick against your drenched mess. Hiding it between your folds as he rubs it up and down.

Then moves it side to side rapidly, helping himself, pumping until he’s grown impossibly solid. On his knees, he shifts on the mattress until he’s kneeling right over your face, and you raise your head, mouth ready and open without a single command necessary.

He’s chuffed about your keenness; breathes out a laugh as he drags his cock between your lips and onto your tongue. You’re rigorous, his good girl, sucking right away.

Fuck, he savours the moment much like you are; watching the saliva drip down your cheek obscenely. It covers his dick, much of it enveloped by your mouth; the picture of you barely being able to take half of him in this position yet trying sends him into pure madness.

And when your tongue teases his slit and the head, he thinks he’s dying and being reborn.

“I’m dying and being reborn, babe. What the fuck,” he repeats, immediately regretting it when he realises he spoke it out loud; because you’re right beneath him, eyes foggy but the sudden giggle entirely contrary.

“Glad to hear.”

Jungkook uses the separation from your lips to back away already; any longer and he’ll have to help you rinse out your eyes. He leans down again, kissing you, hips aligning with yours as he prepares for the next step.

He’s gentle as he places your hands on his shoulders, and you already understand why. Already make yourself comfortable, getting into position as if for war, already realising that you need him to kiss you or your scream will shatter the building—

“Careful now,” he still warns, right before he reads your wish off your eyes and dives back in for more making out. You nod; you know. Your neighbours don’t need to—

Fuck.

Fuck, how big he feels when he digs in, not even fully inside yet.

Isn’t it just a bit more than the head so far? You bite your lip when you hear yourself whine, suppressing it, eyes watery. Your mouth transforms into a thin line, but Jungkook opens it with his finger; telling you, “I don’t care who hears.”

Okay. Okay. Then… you’ll stop holding back, right? You moan and call his name, hearing in his tender sounds and overjoyed, endlessly breathy and quiet laugh that he’s loving it. He asks, “Can I go farther in?”

“Thought you’d never ask…” Yet, it doesn’t happen. He refuses for some reason; which is why you work towards him instead, your hips upthrusting. Pushing at his ass, knowing how much he’s enjoying your helplessness. You say, “You are mean.”

“Mhm… especially to you, right?”

“Especially to me,” you laugh. “You say you love me and then edge me? Prove it, won’t you?”

“Ohhhh no.” He drags out the syllable, a sudden change in his tone, as if you’ve purposely teased him to a challenge. A you did not just say that kind of vibe. “You will not doubt that I love you. Fuck no.”

He buries his face in your clothed tits, kisses the spot between them; one hand envelops your left side before he lets go and gets serious. Kicks his shorts away and then— bottoms out. His balls clash against your ass, your eyes rolling back. His words ring in your ears.

And then, he’s already dragging himself out before plunging back in. Hard. Remains like this. Then out again; all the way in again, harder. Repeating it with a hand on your neck; but the moment, much to your irritation, doesn’t prolong at all.

Jungkook must have been quick to make a decision to torment you today when you first kissed him ten minutes ago. Because he fully draws back, leaving you empty, a hand on the back of your head as he mutters his thoughts to you, “Am craving this mouth… Get up.”

You, like his personal doll with a sudden lack of feminism in your body, get on your knees without hesitation. Your hands remain between your legs, as if waiting for him to put a leash on you; rubbing yourself against the soft carpet until he stops your antics and grips your cheeks.

He urges you to open up, pressing in, and when you do, he doesn’t wait to shove his cock in again. This time, he helps you out: goes back and forth, fucking your wet tongue, and then moving his length until the tip prods your inner cheek. He angles it like a fishing hook, bringing it out of your mouth and then back in again.

And you’re careful to suck diligently. You taste yourself, fighting for breaths. Look up at him, take him like your last meal on Earth; touch his balls as he relishes in your gaze. When your hand encases his dick, that’s when he stops moving, glancing up to the ceiling as if praying.

You slow down; wait as he catches his breath, and then ask, “What do you want me to do?”

You’re not always this forlorn. Sometimes you take matters into your own hands, no questions or permission necessary. You often knock him back onto the mattress, straddling him, riding him into the sunset.

But you want to submit today; that’s the mood you perceived. That’s what his eyes reveal and what your body itches for. Something he wants, too: to destroy you, to fuck you senseless.

And he notices the shift. “My god, would you look at that,” he drags, hardly believing that you’re looking at him like this. “Bed. Lean over it.”

You listen; of course you do. Your knees press into the carpet, upper body flat on the bed. Ass out, arms on the mattress. 

He touches you gently; first your back, then your hair, and then your arms. Finds the right position, and then rams himself into you. You barely expect it — the intrusion is sudden, happens in one fell swoop.

His legs cage in yours, and he soon pushes yours together, dying for further friction and for you to feel it more intensely. Your eyes flutter shut, and your previously lifted head falls, your cheek against the sheets.

You move with them as he thrusts into you, and you hold onto the fabric to remain in place. Perhaps he sees your efforts, because he’s soon determined to help — or to rile you up further, you can’t say. He catches your arm, just one, pinning it to your back.

A heavy hand falls onto the soft flesh of your ass once. And then, he raises your upper body until it’s glued to his chest. An arm wraps around your tits, two fingers pinching your nipple as he drills into you from behind.

As you yelp and heave breaths, you hear him say, “You wanna know, huh?”

“I…”

You’re not sure what he’s talking about, but you allow him to air his rage. He leans in, kisses your neck, wants to know, “What’s that like? You okay, baby?”

“I’m okay… I’m so okay—”

“And so pretty like this. You’re always… so pretty. I’m so fucking lucky.”

“I want to see you.”

“How did I…”

“Kook—”

“I know. I know you want to,” he says, but he takes another minute to fuck you hard, fast, revved up, and you don’t complain. Not even when two of his fingers slap your cunt, multiple times, rapidly until he repeats, “I know. Would you turn around for me? Sit here?”

How couldn’t you if he asks so nicely, right?

Your legs are shaky and trembling as you take a seat on the edge of the bed, much as he commanded. It’s high enough for him to fuck you standing here; but he doesn’t go in right away as you thought. Instead, he kneels in front of you, forehead to forehead, sentimental all of a sudden.

Did you wanting to actually see him change something? Did it remind him once again that you’re not just what you used to be? A way of passing time, a company to quench each other’s thirst?

Then again, you know Jungkook. He never forgets. Never forgets what you are to him.

Repeats each time just as he is now, “How did I end up with you?” Every time. Tells you every time that he cannot fathom his luck, that you’re more than he’ll ever deserve. He adds, “You want me to prove it to you?”

Oh…

That’s what he—

This time, the kiss is short-lived, albeit urgent. His hand cradles your face when he moves up and slides back home. He fucks you softer first, not as beastly as before. But you guess the distance is as irksome to him as to you, because he soon bends down.

Puts his hands on your ass and shifts your body on the mattress until you’re on your back, laying in front of him. Just the same position as before on the ground, but cosier; it’s easier to hover above you now, scanning your face like you’re the only star in the vast, expanding universe.

The only source of light in this darkened room.

“Hey,” he calls, even though you’re already looking at him.

He grazes your temple, tender as a flower petal. His eyes are a melting, dark brown, almost black; you think you see yourself in the reflection, even though it’s impossible in a setting like this — maybe that’s what he means when he says you reside in him.

Your existence in his chest, your eyes in his.

“I love you,” he then proclaims, “and I’ll show you all the fucking time if you need me to.”

“I… I want you to…”

“Good. Good, baby. You know I’ll do anything, right? Not just this and not just now. I’ll do anything for you.”

You half-smile as he says it, as much as possible between your moans; you don’t know what else to do, because nothing else suffices. Not an I would, too and not an I know.

So you say nothing; only raise your eyebrows and widen your eyes, showcasing every shred of affection you harbour. You keep looking at him until the thrusts force your eyes shut again. And this time, you don’t need long to fall into a series of gasps and outright craze.

You understand you’re close when he pleads, “Can you touch yourself? Please?”

And it helps — considering that you’re already riled up like not once in the past days, the next minutes pass fast, and the end is immediate. The familiar stars soon block your vision, your body quivering; you barely realise what happens and when it happens.

Nothing, but bliss bliss bliss…

Until you very clearly feel the liquid underneath your ass, the sheets soaked, all of it wet. You hear Jungkook laugh, absolutely satisfied. Your eyes rip open and you ask, “What happened?”

But the question is redundant — because as your mind clears, you gather what it could be.

You ruined the sheets. You’ll have to come up with a good ass excuse and ask the receptionist for a new blanket for your room. Fuck. A hell of a guest you are.

“You squirted all over my dick,” Jungkook still clarifies.

“I’m sorry…”

“What? No. It looks… it feels so…”

He doesn’t need to finish his sentence; it seems that the thought alone hardens his cock and balls impossibly. Enough for him to follow your example, letting go. He shakes his head, silences, and then moves in to kiss you hard; to fuck you harder.

He shoves you into the mattress repeatedly, navigating in and out of you so easily that you think he might slip out. But he doesn’t; instead, he spills. Spills hotly, abundantly. You know the bed is soiled forever.

Somehow, you’re even sorry for anyone who might book this room next; but somehow, as guilty as you might feel about it, you feel better for yourself. Then again — it’s fine, right? You’re probably not the first to make a mess of a room like this.

Making out with you one last time, Jungkook remains like thi, not wanting to move as his dick still pulsates and twitches, softening just slowly. Doesn’t want the liquid to leak if he moves out. Maybe thinking the same about the room as you.

His next question, however, is an entirely different one, “Do you believe me now?”

You titter. Even now, even after witnessing each of your reactions, your boyfriend won’t let the thought go. Set on what he feels for you, he’ll probably prove it to you an entire lifetime long.

You promise, “I always will. From anyone in this world, I’ll believe it the most from you.”

“My baby,” he coos. Waits. Then sighs before he says, “Okay, enough of that distraction. We have breakfast to catch. I bet you, five more minutes and they’ll knock.”

“Oh… uh-oh. Quick shower and then hurry?”

“…Great idea.”

Only, the shower isn’t as quick as you anticipated — the two of you are silly, reforming your shampoo hair, giggling until the knocks occur and you bolt to the breakfast hall. The others are already eating; by the looks of it, they’ve just started, though.

Yoongi is the first to speak after you’ve exchanged your polite Good mornings. In fact, he scolds rather gently, “You guys are late. We need to be at the beach by noon, don’t forget.”

“Yeah, we just…” You shrug. “We were organising our suitcases.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook nonchalantly confirms. “Forgot the time.”

Your excuses are so casual, so careful, your eyes busy as they watch your hands smear butter and jam on your toast. Only, you’re not as casual. Your friends fall silent. Their stares alternate between Jungkook and you as the two of you pass a knife or comment on the food.

No word until you hear Jimin gasp and look up at him. His expression seems amused, and you know he’s about to say something bold before he actually does—

“Oh, you fucked… You had the time to?!”

THE CHAPTER ISN'T OVER YET!! PLS READ 👇🏼

1k block limit, beloved. you can read the remaining 10k of the chapter in this reblog!! the reblog begins with a new scene <3

[justaz]

lol arthur realizes with the other knights after watching merlin flirt and being hit with a wave of deja vu: holy shit you asked me out

merlin and the rest of the knights around a campfire after leaving a village bc lancelot and leon somehow started a brawl in the tavern: ???

arthur points at merlin: after valiant! you asked me to buy you a drink! you were asking me out!

merlin is busy cooking dinner and confused out of his fucking mind: what???…..valiant….oh the knight with the snakes.

gwaine who was slightly tipsy now stone cold sober and sitting up straight against a tree: wait. explain. what do you mean merlin asked you out??

arthur snaps his fingers as he recalls the memory: i apologized for sacking you and you said that if i bought you a drink we’d be even.

merlin now remembering how he had stumbled into camelot, picked a fight with a pigheaded bully which quickly turned homoerotic and flirtatious, and continued their teasing-flirting for days before merlin shot his shot and asked the prince out only to be rejected: oh yeah, i forgot i did that…..wait, you mean you didnt realize what i was asking?

arthur: no?? we argued everyday, how was i supposed to realize you were asking me out??

merlin now abandoning the dinner and staring across the camp at arthur while the rest of the knights watch their back and forth like a game of tennis: to you we were arguing, to me that was very much flirting. i thought you were flirting back so i decided to ask you. then you rejected me

arthur, mentally beating his past self up for fucking up their chance: i didn’t reject you!!! i just didn’t realize what you were asking me. how was i meant to? we fought every chance we got

leon, nudging elyan, glee and excitement riling through him: its happening!!! its finally happening!!! seven long, grueling years is finally paying off!!!

merlin, realizing the misunderstanding and acknowledging the fact that he wasn’t rejected, his flirtations just weren’t noticed - realizing he still has a chance: oh…oh i see. arthur, my dear, our fights were extremely flirtatious. need i remind you of what you said? “do you know how to walk on your knees? would you like me to teach you?” or “i could take you apart with one blow”

arthur, mental capabilities at an all time low: m…my dear….?????????

merlin grinning devilishly as he realizes that his flirtatious persona he had hidden away after falling head over heels for arthur can make a come back: that is what i called you. should i call you something else? say…mine?

percival gags in elyan’s ear: cheesy

elyan hides a laugh: at least they’re finally getting somewhere. better than the hopeless pining

arthur, flushed from head to toe: ah uh no um im uh

merlin thoroughly enjoying himself: oh come now, your majesty. use your words.

[noharaaa]

𝐌𝐚𝐝 𝐓𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧 & 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐥𝐮𝐠 (𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐬 𝐱 !𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐠 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐫!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

Author’s Note: Disclaimer! This plot is not to encourage drug usage! Don’t do drugs people!

• Reader has no specific gender.

• Parody fic! This is all for jokes.

Enjoy Reading!

╰᭡⿴༘͜─𖧷̷۪۪᪇ ༘᪇𖧷̷۪۪⃟ꦽ⃟:: ᰰ۪۪꧇⿴༘⃕▦᰷᰷ᰰ

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲:

Back in your more questionable days, Choi Su Bong was a frequent (and unforgettable) customer. He’d show up at the oddest hours, paying in cryptic compliments and half-finished rhymes while buying from your stash. You were just trying to make a living, but he treated every transaction like a chapter in some epic cosmic romance. He was the aspiring rapper who thought the universe revolved around him, and you were the unlucky drug dealer stuck listening to his "intergalactic" bars. You thought those days were behind you….until now, when fate (or bad karma) brought him crashing back into your life in the most ridiculous way possible.

part 2 ‖ 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

You thought you would never see him again. Not here in this neon nightmare of death games and psychopathic guards. But there he was: Thanos, in all his glory, with that fucking green jump suit that somehow made him look dumber than whatever way he already looked.

“Y/N,” he said, “Fancy seeing you here.”

You groaned. Loudly. “Of course, it’s you. The universe wouldn’t be cruel enough to allow me to escape this.”

“Cruel? Or destined?”

Yep. That’s right. Back when you were still deep in the game... no, not this death game, the other one, with the gangs and dealers and all of the cursed undergound deals you used to sell to him inthhe past. He wasn’t really ‘Thanos’ at that point. No, he was just Choi Su Bong, a wannabe rapper with a galaxy-sized ego.

And yeah, sure, he paid well (sometimes in bundles he claimed were from a “distant realm,” but who cares), but at the price of listening to him rap the ugliest bars you ever heard. You thought you were forever done with that life. But now?

Now, he’s here. In your face. In this game. While somehow managing to “flirt” in the most awkward, over-the-top ways imaginable.

“What on earth are you doing here?” you said, narrowing your eyes. “Your rap career flopped, or what?”

His exaggerated chuckle made a few of the other players look nervously in your direction, “The rap game couldn't handle me,” he said, “But I knew destiny would unite us again.”

“Destiny? Or that you can’t stay out of trouble?”

He ignored that. “Remember our late-night deals? The way we’d share whispers in the dark with secrets exchanged like precious jewels?”

Seriously?

You stared at him. “Thanos, I sold you weed.”

“Cosmic weed,” he corrected you with his finger held up, “And inspiration.”

“Uh, no? I sold you product … so you could get high and spit more of those garbage raps of yours.”

“I know you meant to say terribly brilliant raps,” he corrected one more time. “And now, here we are. Two fighters in this brutal game, bonded again.”

“I’m trying to survive. not write a duet with you,”

He grinned mischievously. “But survival is an art. And the two of  us? We’ll create a masterpiece together.

Before you could unload with all the insults bubbling in your  throat, Nam-gyu (Player 124) popped out of thin air and attached himself to Thanos like a lost puppy. “Hey, Boss! Who’s your friend?”

“Y/N,  meet Nam-su.”

“Nam-gyu.” Player 124 corrected.

Thanos corrected  himself, “Meet Nam-gyu. My… sidekick.”

Nam-gyu grinned. “Boss says I’ve got potential. What about you? Are you friends with him or something?”

You let out a heavy sigh. “Sure.”

The purple-haired boy added, his voice dripping with innuendo, “More than friends.  Kindred spirits. Partners in destiny.”

Nam-gyu’s eyes widened. “Whoa. That’s deep.”

“It’s delusional” you muttered.

Nam-gyu looked between the two of you. “So… is this like, a thing? You guys got history?”

Thanos smiled, the kind of smile that made you want to punch it off his face. “A cosmic connection, forged in the fires of ambition and—”

“If you say ‘destiny’ one more time, I swear I’ll throw you into the next game.”

Nam-gyu whistled quietly, leaning closer to Thanos. “Feisty much?”

“They’ve always had a fiery temper,” Thanos said, not even trying to hide his amusement. “One of the many things I admire about them.”

“Admire all you want,” you said, crossing your arms. “But if you think I’m going to partner up with you again, you’ve got another thing coming.”

He shrugged, utterly unfazed. “We’ll see, Y/N. We’ll see.”

You huffed, turning on your heel and walking away, hoping to find literally anyone else to align with in this twisted game.

And you knew, deep down, that fate (or your seriously bad luck) wasn’t done with you yet.

part 2 ‖ 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

╰᭡⿴༘͜─𖧷̷۪۪᪇ ༘᪇𖧷̷۪۪⃟ꦽ⃟:: ᰰ۪۪꧇⿴༘⃕▦᰷᰷ᰰ

Author’s Note: (Leave a like! Or reblog! I respond to anyone ❤️)

[seriesxwriting]

Christmas setup

w Damon Salvatore

Warnings- kissing, alcohol.

Series- The vampire diaries

Summary- all your friends see that you and Damon have been flirting nonstop. If you two won’t make a move, it’s up to them to come up with a plan.

- sorry I know every year I’m late with my Christmas story! This years no different😭.

Every Christmas, me and my friends rent out a big house some place peaceful. So we can relax, drink until our hearts content and be away from all the drama of mystic falls. This had been a tradition for years now, this Christmas would be our sixth one. Me, Elena, Stefan, Bonnie, Enzo, Caroline and jeremy. Oh and Damon. They say you leave the best till last. Damon Salvatore. A man I’d been friends with for a long while, and a man I now felt myself falling for.

“Y/n stop day dreaming” Caroline snapped nudging me. “Are you playing the game?” Bonnie asked me tilting her head. Everyone was sat on the floor with whatever board game they chosen. Everyone apart from Damon who was off collecting wood or something. “Um- actually I’m okay, I still need to wrap a few things before tomorrow so I’m going to do that” I nodded jumping up with my hot chocolate and leaving the room.

We’d been here for three days and the games were starting to get a little tedious. “Perfect I’m glad she’s gone” Caroline whispered grabbing her bag. “What? That’s a little harsh did something happen?” Jeremy jerked his head back in confusion. “No- no nothing like that- it’s just me Bonnie and Elena have come up with a plan and we need everyone in on it” she smiled smashing a piece of paper onto the floor.

“Plan gyadt?” Enzo read out raising an eyebrow “yeah it stands for get y/n and Damon together” Elena read out looking around the room at the faces. “Oh so everyone’s caught onto the flirting that’s been going on for months?” Stefan giggled looking at the plan again. Everyone nodded around the game making people laugh. “Great, so this is the plan” Caroline clicked her knuckled. “We get them in the mood” Elena winked.

Step one:

Knock knock

“Who is it?” I called out, “stefan” he called in. I’d already wrapped his presents so I allowed him inside. “Hey how’s it going?” He smiled coming and sitting down with his coffee on the bed I was staying in. “Not bad, only got Enzos and Damon’s to wrap now” I smiled up at him. “Oh really? What did you get Damon” Stefan peered into the bag suspiciously. “Well he’s always going on about this bourbon called brothers bond but he couldn’t find it anywhere- I’ve found it” I smiled taking the old bottle out of the bag.

“Wow y/n- this is a gorgeous present- he’s going to love it” Stefan smiled looking at the bottle. “Then some new glasses to go with it” I shrugged getting up to fetch them and show Stefan. He nodded at them taking them in with detail. “He’s going to be ecstatic”. “Well I’m glad you approve” “of course I do!” Stefan frantically waved his arm out spilling all his drink over my jumper. My eyes widened realising. “Oh- oh my gosh I’m so sorry y/n! Quick go into the bathroom to wash it off” Stefan put the cup on the side and rushed be out of the door.

Outside- 

“Damon! Are you out here?” Elena yelled pulling her coat around herself shivering. A woosh of wind appeared in front of her and Damon smiled. “You look freezing” he laughed with a bunch of wood in his hands. “Mm I don’t know how you’re out here with just a shirt on- I mean I do but…” she trailed off making him laugh again. “Well, why you out in the cold?” He questioned walking back to the house with the wood in his hands. “Well I came to check on you- and bring you this” Elena held out a mug of tea.

“Mm never knew you had a nice bone” he dropped the wood and put his hand out for the drink. Elena stepped towards him and tripped spilling the tea all down his shirt and trousers. “Elena! Are you okay?” He burst out trying to help her up. “I’m so sorry Damon! I- I don’t know what came over me” she shook her head trying to stand up. “You should try and get it off before it stains” she took him by the wrist and led him towards the house.

“Really it’s fine elena stop apologising” Damon told her as he entered the bathroom. I turned around seeing him close the door before noticing i was in here. His eyes trailed down my top and mine his. We both laughed at each other. “I feel like I still win in this situation” Damon said coming over to the sink and me. “Why’s that? We’re in the same boat are we not?”. “Mmm yes we are but I don’t stink of coffee” he laughed trying to get the tea off his grey top.

“Actually you have a point there” I nodded before putting my middle finger up to him Damon’s jaw dropped as if he was offended. I laughed flicking the water at him before running off. “Hey!” Damon gasped running after me giggling. He caught me and with vamp speed held me against the wall. I looked up at his face, my smile was gone and I was just panting staring up at him. Into his blue eyes.

“You got me” I whispered under my breath. “Now what are you doing to do?”. I watched his eyes flick down to my lips for a second. “Forgive and forget” he winked drawing away. My heart sank, I was beginning to think he just wasn’t interested because every time we got close he’d pull away. “Oh- looks like the tea didn’t come out” Elena appeared from behind the corner looking at Damon. She side looked my top too. “Maybe you should just both change- how clumsy” she tutted turning on her heels.

She went to find Stefan in the kitchen. “Did you move the t-shirt to the top of the suitcase?” She whispered. “Mmh, and you got Damon’s grey joggers on top?”. Elena nodded and they both grinned at each other childishly. “I hope they work out Stefan” she put a hand on his chest sighing. “It’s a good plan babe” he kissed the top of her head. “Don’t start please, I’ve seen it all before don’t want to see it again” Damon smirked walking into the kitchen.

I came out my room hearing the chatter and went to follow, I couldn’t be asked to root around for a new outfit so I just picked the top on top of everything. It was a tight blue top that was quite boobie. I’d warn it only once. Damon turned around as I walked in behind him. My eyes rolled down him in his great joggers and I had to try very hard to not allow my chin to fall down. Damon stared at me not saying a word. “Y/n you look nice” Elena smiled at me before evil eyeing Damon.

“That’s your favourite colour isn’t it Damon- favourite shade and everything” Stefan piped up almost making me go red. “Yes it is” Damon nodded still staring. “Brings out your eyes in that” he smiled leaning against one of the chairs. “Thanks hun” I winked taking an apple and exiting the room. “Um- I’m going to go and get that wood I dropped” Damon nodded before heading out.

“So once they are changed? What does that mean?” Enzo wondered raising an eyebrow. “They will want to be all over each other now they’re attracted to each other” Caroline sighed with a smile. “So what’s step two?” Jeremy questioned. Everyone nodded being just as curious as him. “Step two is getting them to admit their feelings so they are fresh in their minds” Elena smiled pointing to the paper.

Step two-

Outside-

“Hey Damon want help carrying that?” Bonnie asked raising an eyebrow coming outside. “Nah don’t worry” he threw it all onto the floor outside the door. “Can I ask you something?” She questioned sitting on the porch swing. “Yeah..” he frowned suspiciously. “It’s about y/n” “y/n? Is she okay?” He went to get up but Bonnie put her hand out. “She’s fine- it’s more about the reaction you had” she smiled turning her head to the side.

“Is something going on?” “No” Damon shook his head seriously. “She’s my best friend Damon- and so are you, I can see when the dynamic changed- and it has”. Damon shut one eye “has she said something?” “Do you want her to say something?” Bonnie giggled nudging Damon. “She’s- gorgeous- but nothing could ever happen” Damon shook his head laying back on the swing. “Why? You’re perfect for each other”.

Damon shook his head again “you’re wrong Bonnie, I like her I do but with everything going on- with all the danger we face everyday- I can’t afford to be in love” he smiled sadly. Bonnie’s eyes widened before her mouth hung open. “Do you really believe that?”, Damon nodded with a slight smile. She could tell it was hurting him. “You deserve to have love Damon- you do- I can’t believe that’s why you won’t make a move” she sat back staring into space.

“If I lost her Bonnie” Damon shook his head closing his eyes. “There is always that risk Damon- in every relationship, in every friendship”. He hummed nodding and shrugging slightly. “Yeah I guess- this is pointless though, I don’t even know if she likes me back” “Damon…” Bonnie started but he stood up “I’m going to take this wood inside to the fire” he hinted that the conversation was over.

In the hallway-

“Oh- y/n I was looking for you” Jeremy smiled catching my arm. “Oh you were?” I asked not thinking anything of it. “Yeah- it’s kinda- random” Jeremy giggled turning around to face me. “I only ask because- when I’ve liked any girl you’d always help me get a game plan together and set us up together” “Awh jer” I smiled sitting on one leg looking up at him curiously. “Is there another girl?” “No” he laughed shaking his head. “I would have told you if there was- no this is about you” he nodded lowering his voice.

“Me? As in-.” “No- no I don’t like you- not like that” he shook his head. I burst out laughing at the thought and Jeremy followed. “Good” I nodded crossing my arms. “It’s about you and Damon” he whispered smirking. “O-oh” “you know what I’m talking about then? The flirting?” Jeremy wiggled his eyebrows. “You mean the one sided flirting” I sighed rubbing my arm. “What?” He shook his head not agreeing with me. “You’re right jer I thought something was going on- but every time I think something’s finally going to happen it never does”.

“I think that means you need to make the first move y/n, because from what I’ve seen it’s not one sided” he rubbed my shoulder to remove my pout. “He’s probably just got some reservations but he’s definitely got feelings for you” he shrugged looking confident. “Hm- I don’t know jer, if he doesn’t want to make a move then maybe for the best nothing should happen” I nodded leaving the conversation sadly.

Jeremy stood there thinking for a second before running to find Bonnie. “She likes him” “he liked her!” Bonnie hissed back at him, their grins widened. “But she thinks he doesn’t like her” “well Damon’s scared of falling in love- thinks it’s too risky” Bonnie chewed her lip. “It’s time for step three, the final step” Bonnie nodded seriously.

“And when they have explained there feeling it will play over in their mind again and again” Caroline explained. “That’s when step three comes in” Bonnie chuckled rubbing her hands together. “Step three? The last step?” Enzo asked being intrigued. “Yes, by this time it will be pretty late, everyone is going to go to sleep early” “on Christmas Eve?” Stefan scoffed shaking his head. Elena hit him gently on his chest. “We’re not actually going to be asleep but give the impression we are”.

“So that they think they are alone?” Jeremy checked after his moment of realisation. “Precisely” Caroline snapped her fingers looking proud of herself. “It will turn Christmas and they will be all sentimental after just pouring out their feelings- this will work”.

Step three-

“Wow that fire looks amazing Damon” I smiled coming into the living room. Elena and Stefan were laying down together giggling about something. And Caroline was watching whatever was on tv. “Thanks- what are they?” He nodded to the rest of the presents in my hands. “The rest of the present I hadn’t wrapped, this one’s yours” I winked putting it under the tree. “You always give good gifts y/n I have high expectations” he patted the side of the sofa now my hands were empty.

“Not too high I hope” I sighed softly as I sat down. “Stefan I’m getting tired- shall we go to bed?” Elena said quite loudly as if she wanted everyone to hear her. “Of course my darling” he kissed her hand and the both got up hand in hand. “I might follow actually- goodnight” Caroline smiled at me and Damon who were sat left confused. “It’s eleven o clock on Christmas Eve?” He frowned shaking his head.

“Yeah that was beyond weird” I pulled a disturbed face. “You’re not tired are you?” He turned to me with a smile. “Mmh Mmh no way” I shook my head. “Let’s get some drinks then” Damon nodded to the kitchen. “bourbon?” He raised an eyebrow. “Sure Damon” I laughed following him in. “If only we had some brothers bond bourbon then we’d really be having a party” Damon sighed. “What’s your obsession with that?” “Its old- it’s the first bourbon I ever tried- I was hooked but, I’ve never been able to find it again- it must have been very smally distributed” he explained to me.

“I’m sure one day you’ll be able to try it again Damon” I promoted leaning over the counter as he poured out our drinks. “Hopefully” he shrugged smiling at me. He didn’t look away though. Once he was caught on he kept staring. “Damon- you’re going to spill it” I nodded to the drink, he’d poured way too much in. “Oh” he shook his head coming back to reality and pulling the bottle away. “It’s alright nothing I can’t handle” he wiggled his eyebrows.

“Oh I know” I turned my head to the side as he passed me my drink. “You know- I’m glad your here y/n- if I had to choose anyone I wanted to stay awake with it would have been you” he told me coming over to my side. “Well, I have the same opinion Damon” I stood up straight and he edged forward tilting his head down. “I had some good advice today, I didn’t think it was but after I’d had a thought about it…” “oh yeah? What was that advice?” I questioned swallowing nervously.

“There’s always risk in any relationship, even a friendship- us being friends that’s risky” he started, his eye contact never stopped. My stomach was twisting in every way possible. “So us being more than friends can’t be anymore risky that it already is” he breathed. I didn’t know what to say, but I knew what I wanted to do. Damon must have had the same idea because he leant towards my lips. Out of nowhere the clocked dinged indicating it was officially Christmas.

Mine and Damon’s heads swung towards the clock jumping out of our skins as we were so focused on the moment. I turned back smiling at him. “Merry Christmas handsome” I whispered putting my hand on his neck and guiding him towards my face. Damon smiled before meeting my lips and FINALLY. Finally I was kissing the man I’d dreamed of kissing for months. It was better than I’d imagined, he’d obviously had years of experience but he was a great kisser.

He pulled me closer to him by my hips kissing me passionately back, as if he didn’t want the moment to end. As if he’d wanted to do it for months. When we finally pulled away he kept me close and shined a bright grin looking into my eyes. “Merry Christmas gorgeous”. I giggled childishly into his chest and Damon pulled me into a bear hug. We heard whispering coming from the corridor before a bombarding entrance of the whole group whooping and clapping.

“Good plan girls” Stefan chuckled coming in with Elena on his hip. “Plan?” I frowned still in Damon’s arms. “Mmh, the whole of today was a set up to get you two to admit you liked each other and make a move” Caroline giggled behind her hair. My mouth dropped and I looked up to Damon. “I- can’t even be mad” he rolled his eyes laughing. “God” I put my face in my hand. “I suppose I should be thanking you” I sighed looking back up. “You’re welcome! We’re all so happy for you” Bonnie winked at us curled up in each others arms.

“Now, shall we get a few bottles open it’s Christmas!” Elena threw her arms out but Damon just laughed shaking his head. “No no no, You all wanted to go to bed, I think me and y/n want to do the same now” he smirked, my heart jumped out of my chest but I wasn’t complaining. I looked up at him with wide excitement in my eyes. “Ew!” Stefan laughed covering his ears. “Come on princess grab your stuff you know what rooms mine” Damon winked as he began walking out the room backwards.

I was in for one hell of a Christmas.

Damon mastlist-

Tvd masterlist-

All series masterlist-

Masterlist of masterlists-

[nightxcreature]

A Little Less Talk

Part three of Hot-Blooded! I’m sorry it took so long to get it out! I hope it lives up to your expectations.

Minors DNI/18+ ONLY

Don’t copy my work.

Summary: reader and Dean finally have their moment.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: angst, smut, PinV babyyyyyy, choking, public sex, oral (female receiving), cursing, I think that’s all but let me know if I forgot any. No use of Y/N.

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It had been three days since the phone call that rocked my world, and Dean and I had barely spoken a word to one another. When I’d finally come down from the god-tiered high that I’d been on, I had every intention of finally admitting to the feelings that had been bubbling inside of me from the moment I’d locked eyes with the green-eyed hunter years ago; I’d left my room intent on throwing him into bed and confessing my love a million times over….and then I chickened out. He’d side-stepped me in the kitchen when I’d come in for breakfast, I’d avoided his gaze while he was explaining the next case we’d be on, we’d gotten completely different motel rooms instead of the three of us sharing like normal. Embarrassment flooded my nervous system whenever I even stepped into a room with him. Which puts me here, sat next to Sam in a run down dive bar somewhere in Missouri watching Dean flirt shamelessly with the busy blonde bartender.

The paint on my nails chips as I peel the tape on my beer bottle, scowling down at the label. A chuckle comes from beside me and I turn slowly toward Sam, a glare of mass proportions on my face, “What?” I bite through clenched teeth.

My rage does nothing to deter him as he laughs again and shrugs, “Nothing, just…” he glances over toward Dean and then back to me, “you seem…grumpy.” He mumbles, a slight smirk playing on his lips.

“The seats sticky.” I grumble out the excuse quickly and turn back to the label, “And the music’s too loud.”

He nods and I can tell from the look on his face that he’s holding back a laugh, “The seats are sticky. But, I would think you’d both would be in a better mood.”

I peek over at him, my eyebrows raising in question, “What does that mean?”

He grins and nods toward Dean, “You sort of admitted to that little crush you’d been harboring for years.”

I shake my head, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth, “Didn’t admit shit, Samuel. I got drugged. And look at him,” I point over at him, leaning casually against the bar, that Winchester Swagger just rolling off of him, “He isn’t interested. Whatever did or did not happen between us was a one time thing.”

Sam glances over to Dean, a knowing look in his eyes when he finally turns back to me and whispers, “Huh, I thought you had more balls than this.” He shrugs again, chuckling at my wide eyes, “Oh well…” he trails off, leaving the dare hanging between us.

“More balls than-.” A loud giggle cuts me off and I turn to see Dean leaning across the bar, that sly smirk on his face as the poor blonde just eats him up. Rage fills my body and I slam a hand down on the table, “You know what, Sam!” I stand up quickly and grab my empty bottle, “I’ll show you balls.”

The grin on his face widens and he nods, throwing me a thumbs up, “Go get em, Tiger.” His teasing tone spurs me on and I turn toward the bar, making my way as quickly as I can to Dean’s side.

“So, where are you staying tonight?” I hear the bartender mumble as she reaches across the bar to place her hand on his.

“With me.” I snap and set the empty bottle down harshly on the counter. Her hand slinks back, shock crossing her features, but I don’t have time to argue. I grab Dean by the jacket and spin toward the door, stomping out before this sudden adrenaline plummets.

“Hey!” He shouts as we burst through the door and into the cool night air, “What are you doing?!” He shoves my hand off of his jacket and takes a step backward, shooting me a confused look.

I take a deep breath as the adrenaline coursing through me begins to fade. Facing him, I can feel the rush of embarrassment creeping up my body. His green eyes are bright and confusion covers his features. I can almost see the millions of questions running through his mind.

“I just don’t want to ignore each other anymore.” I mumble out, a blush covering my cheeks.

His brows furrow and he leans down, “Huh?” He’s close enough now that I can smell the whiskey on his breath and it’s taking everything in me not to grab his collar and taste his lips.

“I said,” I huff, speaking loudly as i peek up at him, “I don’t want to keep ignoring each other.”

He places a hand gently on my shoulder, a sigh leaving him, “I’m not ignor—“

“Yes. You are.” I cut him off and cross my arms, “And I’ve been ignoring you because I’m too scared to actually say anything, but between Sam practically goading me to do something and you about to bring that woman back home…” I lean against the wall, placing my head in my hands, mumbling, “You’re killing me, Dean.”

He says nothing for a minute, giving me space to breathe before he places a hand on my arm and pulls me up to look at him, “I didn’t think you’d want to talk after the other night.”

I scoff, glancing down at his hand in mine, “I wanted to do a lot more than talk…”

His eye brows raise again, a devilish smirk crossing his face at the same time, “Oh yeah?”

I pull my lip between my teeth and nod, “I thought I made that pretty clear.”

He shakes his head, the smirk still on his lips as he answers, “Thought that could’ve just been the potion talking.” He mumbles out, stepping closer to block me against the wall, “Wasn’t sure you actually meant any of it.”

“I meant every word.” I whisper, placing a hand on his chest. Tension was rising between us at a rapid pace and I could feel my heart beating quickly in my chest as I waited for his response.

He licks his lips quickly, glancing down at my own, before whispering, “Prove it.”

And that was all it took to snap whatever willpower I had left. I grabbed the collar of his jacket, yanking him into me and crashing my lips onto his. He gasps at the sudden movement and I take the opportunity to slip my tongue in his mouth. We fight for dominance before I graze my teeth across his bottom lip. He groans into my mouth, slipping a hand up my frame to grip my throat as he breaks the kiss and places his forehead against mine.

“Dirty girl.” He mumbles, staring down at me , “Still want me to make you forget your name?”

I nod breathlessly as I stare up into his eyes, “Please.”

He glances around quickly before pulling me to the side of the bar. Shoving me chest first against the wall, he presses against my back and I feel the outline of him straining against his jeans, “You’ll have to be quiet, think you can do that?”

I nod again, glancing back toward the parking lot, “What about Baby? We could-.”

“Can’t wait that long.” He gruffly bites out. He drops his hands to my waist, pushing my shorts down as he slowly kisses his way up my throat to my ear, “Is this okay?”

“Yes.” I groan, tipping my head back to capture his lips. He nips my bottom lip and drops to his knees as he slides my shorts down to my ankles. He pushes my shoulders further into the wall as he pulls my hips back toward him, arching my back for me.

“Beautiful.” He mumbles out as he slips a single finger through my folds, “So wet already.”

I jerk at the friction, pushing my hips farther back as I feel his lips against my core. He licks a long stripe up my middle, moaning at the taste, “Tastes so good, Baby. All for me?”

I nod vigorously and glance down at him. He’s latched his lips to my core, his movements slow and precise causing me to bite my lip hard to keep from groaning too loudly. He glances up at me, a glint in his eyes as he slips a finger inside me, curling it just right. He slips his tongue over my clit as his fingers work me up, the band in my belly tightening and tightening as he builds up what feels like the orgasm of a lifetime.

“Come on, Darlin’, cum for me.” He mutters lowly. His green eyes feel like they’re staring into my soul when the band finally snaps and stutter out his name. My eyes roll back at I watch him and I groan loudly, sagging against the wall. He pops up beside me, a grin on his face as he slips his fingers out of me. His lips are glistening in the moonlight and I can’t help it as I lean up to kiss him deeply; the taste of me coating my own tongue.

“That was….wow…” I whisper against his smile, “You really do know what you’re doing.”

He lets out a low chuckle, “You don’t know the half of it.” He kisses me again and the metal click of his belt buckle falling to his side reaches my ears as he slips himself out of his pants. He slides his hands up my shoulders and spins me around to hoist me into his arms, my shorts dropping to the ground as he does. I feel the cool brick from the wall through my shirt as I wrap my arms around his neck, “You ready?” He asks with a quick glance to the parking lot.

“Yeah.”

I feel the head of him slide between my folds, notching at my entrance when he smiles mischievously, “Beg me.” He arrogantly says, his brows raising when I don’t immediately comply. His tone changes and his voice drops what feels like an octave when he repeats himself, “I liked that shit the other night. Beg me.”

“Please?” I whisper, glancing down at the sight below me. His hard member between us, so close to exactly where I want him to be…I peer back up at him as he shakes his head, “Dean, please. Please fuck me. I’ll do anything, please.” My hands wrap around the back of his neck as I plead and I can feel my nails sinking superficially into the skin there.

His smile widens, “I thought you’d never ask.” He sinks me down onto him, sheathing himself tightly inside me. He slaps a hand over my mouth as I moan loudly and shakes his head, “Quieter or I’ll stop.” He places his hands back on my hips, bracing us against the wall as he begins to piston in and out of me quickly, “God, you’re so tight, Darlin’.”

“Just for you.” I manage to whisper, raking my hands through his hair, “All for you.”

He places sweet kisses across my collar bones as he continues his pace, one hand sliding between us to work my clit while the other keeps me pinned against the wall, “Yeah, it is.” He begins to rock into me slower, releasing my clit to wrap his hand around my wrist. He tugs my arm down my belly and kisses my cheek, “Touch yourself for me. I didn’t get to watch before.”

I bite my lip and look between us, watching as he rocks into me slowly. I slip my hand between us, fingers grazing over the bundle of nerves he’d been busy with before, moaning lowly as the pressure begins to build. I flick my wrist faster and watch him as he watches me; his eyes blown with lust and his own lip between his teeth. His hand wraps around my throat again when he pulls me in for a heated kiss, his tongue quickly slipping into my mouth as he moans out, “So fuckin’ hot.”

His hips stutter a bit and my eyes clench closed as we both reach our peaks at the same time. His hand tightens around my throat as he groans out a quick, “Son of a bitch…” when he spills inside me. And I chuckle a little as I slump against him, breathing heavy.

We both stay that way for a moment, his arms wrapped around me as we pant against the wall. Our skin, sticky with sweet, is adamant against parting as he leans up to stare into my eyes. His cheeky smile makes one form on my own face as he places sweet kisses across my cheeks.

“Should’ve done that a long time ago.” He whispers, placing his lips against my temple.

I nod and lean into his kiss, “I agree.”

He bends down and grabs my shorts, helping me keep balance as I slip them on before sending me another mischievous smile, “Wanna go back to the motel and do it again?”

_______________________________________________

A/N: I hope that lived up to your expectations! I think that’s the last part for this one, but I’m open for requests if you’d like for me to write something for you. 🫶🏼 if you’d like to be added or removed from my Taglist please let me know!

Taglist: @lmhf1 @whimsyfinny @enigmalynne @envysarchive @k-slla

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@suckitands33 @oceean @mxtansy @justwhisperingfantasies @mgchaser @xinsonyax

[elizabethwritesmen]

The Devil Wears Lace

chapter 6 : October 28, 2023

pairing: simon “ghost” riley x reader

summary: it’s halloween and your treat is a visit from ghost but it turns into more of a trick when a new bartender gets a little too friendly with him. you do what you’ve got to do to keep his eyes on you and end up with more than you bargained for.

warnings: smut, oral (m and f receiving), degradation and praise, dancing on a bar, public nudity, reader gets harassed again, simon gets angry again, slut shaming and a lot of shit talking about the new bartender goes on in this chapter, i think that’s all but let me know if i missed anything!

series masterlist

October 28, 2023

The bar was having a Halloween party.

I didn’t want to go, I’d been working all day at my new job and was exhausted, but Sabrina insisted.

What was my new job, you might ask? Well, the previous May I’d graduated with a Masters in criminology. I wanted to seek higher education but was still deciding what and where. In the meantime, I was interning at a law office nearby. It paid shockingly well, they were a small practice but extremely successful and valued their employees a lot so they showed it by giving them a lot of money.

I didn’t have time to go pick out a costume, so Sabrina assured me she would get me one, much to my dismay. Due to this, I went there straight after work, bringing my makeup and stuff with me so I could just get ready at the bar like I had many times before.

She met me at the door with a bag and shoved it in my hands, giggling all the while, making me frown. What had she cooked up?

I was mortified when I opened the bag and found combat boots, the smallest black dress I had ever seen, and someone’s fatigue shirt. Whose? I don’t know. I wondered the same thing.

“I am so not wearing this. Somewhere is bound to be open, I’ll go see-“

“NO! You know good and well this is the best way to get these dumbass military boys to buy you drinks.”

“Who says I want these dumbass military boys to buy me drinks?”

“You do, trust me, you need a night of flirting with a bunch of men more than anyone else I know. Now get your sexy ass in the back and get ready!”

I sighed, rolling my eyes so hard I thought they would get stuck that way, and did as she told me, heading to the small room in the back that we usually changed and touched up makeup in. It had bad lighting but we’d placed lamps in front of the mirrors, and it had a small set of lockers for anyone who worked there to put valuables in, but they didn’t actually lock so I didn’t understand the purpose of them.

Once I managed to get everything on, I had to admit I looked good. Turned out the dress was basically just a nearly sheer lace slip, but it blended in perfectly with my black bra and thong, which made it feel just a tad bit more modest than it actually was. The combat boots actually paired well with it and the fatigue shirt. I already had gold jewelry on, and I just kept it, thinking it made the look even a little better. All that was left was to touch up my makeup and curls.

Once I stepped out into the bar area, leaving my clothes behind trusting nothing would happen to them, I was bombarded by Sabrina, Dylan, and the new bartender who’d taken my place. She was cute, honestly, tall and skinny with big dimples on her cheeks. I figured she was doing well, and she seemed nice.

“You look so good!” They told me, fawning over me. I laughed, waving them off, sitting at the bar and waiting for it to get busy. It always did on the night of the Halloween party, without fail.

The music was loud, and all of it was either dark and sexy or Halloween themed. Decorations were hung up, less in depth than I usually did. Sabrina always hated decorating and I guess the new girl did, too.

“Hey,” Sabrina sat next to me, “It feels like it’s been forever!”

“It’s been like, three days,” I deadpanned, brows furrowed and she laughed.

“Yeah, but we used to spend damn near every day together. It’s so lame here without you.”

“But you have that new girl, right? She seems nice, maybe you could be friends.”

She rolled her eyes and I got comfier in my seat, knowing she was about to tell me all about the drama. “She’s awful.”

“I gathered that from the eye roll, now spill!”

“Alright, so when she first got here, she acted like she was just really eager to learn. Then ‘eager to learn’ turned into ‘eager to feel up my husband every chance she got.’ Fucking slut.”

I gasped, leaning in farther, “She felt up Dylan?”

“Yes!” she sounded exasperated, “He was showing her how to make a couple drinks and she just got right up on his side and started rubbing his arms and his back!”

“That bitch,” I furrowed my brows.

“I know! So he told me to take over showing her the ropes, and I have, but I wanna just fuckin’ fire the stupid cunt. She’s an idiot anyway and she can’t do anything right!”

“Well then why hasn’t he fired her yet?”

“Because his dad is wrapped around her finger and doesn’t want him to.”

“That bitch!” I huffed, “Well if she touches him again I’ll beat her ass for you. I don’t work here anymore, I can’t get in trouble.”

“I know you will. Just tell me first so I can film it, we’ll pop some popcorn and have a movie night.”

I raised my drink and she clinked it with her own, taking a sip with me. I eyed the new girl, in awe that she could seem so nice but be such a snake.

Around 9, the place was full, and I was dancing with a few friends that had shown up. We were just jumping around on the floor, a few guys around us dancing with us. It was fun, more fun than I’d had in a while.

I didn’t even notice they’d shown up until one of my friends started talking about the sexy guy in the mask. I furrowed my eyebrows, hope sparking in my chest as I looked around and saw him at the bar, the new girl in front of him, leaned over, giving him a front row seat to her tits. I nearly fumed, excusing myself and briskly making my way over.

I stood behind him for a second, trying to catch a hint of their conversation. It didn’t seem like he was giving her much from what I could tell, and she seemed to be getting more and more desperate for his attention by the second.

“Ghost,” I cleared my throat from behind him.

“I was wondering how long it’d take you to realize I was here.” He spoke without even turning around. The new girl made her way to the other side of the bar, giving him a moment alone.

“Maybe I was waiting for you to come to me.”

“You looked like you were having fun, didn’t want to disturb you.”

“I was,” I sighed, “Are you gonna look at me? Or are you gonna keep staring at her tits?”

He chuckled, turning around fully to face me in his seat. My breath hitched, I didn’t expect him to do that.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he patronized me, “You wanted my attention now you got it.”

I took a few steps closer to him, “Just a little sad. See, you’re supposed to be looking at me.”

“Well, I’m looking at you now,” his voice was low and dark and his hands settled on my hips, pulling me a little closer, “What’re you wanting, huh? A compliment? Want me to tell you how good you look in this little piece of fabric you call a dress?” I nodded frantically, biting my lips and his eyes followed the motion, “You haven’t earned it.”

I gasped, eyes widening and he laughed again, this time fuller. His hands tightened on my hips as he lifted me into the stool beside him, gesturing new girl over and ordering me and Malibu Pineapple. I caught the dirty look she sent me, but I didn’t have a fuck to give. My brain was short circuiting over the way he just.. lifted me into the chair, and the way he remembered what I wanted to drink.

“Thank you,” I offered him a smile, taking a sip.

“Probably not the first free drink you’ve gotten tonight.”

“No, it’s not. But it’s my favorite free drink I’ve gotten tonight.”

“Suck up.”

“I would, if you’d just give me the chance,” I winked and the whites of his eyes showed a little more for a second as he widened them.

“You’re impossible.”

“Then why do you keep coming back for more?”

My hands were on his thighs then, both of us facing each other in our chairs, and I let my hands roam slightly but not to anywhere too scandalous.

“Guess what the fuck that bitch just did!” Sabrina’s voice broke the trance, and I looked at her expectantly, “She said you cockblocked her and started whining about you. Like I’m gonna choose her side over yours, be fuckin’ for real for a second!”

I raised my eyebrows, “Cockblocked, huh? Sounds like new girl wants you bad, Ghost.” He grunted in response, lifting his mask to take a sip of his whiskey. “Don’t moan and groan at me, you were the one undressing her with your eyes. Want me to get her number for you? Maybe you can take her home.”

Sabrina looked at a loss for words, and her eyebrows were raised in concern but she saw her way out of the situation. Smart choice.

“Sweetheart, stop.” His voice was a command. Deep and final. But I just couldn’t leave well enough alone.

“Oh, honey, I’m just getting started,” With that, I was up and across the bar, dancing with my friends again and trying to ignore him. A few guys came up to me, one wrapping his arm around me and trying to grind on me but I pushed him away a little with a laugh.

“You can buy me a drink, but you can’t touch,” I teased, but my face went dark and his hand landed a smack on my ass.

“If you didn’t wanna be touched, why’d you wear this?” he asked me, leaning his head down for a kiss that I dodged, elbowing him hard in his chest.

“My outfit isn’t a free pass to touch me, you stupid fuck.”

“At least I’m not a stupid slut,” he slapped my ass again, but this time I was ready for him. I grabbed his arm and twisted hard, wrenching it around behind him. Once I had him where I wanted him, I kicked the back of his knee and sent him to the floor, me standing over him and holding him hostage there.

“You want a broken arm? Because you’re sure asking for one.” My tone was angry, forceful, more assertive than I could ever remember it being.

“Fuck, get off of me,” he growled, trying to pull away but I twisted harder and he let out a gasp.

“Get the fuck out of the bar, and don’t come back until you can learn to keep your hands to yourself,” I growled at him, letting him go just to kick him in the back and send him all the way to the floor in a heap. He turned over and laid there, staring up at me.

“That’s not your choice to make,” he smirked, still cocky after what had just happened and I raised a brow.

“No, it’s mine, and I agree with her. Get out.” Dylan’s voice was like a lifeline as he grabbed the guy by the shirt and pushed him out of the doors. I breathed a sigh of relief when he was gone. “Good job, killer,” he high fived me and I grinned, “If you didn’t have that fancy new job I’d ask you to be the new security guard.”

I giggled as he walked away, trying to come down from the adrenaline of everything. The bustle around me made it hard, though, so I walked outside, holding myself tight to battle the cold. I heard the door open and shut behind me and imagined it was Sabrina, but I knew I was wrong when he walked towards me, his heavy footsteps giving him away.

“You alright?” he asked me, and I turned around slowly, nodding.

“I’m fine.”

“That was pretty impressive, what you did in there. Maybe you can take care of yourself.”

“I’ve told you that a million times but you had to see it to believe it, huh,” I chuckled but my words were venom, staring down at my feet.

“You gonna tell me why you’re acting like this?” he changed the subject.

I responded with a quick, “No.” He looked frustrated, speechless almost.

“You can just tell me you’re jealous. It’s obvious enough.”

“Jealous? Of what? Sally McSlutface laying her boobs out on the bar like a personal menu for you? Yeah, I’m green with envy, let me tell you,” my tone was biting, sarcasm laced in every word, pure hate dripping from me when I talked about her. Maybe she hadn’t done anything to deserve it. Maybe Ghost wasn’t mine and I had no claim to him. Maybe he could talk to whoever the hell he wanted and look at whatever the hell he wanted.

He breathed out a laugh, staring at the sky hopelessly, begging for the patience he needed to deal with me. “You are green.” His eyes snapped back down to me. “Whose shirt you got on, anyway? One of these soldiers that comes in here and hits on you? What’d you have to do for it?”

“I didn’t do anything for it, asshole, I don’t know whose it is.”

“Right, that makes sense,” his tone was patronizing again and it set me on fire, anger building inside of me.

“You’re gonna get mad about me wearing someone else’s fatigues when you’re in there eyeing up that dumb bitch like she’s fucking candy or something? You fucking asshole.”

“I’m not mad, baby, you’re the only one that’s mad,” but he sure sounded mad, and I didn’t believe a word that came out of his mouth. I didn’t even dwell on the word baby.

“I’m not mad!” I yelled, then tried to calm myself down, “You know what? Go fuck her. See how much I care. I have my own plans for the night.”

I attempted to walk past him, but he grabbed my arm, stopping me in my tracks. “Don’t do anything stupid just because you’re throwing a fit like a fucking brat.”

“Wanna see how much of a brat I am?” I couldn’t tell whether my words were foreboding or inviting. “Come back inside.”

I shook away from him and stormed into the bar, beelining it to Sabrina and Dylan.

“Remember two years ago when I danced on the bar for Halloween?”

“Yeah,” they both nodded.

“I’m doing it again. Put on the song.”

Their eyebrows were raised but they nodded, and Dylan went to the stereo system to get it going.

“You good?”

“I’m fine. I’m taking your advice and moving on. Or showing him what he’s missing. Whatever, I don’t give a fuck. Plus it’ll make that new girl mad.”

“Well, when you put it that way,” she grinned, “Get your fine ass up there and show them who’s boss!”

I grinned back as the familiar tune began. I made my way onto the bar and some of the guys there noticed and began to gather around. Right at that moment, Ghost walked back inside and the second his eyes found me, he looked homicidal.

I began swaying my hips to the beat, winking at him and increasing my movement with every lyric.

Heaven help me, the devil wears lace and she can’t be tamed.

If I were wealthy, spend every last dime just to hear her say my name.

I flipped my hair around, slipping the big shirt off and throwing it to Sabrina who was watching from behind the bar with a huge smile on her face. She handed me a bottle, one of the cheapest liquors they had as the chorus hit.

So light me in flames

Just as hot as you need

Let me see the good girl you wanted to be

I turned my back to the group of people gawking and cheering, bending over and reaching between my spread out legs to pour two shots worth of liquid into one of the guy’s mouths, which brought on more cheers.

My eyes caught his as I turned back around and felt myself up, hands sliding from my chest to my thighs, squeezing the fat there as my motions got sharper with every beat.

All of my praise, only from me

I can be the one who can set you free

He made his way over to the bar and I grinned, turning my back again and doing a small spin, hanging on to the rail at the top of the bar for support then shimmying down, surely flashing some people but I wasn’t concerned.

Fall from your grace

Turn up the heat

I feel I’m going down, hands gripping the sheets

I sat sideways on the bar, leaning back on my arms and arching tightly with my head thrown back, then turned over and raised my hips, arms stretched in front of me and ass on display and he snapped. He ripped his jacket off and threw it over me, hauling me off the bar and outside. The people there seemed dumbstruck, and I barely heard the end of the chorus before the door shut.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” he growled, setting me down in front of him.

“Do I have to think about everything I do before I do it?”

He let out a sharp laugh, “You are the most danger prone girl I have ever known. Yes, you have to think about dumbass decisions before you make them.”

“All I did was dance on a bar,” I rolled my eyes, pulling his jacket tighter around me in the cold.

“Yeah, right, that’s all you did. Now everyone in there has seen your ass, you feel good about that?”

I set my jaw, letting it tick as I thought over my answer. “You’re talking to me like I’m some kind of whore. Maybe I just wanted your attention.”

“You have that already. Give me a real reason.”

“Maybe I just wanted the attention you gave her.”

“What attention? You’re so fucking delusional. I didn’t even look at her. I don’t give a fuck about her. I came here for you. My team came here for you, and they’re in there having the time of their lives because they got more of you than they bargained for. There’s only one girl that I want to drive me up the fucking wall, and it’s not her!” he was yelling, seething really, his tone harsh and cutting deep but then I let his words settle in along with the feeling of stupidity.

“Ghost, I-“

“Fuck, don’t call me that, my name is Simon,” his voice was still raised and it’s like he didn’t even realize what he’d said until it was out, and we were both taken harshly aback.

I let my mouth drop open a little, taking one step closer to him.

“Simon,” I tried it out and I liked the way it felt rolling off my tongue. I think he liked it too, judging by the way his face softened and his eyes darkened. “Forgive me,” I implored, getting further into his personal space. Crowding him out, really, until my perfume must’ve been suffocating him, thinly veiled by the jacket he’d thrown over me. He didn’t answer. “Forgive me,” I repeated, urgently this time. “Want me to get on my knees and beg? I will. Not for anyone else, but for you, I’ll do it.” He just kept staring at me as I rambled on, “I was jealous, Simon. So jealous, can’t help it with the way she was looking at you. Had me so angry-“

He cut me off, yanking his mask up to his nose and grabbing my throat, pulling me to him and kissing me. I yelped, shocked by the impact, but it only took me seconds to fall into a rhythm, melting where I stood and whimpering for more.

“Such a little slut, begging for me like this and I haven’t even touched you,” he groaned, pulling away to kiss down my neck. I let out a shaky moan, arching into him as his mouth drifted lower.

“Fuck, Simon, please,” I whined, and he laughed.

“I should’ve told you my name a long time ago,” he mused as he brought his mouth back to mine, claiming it as his own. He backed me slowly into the wall, huge hands circling under my thighs and lifting until my legs were wrapped around him and I was caged in his arms.

I got more desperate, squeezing him closer and breaking the kiss to groan when he pressed into me. He was big. Big was an understatement.

“Don’t think that’s gonna fit,” I breathed out and he laughed, nuzzling into me.

“Not tonight it’s not.”

“What?” I was panicking, the need for him growing in me with every passing second.

“Not gonna take you for the first time after a fight like that, baby,” he kissed me again, “Gonna make you wait for it.”

“I’ve been waiting-“

“Don’t whine,” he shut me up, “Makes me want you too bad. Now come on, let’s go back in.”

I pouted as he set me on my feet, all turned on with nowhere to let it out. I followed him as he dragged me inside, pulling his mask down at the same time.

We garnered some stares as we walked in, hand in hand, people obviously knowing exactly what was going on. There were some surprised looks, I wasn’t exactly known for being seen with a man or even settling for a man at all. People were used to be flitting about, flirting but never enough to care.

“Everything okay?” Soap asked as we approached their table, where Sabrina and Dylan were already standing, chatting away.

“We’re just fine,” Simon nodded, and I stayed quiet, blush on my cheeks still, and my eyes might as well have had hearts in them as I gazed at him.

“You’ve got a little… bruise….” Sabrina muttered, grazing her thumb over a spot on my neck and I gasped, pulling the jacket up higher. Everyone laughed at that, and it looked like even Simon smirked but I couldn’t quite tell under the mask.

He pulled out a chair for me and one for himself right beside me and I sat down. They kept cracking their little jokes and I kept not saying much, too lost in thought. I wanted him and I wanted him bad.

I placed my hand on his thigh, rubbing slightly and making my way further and further up. He slapped it away but I just put it back, continuing my ascent. “If I leave, will you follow me?” I whispered the question in his ear, and he just looked at me, but the way his eyes grazed over me let me know he was on the hook. I smirked, pulling my hand away and fleeing to the back room.

The new girl came in behind me, her face twisted in blatant annoyance.

“You can’t be back here,” she spat.

“Yet somehow, I am,” I giggled, waving her away, “Anything else?”

“I thought you were nice when I first met you earlier, but you’re really just a bitch, huh?” I cocked a brow as she let those words slip.

“Do you want to find out just how much of a bitch I am?” I questioned, and she didn’t back down. “Get out. Now. Go ride a dick in the bathroom or something like you’ve been trying to all night.”

“I think I will, in fact I think I’ll go for that man in the mask,” she smirked and before I could even laugh, he came in.

“Fuck off,” he grunted, “This seat’s taken.”

I snorted and she just gawked.

“She isn’t even supposed to be in here!” she huffed.

“Go tattle on her, then,” he barked, and she jumped, making her way out of the room. Once we were alone, he closed the door, turning the lock behind him. I smirked, walking towards him slowly, slipping the jacket further and further off with every step until it was on the floor.

“Just gonna leave my jacket on the ground like that?” he asked.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make up for it,” I winked, finally reaching him and placing my hands on his chest, balling them in the thin fabric of his shirt.

“Sweetheart,” he groaned, “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

“I don’t care, as long as I win,” I clicked my tongue, sinking slowly down to one knee, and then the other.

He let out a ragged breath as my hands slid down, tugging his belt until it was unbuckled and sliding out of the loops. Then I got his button and zipper undone, pulling down just enough to expose his boxers slightly.

“Aw, my poor Simon, you just wanted me to touch you, huh?” I cooed, pulling the boxers down enough to expose the tip. “I got you this turned on, baby?”

“Don’t forget your place,” he growled, but his actions were sweet as he brushed my hair back from my face lightly.

“I know my place,” I smiled, “On my knees with my mouth wrapped around you.”

He all but growled, hips bucking into my touch. When I raised a brow, he admitted, “Been a while.”

“For me, too,” I offered, hoping it would make him feel better, before pulling his boxers down further and exposing the entirety of him.

“Fuck,” I gasped, “You’re huge.”

“Gonna keep talking about it or put your mouth on it?”

I didn’t need any more encouragement, getting straight to work, starting with a stripe licked up the back and ending by sucking the tip into my mouth, twirling my tongue around it teasingly.

“Fuck, please,” he breathed out, hand pulling my hair tighter as I took more of him. I had to ease my way down to adjust my throat, but once I got as much as I could in, I started moving back and forth. He held me there until my eyes were teary and wet, my throat completely expanded, and I let him use me.

“Wanna see you,” he told me and I nodded as well as I could, humming around him and pulling my dress and bra down to expose myself, the air making my nipples hard as they’d ever been. I’m sure he had something to do with that, too. “So fucking - agh - perfect, so perfect for me, fuck please keep going,” he sounded broken, but not in the same way other men I’d been with did. He sounded needy, like he’d been waiting his whole life for that one moment and he never wanted it to end. I’d never felt that from anyone before, and I wanted more of it so I got greedier with him in my mouth, savoring the weight of him on my tongue.

“Fuck, y’gonna make me cum,” he gasped, squeezing my hair to pull me back a little as his hips stuttered. It was a sweet gesture, to keep from hurting me with his movements, and I moaned around him, which seemed to tumble him right over the edge. He groaned with one last thrust of his hips and pulled out just enough for me to open my mouth wide and stick out my tongue, letting him let go right there inside of it. He watched closely as he did so, enjoying every second, right to when I swallowed it all.

I grinned after he came down, pulling his boxers back up and doing his pants back up for him then standing and wiping my mouth gently.

“See you out there,” I winked as I began to walk past him, but he grabbed me by the arm and pulled me back to him, picking me up and bringing me to the small bench in the corner. He laid me on it, pulling me to the edge and kneeling in front of me, eyes dark on me.

“What’re you doin’?” I asked, breath coming out quicker, heart racing.

“Showing you what your place is, since you’re a little confused,” his voice was rough as he hooked a finger in my panties, pulling them off of me swiftly, “It’s laid out with your legs spread wipe open just for me.”

I gasped, squirming under his gaze as he brought a finger down to swipe through my folds.

“Please,” I whimpered, and he chuckled.

“That’s it, what a good little slut, begging me to touch you. What do you want from me baby? Want my fingers in this little cunt?”

I nodded frantically, eyes wide and pleading, and he obliged, ripping his gloves off and slipping one finger in. I let out a broken moan as he went in and out, thinking it couldn’t possible get better but then it did as he slipped in two, fucking me with his digits, curling them around that spongy spot inside of me.

“Simon, I - fuck - please -!” he went a little faster, and I tried my best not to scream but it was so hard.

Then, all at once, he went away.

“What are you-“

“I’m not goin’ anywhere, calm down,” he shushed me and I relaxed, lying back and watching as he grabbed his jacket. He walked over to me, placing one of the sleeves over my eyes and tying it behind me, making a blindfold of sorts.

“What’s this for?” I asked, and I heard a bit of movement and something being set down before he grabbed my hands and lifted them to his face, laying them down there on bare skin.

I gasped, feeling around, greedy for more then I found it in his hair. I tugged lightly, loving how it felt in my fingers, and he groaned. Before I could even process his bare face, he’d leaned down and kissed me again, his fingers going back to where I needed him most and pushing back in. I rutted against him desperately as his tongue explored my mouth, then moved downwards. To my neck, then my chest, spending a little extra time there teasing me, then down my belly and to where his fingers were.

He circled his tongue around my clit and electricity shot through me as I let out a shriek, my legs falling over his shoulders and pulling him closer as my hand fisted in his hair. He lapped at me like a man starved, working harder for me than anyone ever had, coaxing me farther and farther open until I didn’t feel like I could even inhale. He noticed, pulling away just enough to rasp, “Breathe, baby. I’ve got you, just relax and let me make you cum.”

I moaned again, back arching as I began feeling that peak inside of me getting closer and closer. He could feel it too, so he sped up his movements and added another finger, tipping me over the edge and fucking me through it as I wailed. What felt like forever later, I collapsed in a heap, gasping for breath.

A minute later, he took the jacket off of my face and I pouted when I saw his mask was back on, as well as his gloves. I started to get up but he stopped me with a hand on my chest, laying me back down.

“Hold on,” he ordered and I did, watching him look around for a second before coming back with a little towel he’d found. He carefully cleaned me up, and I watched him in a daze, those dangerous feelings bubbling up in my chest once more. I was a goner for him, and suddenly the thought that he had to leave soon hit me and my eyes were getting hot.

“I’m gonna keep these,” he smirked as he pocketed my underwear, and I nodded, staring at the ceiling. He got quiet, taking note of my attitude change and furrowing his brows. “What’s wrong?” I didn’t answer and panic set in. “Was that not okay? Did you not want that? Fuck - I’m sorry, I-“

“No,” I shook my head, “I wanted it. It was good. Perfect, even. I just… I feel like I can’t tell you what’s wrong.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ll laugh at me.”

“Promise I won’t.”

“You have to leave. I just feel…”

“Used?”

“No,” I placed my hand on his to quiet those thoughts in his head, sitting up carefully, pulling my dress back to somewhat modesty. “Sad.”

“Oh,” he said, seeming surprised. “You know, sweetheart, I’m not the kind of man you wanna care about.”

“It’s a little too late for that.”

“I’ll be back. I promise I will.”

“And if you can’t keep that promise?”

“I can.”

The tears fell then and he sat beside me, pulling me into his arms as I cried. “Shh,” he whispered, “It’s okay. I’ll be back. Just let it out.” His hand was rubbing circles on my back, easing some of the pain. I couldn’t believe how vulnerable I was being, but I felt completely wrecked and he hadn’t even fucked me, and now he had to leave. Of course I was vulnerable,

I stopped crying, pulling slightly away from him and wiping my face as best I could.

“We should go back out there. Try to have a good night.”

“Baby, I’ve already had a good night,” he chuckled and I let out a little giggle too.

“Okay, then let’s try to keep the good night going. Come on. There’s no telling what they’ve said about us by now.”

“Probably nothing that wasn’t true.”

“Yeah…” I mumbled, “We haven’t been too subtle, huh?”

“I think when you showed your ass to everybody in the bar, subtlety went out the window.”

“Probably,” I laughed, standing up and bringing him with me. He slipped the jacket back over my shoulders as we walked out.

“You don’t have underwear on, I’m doing damage control.”

Just as I expected, everyone picked on us, and the night was full of endless innuendos. I just stayed quiet and shy, gazing at Simon, and it almost seemed like he was gazing back. He kept either his arm around me or his hand on my leg for the whole rest of the night, seeming like he didn’t want to let me go.

Unfortunately, the time came that he had to, and we all parted ways and he walked me to my car, still holding me to his side.

“You gonna be ok?” he asked, hand cupping my cheek as I stared at him with those same heart eyes I had for him before.

“I think so,” I grinned and his eyes fell to my lips.

“I meant what I said,” he told me, “I’ll be back for you.”

“I’ll be waiting,” I hummed, pulling him a little closer until I was trapped between him and my car, but there was nowhere else I’d rather be.

He lifted his mask to his nose again and I smiled, knowing what was coming. His mouth fell down to mine, slower than before but just as intense. It was short and sweet, but memorable, and I chased him as he pulled away.

“Go home, sweetheart,” he mumbled, kissing me on the forehead before putting some distance between us. He started to pull his mask down but I stopped him, jumping on him one last time in a panic and kissing him with everything I had. It lasted longer and left us both breathless. When I finally stepped back, he just smiled at me, and I realized it was the first time I’d seen his real smile. It was the prettiest thing I’d ever had the luxury of seeing, and I pouted when he covered it up.

“Please stay safe,” I told him, finally letting his hand go and getting in my car.

[writercole]

Cry To Me

Summary: Scott Miller crashes his coworker's night of wallowing in pity and sorrow after a long day. Things get interesting when one of them admits to a crush. Words: 3393 Warnings: Fluff, discussion of a break up, Scott being soft, flirting, attempted controlling behavior by bad ex. Credits: @ryebecca for listening to me yell about this for two or three months now. A/N: I absolutely love this. 100%. Even if I almost gave myself a heart attack when I hit the wrong button and accidentally erased the 3400 words I wrote. It's fine, though. Ctrl Z is there for a reason.

Working at StormPar was a dream come true. I could use the degree I had obtained to actually help people, to do things that would change the future. Pay was pretty good for what I did, all travel was covered, and I wasn’t one of the ones who had to actually go out into the storm and put down the sensors. I got to stay back and analyze all of the data the actual ballsy guys gathered. Plus, the guys were all pretty hot. Like I said, dream come true. Well, most of the time.

My boyfriend, John, hated my job. He hated that I worked with men, hated that I traveled with them, hated that they offered him to join us since he worked remote. There were times I wondered if he even liked me. But then he’d have days where he’d be so sweet and kind and it made up for all of the snide remarks and comments. In hindsight, I should have known something.

I tried to get opinions of the team but every time I would start talking about John, Scott would show up. I swear his personal mission was to make my life as hard as possible on a daily basis. If he wasn’t complaining about the data (data that he gathered), he was complaining about me trying to have some kind of friendship with my coworkers. His motto was ‘personal lives stay personal’ and, honestly, that told me enough about him to make me want to avoid him as much as possible.

Javi, on the other hand, was the whole reason I stuck it out. Sure, the other guys on the team were cool. But Javi made me feel welcome and heard with every concern, from work to personal, the latter of which we usually discussed over a couple of drinks or dinner, always on the company of course.

“What do you mean you’re not coming?” I asked John as I stood on the porch of the little cabin I owned.

“I mean, I can’t get away from work for the weekend.”

“John, you work remote. You have nothing that you need to get away from. You can bring your laptop with you and work anywhere.”

“You can use your degree somewhere else, too. You don’t have to work with those…storm park assholes,” he spat.

I took a deep breath and steeled myself. This is a conversation we’d had many times and it didn’t seem that he got the message any other time. “Javi is the one who gave me a chance, John. I searched for two years for a job in my field, one that I was told was absolutely booming. Two years before I got a shot at using the stupid piece of paper I worked so hard for. I’m not going to leave them high and dry just to sit for another two years without a job. I have bills, John. I have expenses!”

“I’ll pay for everything and you can be my little housewife.”

“Are you out of your mind? We don’t even live together. I’m not going to quit my job to sit around my house while you’re working at your place. And I know you did not just propose in the middle of an argument to get me to agree to what you want.”

“No, I didn’t propose. We aren’t there yet. You won’t respect my boundaries in the relationship so there’s no fucking way I’ll make you my wife.”

The audacity of this man. It took everything I had not to attack him. “Boundaries in the relationship? And what boundaries are those? Not have friends? Not work? Enlighten me here.”

“Not work with men who only see you as someone they want to try and fuck. Not work with that…that Javi prick who's always flirting with you.”

I laughed at that. Loudly. “John, get the fuck off of my property. I’m not yours to control. We’re done. We’re so fucking done.”

“Fine. I could have anyone I wanted. I don’t need you.” He turned on his heel and stormed away to his BMW. I watched with crossed arms as he shouted something at me, pointing a finger in my direction. Wiggling my fingers with a sarcastic smile was the only response he got.

I watched gravel fly as he spun his way out onto the road. I’d have to remember that next time I did yard work. That prick.

The taillights of his car faded into the distance just before a StormPar SUV pulled into my driveway, Javi and Scott in the front seats. I swiped my bag up from the porch as Javi stepped out, waving as he met me halfway and grabbed my duffel from my hands.

“I take it John is not joining us?”

“What gave you that idea?” I asked sweetly, hoping he hadn’t seen the display of idiocy.

“I may have stopped a little ways back when I saw him standing so far from the porch.”

“Did you hear any of it?”

“No, just a lot of gestures before he Fast and Furioused out of here.”

“Well, all you need to know is John is no longer of any concern to any of us.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” I tried to smile at him, though, judging by the look on his face, it came out more of a grimace than a smile. “Let’s hit the road before Tinman there blows a gasket.”

We both glanced at Scott in the passenger seat, glaring at us while gnawing that stupid piece of gum he always had in his mouth. Javi and I chuckled before turning to the car, him heading to stash my bag and me climbing in the back seat.

The drive was mostly comfortable, the conversation focusing on work topics for the short trek to the next state. I answered when prompted but kept quiet overall. After all, personal lives needed to stay personal.

We pulled into a motel in the middle of nowhere, anticipating a storm forming somewhere in the area tomorrow when the two fronts met. After we got checked in, I settled my things in my room and took a shower, my stomach rumbling loudly as I dressed. I sighed in resignation as I headed out the door. I wanted to just rot in bed and wallow in self-pity for the evening but, since I missed lunch with John’s bullshit, I needed to eat. And maybe have a drink.

A shadow crossed my table around the third glass of wine. Looking up, my shoulders sank when I recognized the grimy MIT baseball cap standing over me. “What do you want, Scott?”

“Are you okay?”

I had to do a double take and make sure I wasn’t seeing things. He sounded genuinely concerned about my wine drunk state but he didn’t earn the nickname Tinman without having the reputation to go along with it. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“Right. Because you’re an expert in how I look?”

“You know, you can talk to me if something’s bothering you,” he said as he leaned on the chair across from me.

“I’d love to believe that, Scott, but,” I replied sweetly, dropping my smile before continuing, “personal lives stay personal, right?”

He hung his head for a second before his baby blues met mine once again, a soft smile on his face. “Well, we are on personal time, so the rule no longer applies."

I scoffed. "So what? Now you want to be besties and braid each other's hair and talk about boys?"

Surprisingly, he didn't roll his eyes or scoff; he just stood there with that soft expression and waited. I stared him down while my heart fluttered in my chest. I wish I hadn't had so much alcohol. It was definitely affecting my rational mind. "Sit."

His eyes brightened beneath the bill of his cap as he pulled out his chair and took a seat. The waiter stopped and took his order and I was grateful that he stuck with a beer, though I was surprised when he chose a cheap domestic over some fancy IPA or import. He stayed quiet until the drink was set in front of him, taking a sip before asking the question on his mind. ”So why are you drinking alone?"

I really need to control my alcohol better. "John," I grumbled.

"I noticed he didn't seem too thrilled with things today."

"That's one way to put it."

"And how would you put it?"

"He's an insecure, petulant child that refuses to accept when someone, especially a woman, has thoughts and ideas that don't align with his own," I blurted out. I resisted adding a jab at Scott because, despite his surly nature, he made an effort to talk to me when he didn't have to.

"I know that much by looking at him," Scott laughed. "What did he do today?"

"Besides insult my intelligence? "

"I assume that isn't something new?”

"No, unfortunately."

"So tell me. What's different today?"

I hesitated, sighing deeply before draining my wine glass. "Today, he offered to have me quit and be a housewife instead of going on the road with the team. With you and Javi. Specifically Javi."

"Why Javi?"

"Because it's always Javi that offers John to join chases. It's Javi that picks up my bags and jokes with me."

"I do that stuff."

"You do?" I snorted as I toyed with my glass. "When?"

"Okay," he chuckled, "maybe I keep my distance."

"Uh huh," I replied, a smirk lifting the corner of my mouth in delight for the first time since John showed up.

"I would, though. Do those things."

"But then you would be accused of trying to fuck me, too."

It took a moment for Scott to process what 1 meant. I was treated to a furrowed brow and deep scowl, one that was entirely too attractive for a man I regarded as an asshole. Damn wine.

"I hate that guy."

His frustration on my behalf spread a warmth through my chest. Setting my glass aside, I vowed to switch to water. Wine brought to the surface feelings that would get me laughed out of the company.

"You hate everyone," I pointed out as I suppressed a chuckle.

"I don't hate you." Scott looked up at me from beneath the bill of his cap, a softness in his eyes I'd never seen.

His confession rendered me speechless. "What?" I finally managed to whisper.

"I don't hate you. In fact, I quite like you."

Any other time, I would have lost it on him for being insensitive. Any other time, I would have laughed. Any other time, I wouldn't have believed him.

This time, I could feel the sincerity radiating from him. I could sense the anxiety as he picked at the label on his beer bottle. Despite the stoicism in his expression, there was fear and apprehension in his gaze.

"You ... like me?"

"Is that so hard to believe?"

God, I wanted to believe him. I wanted to be with someone who actually liked me. Wine be damned.

"In a way, yes. I've always gotten the impression that you hated me. Or at least a bit of dislike.”

"I'm sorry I make you feel that way," he said with a sigh. He slid his drink back and forth across the table cloth, his eyes focusing on the bottle moving in his hands. "It isn't easy to work with someone that you are falling for. Especially when they have a boyfriend."

I chose to focus on the last statement. The rest was…too much. "I don't."

Scott's brow furrowed as he raised his eyes to meet mine once again. ”You don't what?"

"I don't have a boyfriend."

"So you and John?" His brows went from furrowed to raised, disappearing into the shadow of his hat.

"I dumped him today."

An emotion I could only describe as hope flickered across his face for a moment before vanishing behind his mask. My heart sank when he slipped back into his public persona. Maybe the wine had me believing things that weren't really there.

"I'm sorry," he muttered as he stood from the table. "Here you are dealing with a break up and I'm ruining your night. I'm gonna go.”

"Stay. Please?" I asked gently.

"You want me to stay? Because it's fine if you I want me to leave you alone. I understand.”

"I really want you to stay. We can't have dinner together when we aren't at the same table. Besides, I would really like some company." The confidence in my voice surprised me. The flurry of emotion in my chest in combination with the three glasses of wine on an empty stomach clouded my head. Tears burned my eyes just like they had been for hours. If he refused, I might actually cry in public.

"Dinner together?"

"My treat."

Scott smiled broadly as he sat back down, removing his cap and running his hand over his head. I was shocked to see that he had thick, dark curls tucked under the hat he always wore. He held my gaze while he took a long drink from the bottle still on the table, the thick muscles in his throat working as he swallowed.

Mesmerized didn't cover it. I was entranced, captivated by the man in front of me that challenged every notion, every idea I held about him. I couldn't even blame the alcohol any longer. Wine may lower my inhibitions but there definitely hadn't been enough to turn Scott into a kind man on its own. Nor had it been enough on its own to ignite the attraction currently taking over my head and heart. Then, he spoke again.

"You are not paying for dinner on our first date.”

Never before has a man made me feel giddy but somehow here I was, excited affection flowing through my veins and warming my chest, butterflies fluttering in my tummy. The wine was definitely not responsible for this.

"First date?" I questioned, hoping that I didn't sound as breathless as I felt.

"I don't want to wait any longer to take you out. And since you are amenable to my company tonight, why not start now?"

"And if I say I don't want this to be a date?"

"You won't."

"How do you know?"

"For starters, I can read you like a book."

"Oh yeah?"

"I can. You have gone from annoyed to intrigued to interested, and that's all before I admitted to a crush on you."

Damn him. "Okay," I conceded as I leaned forward onto the table. "Tell me about a Scott Miller first date."

A cocky grin spread across his face. "Normally, I would have picked you up with a single flower, something seasonal. And I would tuck it in your hair. I also wouldn't be in my work clothes."

"Because you look so bad in them?" I rolled my eyes at the absurdity of him looking bad in anything. I might have thought of him as an asshole, but I wasn't immune to his looks. I might have even checked him out when we first met. Of course, he opened his mouth and spoke shortly after and that ruined the illusion.

"No," he laughed, "because I respect the women I date and I will do more than the bare minimum when we go out."

"Then what would you wear if you're not wearing your work clothes? I don’t know if you even own other clothes." As much as I tried to make it sound like a joke, the underlying sentiment was true. I'd never seen Scott outside of work clothes and I think that had something to do with the way I thought of him.

"I do own other clothes, thank you. Aside from exercise gear, I have dress clothes ranging from business casual to formal black tie."

"Formal black tie? You'll have to tell me about that some time," I said, making a mental note of the exercise gear as well. "But what would you wear on a first date?"

"That depends on what I planned but either a black or cream Henley and dark jeans or black slacks and a blue button down."

His eyes hadn't left me since he sat back down. The intensity of his attention was both flattering and unnerving. Every move I made, every expression that crossed my face he saw. I could only hope he didn’t hear my heart pounding or my breath hitch when I thought of him hot, sweaty, and panting after a workout.

"Dinner would be first," he continued as he gestured for the waiter. He ordered for both of us, surprising me when he ordered my favorite dish for both of us.

"How did you know?"

"Know what?"

"What I would eat. How did you know?"

"Because I know you."

"We haven't had a non-work conversation lasting more than five minutes…ever."

"That doesn't mean I haven't seen you. And learned about you."

"We will save that for another time," I said, holding back a swoon. "So. You order dinner -"

"I don't always order for both of us," he interrupted.

"And then what? Small talk over drinks?"

"If we're getting that deep into detail, yes. We talk over dinner and if we are having a nice time when we're done, we either go mini-golfing, get ice cream, or have a walk in the park."

"That ... actually sounds really nice, Scott," I complimented.

"That isn't what we're doing, though," he smirked, leaning forward onto his elbows, matching my posture.

"It's not?" Disappointment deflated my shoulders and ruined my smile, something that Scott seemed to pick up on immediately.

"I haven't been able to actually plan anything or find out where anything is besides this little dive," he explained. "So, if you want to continue after dinner, I have several seasons of Golden Girls on my laptop. We can go back to the motel and watch some tv."

"Mr. Miller," I gasped comedically, "are you asking me back to your place before we even eat dinner?"

He ducked his head for a second before meeting my eyes again, a teasing, lopsided grin on his face. "I assure you, my intentions are honorable... tonight."

I felt my own breath catch in my chest. The feelings that the wine brought up wouldn't get me laughed out of the company any more but, they were definitely beginning to rage like a wild fire. For a man I never looked at twice. Not in a romantic way. Not until tonight.

That realization crept up on me unexpectedly. Scott could absolutely be someone I could see myself with. At least this version of him, the one with the sweet dates and mesmerizing eyes.

"If your intentions are honorable, how does the night end?"

"How only the best ones end."

"I thought you said your intentions were honorable."

"I meant a good night kiss at your door and the promise of another date."

"That sounds like a perfect ending to a really nice date."

"It does."

"But I have one suggestion," I countered.

"Oh yeah? What's that?"

"You make that good night kiss the second kiss of the night."

"When do you propose this first one happens?"

I gathered every ounce of courage that I possessed and leaned forward, across the small bistro table and breathed a sigh of relief when he matched my movements. Our lips met above the checkered table cloth and my eyes fluttered shut. Scott quickly took control of the kiss, his soft, plump lips moving against my own, pulling my bottom lip between his teeth gently before breaking away.

"Should, uh," I stuttered, "should we get our dinner to go and maybe rethink those intentions?"

Less than a moment later, the waiter appeared with a bag, setting it on an empty chair.

"Your meals are prepared, sir," the waiter announced, "will there be anything else this evening?"

"Just the check," Scott answered without breaking eye contact with me. The waiter walked away and Scott shrugged. "I told you I could read you."

"You have a queen room, right?"

Scott scoffed. "No. I have a king room. Besides, even if I didn't, I would upgrade. You deserve only the best."

"Then show me the best."

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for unfriending somebody because she got a girlfriend?

💋💋💋

I [21F] was good friends with “Amy” [21F]. We’d been acquaintances for a while and didn’t talk much until one day we went to a bar and started flirting while drunk. Nothing came of that directly but ever since then we had a very flirtatious relationship, constantly talking about cuddling, making out, and even having sex. (Note this was mostly over text haha) We never fully sexted but we came close enough.

It was to the point that pretty much every time we interacted we were flirting with each other or talking about how we wanted to fuck. We also both acknowledged that we had feelings for each other but neither of us asked the other out. I don’t know exactly why she didn’t (I know a few possible reasons but not the exact), but I personally didn’t because I’m terrible in relationships and am not ready for commitment. I was pretty much fine just flirting, I kind of wanted to date her but I knew it wouldn’t be a good idea.

Anyway, after a few months of us flirting, she tells me she started dating one of her best friends. I was pretty upset but doing my best not to show it because it’s not her fault that I didn’t want to commit. She also added that she didn’t want to flirt with me anymore but she still wanted to be friends.

I told her I didn’t really have interest in staying friends. After all, the majority of our friendship was just us flirting with each other, so if she’s no longer willing to do that (which obviously I understand why), what was the point of us staying friends? We didn’t have a lot in common, I mean there’s a reason we didn’t become close until after the bar incident. So I knew we probably wouldn’t talk much now that we weren’t flirting.

I tried to make it clear that I still liked her (platonically) and I had nothing against her and I fully understood why we couldn’t flirt anymore, but she still got really upset with me. Which… I can understand why, but I also thought she’d understand why I didn’t think our friendship was going to last now that she was in a relationship.

My friends were all shocked when they found out me and Amy weren’t talking anymore, and when I explained why they all thought I was a total AH. I thought I was being reasonable but they told me I was probably just jealous and lashing out. And I mean. Yeah I’m pretty jealous but I wouldn’t purposefully lash out because of that when I know it’s irrational — I just genuinely didn’t think we’d have anything to talk about anymore.

Am I the Asshole???

[system-to-the-madness]

Cherry Blossom Fireworks 🌸 Itadori Yūji x Reader

Pairing: Itadori Yūji x Reader (can be read as any gender, no pronouns used) Genre: fluff Word Count: 1 346 Summary: Yūji and you attend a festival together

Sakura Festival Masterlist - Masterlist

The fabric of the small plushy was cool and soft underneath your fingertips as you held tighter onto it, trying to chase away the chill that had started to set in. It was dark, only the lanterns in the blooming cherry trees lighting up the area. Around you, a crowd had gathered, the visitors of the festival eager to witness the fireworks in the night sky. You were leaning against a balustrade that separated the cobblestone path through the park from the pond before you. Moonlight and the shimmer of the lanterns reflected on the calm surface in whites and oranges between the pink of the fallen petals drifting on water.

Holding the plushy tighter, you looked up, searching for that familiar mop of pink hair in the crowd. Yūji, who had come to the festival with you, had disappeared a while ago, claiming he wanted to grab some cream crepes, but he had been gone for almost twenty minutes now, and the fireworks were about to start any moment. Where was he?

Just as the thought threatened to occur, that maybe he had just left, not feeling like pushing his way back through the crowd, you saw him waving to you. As quickly as the crowded place allowed, he made his way over, grinning broadly. He was dressed in a beige Yukata, holding up a crepe in his one hand, waving to you with the other.

“I made it,” he grinned, when he stepped beside you, leaning his back against the balustrade. “I almost thought I’d be too late!”

Not waiting for your comment, he took a bite off the cream filled crepe before offering it to you, practically shoving it into your face, so you would also take a bite. You leant back a bit, examining the pink, Sakura flavoured cream, before nibbing at the treat, earning some raised eyebrows from Yūji.

“Come on,” he scolded. “What was that? Take a proper bite.”

“But you bought it for yourself,” you protested.

“I bought it, so we’d share it. So come on!”

You rolled your eyes at him before reaching up with your free hand, supporting his, and leading the crepe back to your mouth, taking a bigger bite this time.

“See, not that hard,” Yūji grinned, seemingly not noticing the way your face heated up at the way your cold hand had brushed over his warm one. He always seemed to be running warm, you thought. While you were wearing your warmer kimono and still felt chilly in the spring evening, he was only dressed in a Yukata, and seemed perfectly fine.

Yūji took another bite of the crepe, before his eyes landed on the plushie in your hand, and he pouted.

“I really thought I could win the bigger one,” he mumbled, around the dough and cream in his mouth.

You looked down at the plushie too. You supposed it was a Sakura mochi, big, stitched on eyes and a cute, blushy smile stitched onto fluffy, pink fabric.

“It’s the perfect size, I think,” you smiled, lifting it up between Yūji and you, before booping it against his nose, making him giggle.

While he held the crepe out to you, feeding you another bite, you couldn’t help but wonder, what had been going on with the two of you. You were friends after all, right? It didn’t matter that ever since you had gotten to know him better, you had steadily developed feelings for him, and it also didn’t matter that you spent almost every day together. You were friends, so it was normal that you two would go to the festival together, right? But he had been acting different today, actually he had already acted differently when he had asked you to go with him.

He had been all bashful and had stuttered again and again throughout the evening, which was unusual for him. And you were acting differently too. Were you flirting with him? Was he flirting with you? First, he had insisted on sharing some yakisoba and some melon float. Then he had gotten competitive with some other high schooler over a stupid game in which he had won the Sakura mochi plushie, which he had insisted on gifting you. After that, he had let you hook your hand into his arm, and you had walked around the park, marvelling at the sight of the blooming trees all around you. You had walked so closely, that you had felt his warmth bleeding through the layers of clothes separating you. And now he was feeding you a crepe and you booped him with the plushie he had gotten you… What was going on?

You finished the treat in silence, both of you painfully aware of the other’s stolen glances. Just as Yūji had fed you the last bite, an announcement declated, that the fireworks would soon start, and Yūji turned to you excitedly.

“I love fireworks,” he grinned, as if he only just now had learned that there would be a show tonight. “Hey, are you cold?”

Apparently, you had not been as good in hiding your shivering from him as you had hoped to be.

“It’s okay,” you assured him, hoping your voice was not as shaky as your hands. “Just a bit chilly.”

Yūji contemplated you with a serious expression for a moment before he spoke up. “Want me to hug you?”

Confused you blinked at him. “What?”

Instead of a proper answer, he just opened his arms a little, inviting you to move closer. Any other day you would have laughed, trying to hide your embarrassment, and how much you really wanted to be held by him, but like an accumulation of the entire afternoon and evening, in which you seemed to have done nothing but flirt with each other, you simply gave in, hoping you wouldn’t regret your actions later.

Quickly you stepped forwards, wrapping your arms around Yūji’s middle, while he closed his around your back, pulling you against him. Like before, you couldn’t help but notice how warm he was. Warm and safe, his arms strong but gentle around your frame, his subtle scent mixing with that of the night air around you. He never smelled of any strong deodorants or perfumes or shampoos, you noted. He mostly didn’t seem to have any smell at all. Only when you hugged him as closely as you did now, although usually those hugs barely lasted a few seconds, only then did you pick up on that note that was distinctively Yūji.

“Is this better,” he asked, his voice more resembling a deep rumble in his chest than actual words.

You only hummed in agreement, nuzzling your face closer to him, relishing the warmth that he engulfed you with in the hug.

“Can I ask your something,” he asked, and again you hummed affirmatively. “Would you go on a date with me?”

This time you didn’t hum, instead let his words sink in before you turned your head so you could look at him.

“This wasn’t a date?”

He only blinked, a blush beginning to rise into his cheeks.

“What I mean,” you continued, “I know we didn’t declare this as a date, so technically it isn’t. But I can’t imagine a better first date than this, so we could make this our first date retrospectively.”

A smile tucked at Yūji’s lips as he thought about your words for a moment before he nodded.

“Sounds good to me,” he agreed. He seemed to want to say something else, but in that moment an explosion and the collective gasp of the crowd made you turn around in his arms, watching the first stars of the firework glimmer above the lake.

Yūji leant his head against your shoulder, pressing a chase kiss to your hair, as you watched the firework together which seemed to mirror the fireworks that felt like they were sparking inside you. But it was hard to focus on anything other than him, once he had whispered: “Would you also go to a second date with me?”

@delzinrowe

[dirtybitfic]

so wrong yet so right

matt sturniolo x y/n

Contains- lecture, disciplinary conversation, dirty talk , flirting, humiliation.

( matt is your professor and you've been skipping class so he has you stay after class to talk)

y/n pov ~

I've been seeing this guy on and off for a while but recently he's been persuading me to skip my lectures and I agree every time. Today I told him I have to go to my class due to the fact if I missed today id be dropped from the class and I don't need to deal with that and my parents would be up my ass.

I grabbed my bag and packed up my shit and started my 8 minute drive to campus. Im honestly glad my apartment isn’t far from campus or id be late to every class ever.

I parked and made my way into the building. The halls were quiet since this is a later class and most of the building is used in the morning.

I had my air pods in as I listened to Maria Maria by Santana and the product G&B.

I open the door of my lecture room and make my way down the first two steps choosing to sit further in the back .

I sit down and bring out my computer to type notes during the lecture and wait for the class to fill up.

After about 5 minutes the room was filled to the brim with bored students ready for the day to over since its Friday and everyone just wants to be out at the clubs and parties taking place for st.Patricks day.

im gonna be honest this class is kinda boring I had to take it so I have to suffer through but ... the professor is hot asf so I don't mind being stuck in this room for 2 hours and 15 minutes.

Okay guys today were going to be sharing the stories you've all written throughout this week . professor Sturniolo says as he dims the lights and calls up the first student to read their story.

This is a creative writing class and we’re aloud to write anything we want but I missed the fact we’d be sharing the storys... I find that my best writing is dark romance . It's all I read and it's all that keeps me interested .

There is NO FUCKING WAY i'm reading this shit in front of the class . I guess from the class I missed on Tuesday was when he explained that we’d be sharing them with the class.

After about 10 students we were an hour into class . This is a smaller class probably around 60 people. Im praying to god we don't get through everyone today so I can write up a new story over the weekend that isn't filled with smut and masks and corn mazes like the one I have written this week.

I had to pee when we got to the 30th story so I got up quietly slipping out and rushing to the bathroom.

Call me crazy but every time my eyes drifted to Professor Sturniolo his eyes were already on me . Id like to think i'm delusional but the eye contact we held as he gave me a stern look had me feeling otherwise.

I made my way back to class and sat back down . Im guessing we were on about the 35 story when he said we only had time for about three more after this one.

THANK FUCKING GOD I CAN WRITE A NEW STORY THIS WEEKEND I thought to myself as another guy came up to read his story.

I was in shock after he read his it was a story about an old couple with dementia and the only people they could remember in the end was each other as they died in each others arms listening to their first dance song from their wedding. Im not gonna lie I shed some tears .

I looked back at Professor sturniolo as he called the second to last person up to read . He looked at me with a smirk and I swear I saw his Adams apple bob as if he was chuckling at the fact I was crying from the story that was just read. I quickly wiped my tears and sank into my seat.

After the last story of the class he started talking about how he wants everyone to start a new story and have it ready for next Fridays class .

I want you guys to focus your next stories on a specific feeling . It could be anger, happiness envy... anything you're feeling in the moment . I know I don't usually give prompts but I want you guys to express your feelings and show me through your writing style so I can feel them as well . Portraying feelings is a way to keep your reader interested . Have a good weekend and be safe .

everyone starts packing up and I do as well until ...

Ms y/l/n can you stay for a second we need to talk about some things

I loudly gulp as I look down the stairs where he stands as I nod my head and make my way down to him as the last students filter out.

have a seat ms y/l/n he says motioning to the seat in front of where he stands .

I do and sit quietly waiting for him to speak.

so would you like to tell me why you've missed two weeks of class he asks as he walks to his desk grabbing a few things and putting them in his bag.

I have no good explanation so I make one up hoping he'll believe it.

I was sick the first week and last week I had car troubles and was unable to get transportation here. I say sounding a bit unsure.

did you go to the doctor for a sick note he asks as he walks over to me standing in front of me looking down at me all the sudden making me nervous.

umm no

then I cant except that excuse . As for the car troubles ... uber is an option or the bus he says narrowing his eyes on me .

I mean ... yes but I...

I think your lying to me y/n and I don't appreciate it. Id like to think I make this class fun and you are a good writer what could possibly be worth waisting your talent hmm? he asks as he kneels down in front of the desk so I have to make eye contact with him .

I don't know I whisper as my face gets red and all the sudden the room starts to get hot.

Its a boy isn't it he ask as he tilts his head and narrows his eyes.

what ... I ask looking at him scrunching my eye brows

oh come on y/n your face says it all . I hate to see you skip class for someone who keeps you from having good grades and staying focused

I don't know what your talking about ... like I said I was sick and my car was broken so I say as I look away . How did my face give him that much intell.

okay y/n here's what we're gonna do i'm going to ignore the fact that you are blatantly lying to my face and i'll let these absences slide . But... if you even think of skipping my class again I will drop you and you will have to retake my class next semester... an I understood?

y-yes sir thank you I say as I take a breathe I didn't realize I was holding and look back up at him as he stands above me.

now did you write a story this week even though you were absent?

I want to lie and say no but i'm already on his bad side . I hate to say it but... he looks so hot when he's being stern and slightly irritated. He's only 27 and im 22 which is slightly weird. Most of my professors are old as fuck but it's kind of refreshing to have a young teacher.

Yeah I did I just... I didn't know we’d have to share them in front of the class and its not exactly... something I want to read to 60 people. I say as I avert my eyes to the ground.

Then good thing you'll be reading it to me right now... I know your style of writing I read them on a weekly bases but if you'd come to class on tuesday you would have known you'd have to read it aloud .

y-you want me to read it to you now I ask as I look up at him with raised brows and worry in my eyes.

yes unless you have somewhere to be thats more important . The correct answer would be " no sir ill read it now" his tone was laced with attitude mixed with a degrading flare that had me clenching my thighs.

no sir I have no where to be ill read it now I say with a tinge of attitude .

good girl now grab your computer and come back down here and start reading when your ready

I swallow thickly when he calls me good girl as my thighs squeeze together and my face gets red . It's so wrong to think of my professor in the ways I am but he makes its so hard not too. He looks down at my clenched legs smirking and walking to his desk grabbing his chair and sitting it in front of the desk I am at .

I get up and walk back up to where I left my bag grabbing my computer and bringing it back down . Opening it up and logging in as I find my story in google docs and take a breathe . Ive never had to read what I wrote out loud and I hate it so much . The fact i'm about to read a full on sex scene to my teacher should be illegal but he reads my story's each week so how bad could this be right.

whenever you're ready he says as he leans back in his chair waiting for me to start.

o-okay I say as I look down and start reading .

I was running through the corn field the three boys chasing after me from all sides . I cant tell who's who from the masks but I know if they catch me i'm screwed. Im being smacked and sliced by the sharps thick dried shucks from the corn but I power through trying my best to get away untouched . I decide to take a left and run down a narrow path that had been cut . I hear a low chuckle close by as I look over and I continue running to see the gold mask looking at me as the boy approaches me quickly . You can keep running all you want but we will catch you and you'll pay for what you did I hear a deep voice call from behind me . My breathing accelerated as my legs grow week from the amount of running i've been doing tonight. The path all the sudden opens to a large circle with a cross in the middle where they tie up the scar crows but it seems to be missing but fresh ropes lays over the arm parts. I turn around and all the sudden my body is knocked to the ground by a large hard object tackling me .GET OFF ME I scream as the man who pummeled me to the ground holds me down sitting on my legs so I cant fight back. Should have kept running darling you're in for it now he says as the other two apear behind him. Fuck all of you I spit as they all hover over me . The one holding me down hoists me up and the others grab my arms as they push me back into the cross. The ropes that were hanging are all the sudden around my wrists as they tie me to the cross and my breathing starts to pick up . What the fuck are you doing stop take me down now I say to them as I start to panic. Mmmm no. You knew we'd come for you after you sent Darren to prison and now... you'll pay for your sins the one in the black mask says as he steps close to me and I suck in a breathe . He deserves every single year he’ll be in there and I will never be sorry for it. I say as I try to kick him in the leg but fail when my arms burn form the movement causing me to whine. Easy sweetheart your only going to hurt yourself if you keep doing that the one in the red mask says as he steps up to me . Now are you ready to pay for your sins red masks says . What fucking sins I did what had to be done I bite back.

You see sending him to prison hurt all of us and you're going to repay us . You're going to be our own personal slut . We'll take every part of you until you finally realize what you did was a huge mistake black mask says as he steps up to me grabbing me by the neck . Hell no I scold him . These three boys are crazy and deranged . So dark that it feels like the moon barely even shows when they appear.

Jake mullin , Kade Brooksville and Connor palemess are some of the worst guys you'll ever meet . They are so attractive it hurts to even look at them but they have the worst personality known to man. I knew that they would make me pay for sending their best friend to prison but after Darren killed my brother I went psychotic and tracked down any information I could to put him behind bars but at what cost.

Now they want to use my body in a form of pay back for what I did. I should be angry and disgusted but ... the thought of these three men using me like their own personal toy has me dripping wet and embarrassingly I want them in ways i've never wanted a man in my life .

They each rip off their masks and i'm met with their faces.

Jake with his blue eyes and blond hair with a perfect jawline and juicy lips, Kade with his dark hair , stubble over his sharp jaw and perfect green eyes and last Conner with his hazel eyes and sandy brown hair with a perfect button nose and sharp jaw.

Kade steps in front of me as his hands move to my waist in a tight grip causing me to gasp .Now be a good girl and spread your legs he says deeply as he towers over me . I swallow but do as im told not feeling like putting up a fight and excepting the punishment for my actions. He pulls my shorts down along with my underwear tossing them back to Jake as his right hand moves down to my bare pussy causing me to gasp. mm someones dripping wet he says with a smirk that I wish I could punch off his face . Fuck you I say as I look up at his green eyes that are boring into me . He shoves two fingers inside me and I moan out as he speeds them up and grips my jaw with the other . Look at you such a slut enjoying what i'm doing to you he says as he gets in my face keeping eye contact as I struggle to keep my eyes from rolling back. i'm shaking and moaning as my orgasm washes over me . Kade chuckling in my face as he watches me fall apart .

Connor come behind her and hold her legs up Kade says as he starts unbuckling his belt. My eyes widen as my body is picking up and conners strong veiny arms wrap underneath my thighs holding me up. Kades jeans drop to his ankles as he moves to take his boxers off too. I look down to see his long and thick dick clad with 4 Jacobs ladder piercings making me gulp.

He steps up to me and I meet eyes with him as his glisten with lust and a tinge of devilish intent. He smirks at me and I want to die right here right now. I should be fighting this I should be disgusted but... i've never wanted something so much in my life. This is going to hurt but punishments shouldn't be enjoyable. he says deeply as he slides the tip in causing me to gasp and my face to squeeze in discomfort. So fucking tight he groans as he slides more in and I feel every piercing as he thrusts in all the way and I scream. The pain of the stretch has my hands balling to fists and my eyes to water. He starts pounding into me harshly as my breathing is rapid and my muscles tense the pain hurts so good. Thats it take it all he groans as he gropes my ass and pounds faster hitting my g spot repeatedly . This goes on for god knows how long and I’ve lost count of how many orgasms I’ve had . All I can do is breathe harshly when he finally finishes inside me and pulls out as Conner drops my legs and I hang on the ropes as my legs give out. Mmm I think we should just leave you here like this Kade says as he buttons his jeans and looks at me .My face is covered in tears and spit and I struggle to keep my eyes open from the exhaustion my body is feeling right now .Please don’t I whisper with a raspy voice . He chuckles as he tells the others to untie my wrists and Conner puts my short back on but keeps my underwear shoving them in his back pocket . Kade picks me up throwing me over his shoulder and walks back through the maze to his car throwing me in and driving back to their large mansion .

I take a deep breathe and stare at my computer when I finish reading the story unable to meet his eyes.

I mean y/n I must say you’re an amazing writer . You know how to set a science and really make the reader be able to envision where the story takes place.

Thank you sir I say but I still don’t look at him

When you write these stories do you envision yourself as the girl character he asks in a tone that has my eyes snapping up to meet his

Ummm … I guess yeah

Interesting he says as a smile forms on his face

You could easily be a dark romance author you have a talent for it … I mean these fantasy’s are thoroughly thought through and I think people would enjoy reading something like this. If I have to admit I read a lot of dark romance books myself and your writing reminds me a lot of books I’ve read and enjoyed

I smile at him as my face blushes and he notices as a smirk comes to his face.

Thank you sir I … appreciate that a lot

He stands up from his chair and come behind me as he bends down to be ear level with me.

Now. You better keep that promise about coming to my class from now on . I know you can be a good girl for me okay .

His voice so deep in my ear I feel the vibrations in my head and I accidentally let a whine out when he says good girl again and I hear him chuckle in my ear as he places a hand on my shoulder as he stands up to his full height.

Thank you for staying ms y/l/n . I can’t wait to read your next piece have a good weekend

I grab my computer and smile at him .

You too Mr Sturniolo I say as I rush up the stairs to my bag and rush out of the class room.

God wtf is wrong with me I think as I get back to my apartment and flop down onto my bed .

the way he spoke into my ear .... the heat of his hand on my shoulder... the way he calls me good girl.

the way i'm thinking about my professor right now is not okay and I know that but fuck me I cant stop myself from going to my nightstand and grabbing my vibrator.

Ever since I left that building tonight I couldn't deny the pulsing between my thighs and wetness that pooled when I read my story to him .

I strip and lay down on my bed as my minds ran wild with thoughts of professor Sturniolo .

maybe this will get him out of my head and ill be able to focus from now on.

Matts pov-

Y/n is a great writer but god reading her story each week drives me wild. I know thinking of students sexually is wrong and morally illegal but I cant help myself .

I was pissed off that she skipped two weeks of my class ... yeah obviously because she should be focused on finishing out her senior year with passing grades but also because I love watching her in my classroom as she works on her dirty little stories.

The way she bites her lip in concentration… the little smirk she gets when I know she’s writing a dirty line… the way she clenches her thighs when I call her a good girl

I know she’s my student and I shouldn’t be thinking these things about her but … I pull up her last story in my computer and decide this is the least time I’ll ever jerk off to the thought of her.

I need to clear her out of my head and be professional from now on .

Next class is gonna be different….

Part 2 coming soon 💋

[blessedwithabadomen]

in love with the mess - day zero

summary : Aubrey is going on tour and, for once, she's decided to focus on having as much fun as possible. Oli can be a little shit but he does nothing short of adore Audrey and... well, maybe Noah a little, too. Noah likes the flirting, as long as no one gets too close, emotionally. But what will happen when the three of them take it too far?

content : fluff

length : 3.2k

tags : @veronicaphoenix @cookiesupplier @lma1986 @jilliemiw86 @bngurngheart @lacktoesandtoddlerants @narcissisticbehavior81

a/n : hi everyone!! I hope you'll enjoy this, comments and reblogs and asks are always more than appreciated!!

•••

day zero

Time moved differently on tour. It always had, as long as I’d worked on them. Go away for a week and it’ll simultaneously feel like you only left home yesterday and as if you’ve been on the road for a month straight. 15 days didn’t seem too bad this time around. I’d done double that, triple that, easily. I basked in the feeling of how it fucked with time perception. Days flying by so fast I couldn’t quite grasp it, memories so fleeting and yet so fully anchored to my being. At the same time, in between, I already knew that I’d have days where this tour felt like a lifetime. Too many places in too little time, so many faces, different venues, different people, fans, the same setlists every night. And afterward, life wouldn’t be quite the same. Not this time around.

•••

“There she is!”

Oli’s voice was much too loud in the hotel lobby. Several people turned around, even if I wasn’t sure if it was because they recognised him or simply because they were questioning who was being so damn loud in this rather nice place. He crossed the room in long strides as I quickly gave the receptionist a nod while she handed over my room key.

He looked different than the last time I’d seen him in person, which, admittedly, had been… a while. There had been constant texting, a familiar voice in my ear whenever I needed it, video calls at any opportunity, all based on a friendship we’d both worked hard to grow over the last decade or so, but lately both of us had been busy on such opposing schedules that any in-person meetings got delayed and delayed again.

Whenever he was on the road, I was stuck at a job far away and when I was working on a different local tour, he was busy recording in a different country. It was why he made sure that now, when he was embarking on a massive arena tour with his band and I was miraculously free for all of January, he got me a job allowing me to tag along. It was so much more than I could ask for.

Still. It had been longer than I’d like to admit since the two of us had met in person and none of the pictures I’d been looking at or the video calls we’d been chatting through had done Oli Sykes any justice. He’d been hitting the gym, I knew that much, but the way he now filled out his frame had me giving him a once over as he approached. His hair was longer now, too. He looked healthier, I thought. Healthier and happier.

At least I wasn’t crushing on him anymore. I had spent a good few years with a special place in your heart reserved just for him, well aware that it had never been reciprocated. Nothing had ever happened, save a few harmless flirtations here and there. One of us had always been in a relationship, had someone else on their mind or simply enjoying their single life. It wasn’t like he’d be interested in me either way, I told yourself. And I was over all of that, even if both of us actually were available at the same time for once. It didn’t matter.

I greeted Oli with a smile as both of us immediately went for a hug. He’d always been a very touchy person, something that had been feeding my crush in the most unhealthy ways, but as someone who was also constantly in a state of touch starvation, I appreciated it either way. His arms held me tightly. I was convinced I could feel every individual muscle under my fingers as they traced his back and I just knew he was smiling into my hair as he rested his head on mine, his perfume engulfing me, and-

Yeah, fuck. I wasn’t over him. Like, at all.

I let go of him a little too abruptly, terrified he could feel the way my heart rate was speeding up, but he didn’t mention it. The weight of my realisation was hitting me hard.

I was going to have to spend the next two and a half weeks with him, as close as ever. And I was going to be crushing on him as much as ever. Great.

“Thank you for getting me on this tour,” I said anyway because truly, having someone basically fight to create a job for me just to make sure I could tag along and get paid for it out of pure friendship wasn’t something I was taking for granted. It wasn’t Oli’s fault my feelings weren’t under control.

“I’ll have you know that I missed three meetings to convince them that I needed a personal assistant to keep me on track.”

“Damn, so I’ll actually have to interact with you and make sure you are where you need to be at all times?” I joked.

“You also get to go on burger runs after the show. You’re basically my slave now.”

I decided to ignore the way his statement makes a shiver run down my spine. He didn’t need to know how far my services would extend, if he ever asked for it.

“Everyone in the tour group chat is making fun of me by the way. They’ve all very lovingly changed my contact name to ‘Oli’s slut’, so you’re not that far off.”

“Wait, there’s a groupchat I’m not part of?” Oli was halfway to pulling out his phone, apparently shocked at the idea that other people working this tour would connect without him being the centre of attention or even included at all, but he was interrupted.

The interruption came in the form of Noah Sebastian, tall, all smiles, and, somehow, even more beautiful in person than I’d gathered he would be from pictures and videos. One of his hands came to rest on Oli’s shoulder, making him look up with a bright smile, as the other reached out to me.

“Noah Sebastian,” he introduced himself, as if there was any chance I could possibly not be aware. “I sing in Bad Omens.”

“Hi! I’m Oli’s slut.” A brief pause. Panic as I gripped his hand tighter upon realising just which words had left my mouth. “No! Wait! Personal assistant! Oh my god. Aubrey. That’s my name.”

I couldn’t tell whose laughter was louder out of the two of them, but I was mortified. This was possibly the worst first impression I had ever made. And I’d made a lot of them.

“Where did you find her?” Noah laughed. “I like her already.”

Oli slung his arm around me, pressing my blushing face to his chest. I both wanted to burrow myself into the fabric of his hoodie and withdraw immediately before the heat in my cheeks got any worse.

“Oh, years ago, mate. She’s a keeper. A little socially inept though, obviously.”

“I fucking hate you,” I mumbled as I untangled myself from Oli. “I’m gonna go to my room and hide away until I’ve learned how to behave in public again.”

Grabbing my bag from off the floor and double checking that the key card I’d been handed hadn’t, somehow, vanished into the abyss, I turned to take the handle of my suitcase only to find it was already in Noah’s hand.

“I’m going to join you,” he said. I didn’t miss the way Oli raised his eyebrows. “In going upstairs, I mean, not going to your room. I’m… very jetlagged.”

“You two are a right pair,” Oli commented with a chuckle and a shake of his head. “This is going to be a great fucking tour.”

•••

“Is this the first tour you’re working on?”

I stopped at the door leading to my hotel room, Noah coming to a halt next to me and pushing my suitcase in my general direction. I was unreasonably nervous. Somehow, even though we were in a pretty public hallway in a pretty public hotel, no one else was around. I hadn’t counted on being alone with him so quickly, even if it was possibly the least conspicuous situation imaginable. Leaning back against the door, I fumbled with the keycard to keep my hands preoccupied.

“Oh no, I’ve done my fair share, actually. It’s how I met Oli, years ago, on one of the first jobs I ever had. I’ve mainly been doing merch or helping out as someone’s assistant, usually a tour manager’s. When he found out I was going to be free for this tour, he really wanted to get me on it, but they’d filled all positions already, so he convinced management that he needed a personal assistant. And here I am!”

“What’s that entail then? Your job? I might be in the business of hiring a personal assistant for myself, some time in the future.”

The way he was towering over me as he leaned against the wall, a smirk on his lips, eyes travelling over my face… was he flirting with me? I’d always been terrible at telling. Especially when it came to attractive people. There was a constant fear my interpretations could just be down to wishful thinking.

“Knowing Oli, it’s probably going to be a lot of running around to fetch him food and the most random assortments of items that he suddenly needs for no reason whatsoever. Other than that, I’m responsible for kicking his ass and keeping him on time for everything. I’m allowed to use physical force if necessary, he gave me that in writing. I’m definitely going to enjoy that part.”

“Sounds like Oli’s your slut, to be honest.”

If there had been any liquid anywhere near my mouth, I would have done a spit take. The implications of it, as well as the tone of his low voice muttering the word slut was enough to do me in. There wasn’t, though, so I simply gaped at Noah for a moment before erupting into laughter.

“You know, it really does. I’m going to remember that. Don’t tell him though. He likes to think he’s the dominant one in this situation.”

Noah pushed himself away from the wall, giving me another smile that sent shivers down my spine, before turning to walk away. “I can’t wait to see you put him in his place. I’m going to be watching.”

•••

The room was nicer than any I had ever been put in while working on a tour and, even more importantly, I wasn’t sharing it with anyone. I didn’t know what kind of strings Oli had pulled to make this happen, but I would thank him thoroughly for it. In any way he deemed acceptable.

I shook the thought from my head.

It didn’t work.

So, I did the only thing that made sense. I called my best friend.

“Lia, I’m in fucking trouble,” was the first thing I said to her. We’d never been too fond of greetings.

“Did you get arrested before tour even started again?” Her voice came through the phone, somewhere between accusatory and amused.

“That never happened! It was a case of mistaken identity and they let me go immediately. Anyway. No. My problem is that I want to fuck my boss.”

“And that’s news to you how?” she scoffed.

“Lia!”

“What! How is it any secret, or ever has been, that you want to bone Oli Sykes?”

I fell down onto my bed in defeat. It was extremely comfortable, which did ease my pain momentarily. I would get an amazing night’s sleep here.

“I thought I was over it,” I whined. “I thought I was going to be fine but he’s fit as fuck and I’m gonna have to spend every fucking day with him. Never mind Noah.”

“Noah? Okay, now you have my attention.”

“I didn’t have it before? Rude.”

“Less complaining, more talking about Noah please.”

“He’s fucking dreamy, I’ll tell you that. And a flirt. I think? I’ve yet to determine it for sure. And I’ve only seen him and Oli interact once but Oli looks at him like the sun shines from his arse so he’ll probably be around all the time, too.”

Lia didn’t say anything for a long, long moment. Long enough that I pulled the phone from my ear briefly just to check that the connection hadn’t dropped. When she finally spoke again, she sounded much more serious than I’d heard her in a while.

“Aubrey. I know I make fun of you a lot.” True. “And I know that I don’t always give the best advice.” Also true, sometimes painfully so. “But I love you and you need to listen to me for once, yeah? Have some fucking fun.”

I had to admit, that wasn’t the advice I thought I was going to hear.

“You have this weird thing about not allowing yourself to let loose and enjoy yourself but I’m giving you explicit permission. Do whatever feels right. Flirt with anyone who’s attractive to you and wants to flirt back. Make a move on Oli. Make a move on Noah. I don’t fucking care. But stop depriving yourself of happiness because you, for some unexplainable reason, think you don’t deserve it. Please, Aubrey. Have some fun on this tour. Okay?”

I was dumbstruck. For a while, I didn’t know what to say, but Lia stayed silent, waiting it out. Waiting until her words seeped into my brain. Started to make sense. And I knew. I knew she was right. I’d been focused on chasing after job opportunities, constantly trying to prove myself, travelling from one place to another, and never had I stopped and taken a moment to allow myself to really be happy. I hadn’t had a relationship since… I didn’t want to think about it. Hell, I hadn’t even touched anyone in forever. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d gotten drunk, stayed out until sunlight, sang my heart out, let go.

And this tour… Oli had given me the job because he wanted to hang out with me. I didn’t have anything to prove. So I took a breath. And I told Lia a single word.

“Okay.”

•••

I was almost asleep, clad in a pair of shorts and an old shirt and covered under the blanket, when my phone chimed with the tell-tale jingle I’d assigned to Oli. He was my boss, after all. I felt like I should at least make an effort to make sure I’d notice his attempts to contact me, even if it only came in the form of a personalised ringtone.

Oli u up? Aubrey Is this a booty call Oli come over

I knew I didn't have a good enough reason to refuse. Double checking that I had noted down his room number, I grabbed my key card and phone and quickly padded down the hallway, thanking the lords that no one bumped into me. Oli opened the door the second I put my knuckles against it to knock. He didn't waste any time pulling me into the room and onto his bed by my hand.

“Wow, forward much? Normally I at least get dinner before jumping into bed with someone,” I joked.

“Love, I’ve taken you out for food so many times, you should get on your knees without me having to ask.”

I landed a good slap to the back of his head for his comment. It seemed better than to acknowledge the fact that I would, definitely, without question, get on my knees for him, and now my head was once again flooded with inappropriate images. Settling on the mattress next to him, I tried not to get too close to Oli, which shouldn’t have been a difficult feat on a double bed, but as soon as he had grabbed his laptop again, he shuffled so close that his thigh was touching mine.

“Can I show you some stuff?” he asked, blissfully unaware of the turmoil in my heart, as he was rapidly opening and closing tabs on his laptop. I simply nodded, waiting for him to continue. “I know you’re going to see most of it tomorrow, I made sure the sound tech people are cool with you staying at the sound desk if you want so you can get a good look at the whole show, but look, we did a whole video montage that’s going to play before the encore, and…”

Oli talked and talked and talked, about the show, about the planning of it all, about their rehearsals, showing me pictures and videos and blueprints and all I could do was sit and listen and fall in love with the sound of his voice a little bit more. He was catching me up on everything I could have possibly missed, letting me listen to everything he was expecting to happen in the next two weeks, and how he couldn’t believe I was actually there and part of it all.

“Having you and Noah here is the fucking best,” he grinned, somehow snuggling even closer into me. I let him, against my better judgement, as always.

“Someone’s a bit in love with him,” I teased.

“Everyone is a bit in love with him. You’ve met him. Prettiest dude on tour.”

“Apart from you.” It slipped out before I realised the thought was even in my brain, but Oli seemed delighted.

“You think I’m pretty?” He fluttered his eyelashes in a way that would have been purely obnoxious, usually, but all I could focus on was how fucking pretty he did indeed look. “You think I’m cute? You wanna kiss me? You wanna hold my hand?”

“Oh my god, I take it back,” I groaned, pushing him away and attempting to crawl out of his bed, but his arms grabbed onto my middle and pulled me back before I got anywhere at all. He seemed to anticipate me trying to fight his grip, because as soon as I made any further move, his fingers found the skin under my shirt and began tickling my stomach in relentless cruelty. Within seconds, I was reduced to a shouting, giggling mess, tears threatening to spill from my eyes as I wriggled underneath him, to no avail.

“Please, please, Oli!” I gasped, breathlessly. “You’re- fuck, you’re the prettiest!”

His torment stopped immediately, but our position didn’t change. I was still trapped under his broad frame, his hands still on me, his hair almost tickling my face, he was that close. My breathing was going fast, trying to calm down after his attack, but his proximity didn’t help at all. For a moment, a long moment, we simply stared at each other, all fight leaving our bodies. Then, just as I wondered if anything was actually going to happen, he sat back up, busying himself with his laptop and fixing the blanket.

I almost missed it when he muttered, “For the record, I think you’re the prettiest, too.”

[daitranscripts]

Trespasser Conversation

Iron Bull

Trespasser Masterpost Iron Bull Masterpost

Krem is in a relationship with Maryden Iron Bull: So, you and the bard. You know most bards are spies, right? Krem: You [are/were] a spy, chief. Iron Bull: (Sighs.) Look, I just don’t want you to get… burned. Krem: Don’t say it… Iron Bull: Because then you’d be… Krem: (Sighs.) Iron Bull: Krem brûlée!

Bull is Tal-Vashoth, returned from the Deep Roads Iron Bull: Wish I hadn’t burned all my contacts with the Ben-Hassrath. Be nice to have some idea what they’re doing right now. Krem: Yeah, but then you’d be on their side, chief. Iron Bull: Yes, but I’d know things. I like knowing things.

Bull is Ben-Hassrath, returned from the Deep Roads Iron Bull: I’ve sent word to the Ben-Hassrath. We’ve got to stop this Dragon’s Breath before it goes any further. It can’t have been authorized. My people wouldn’t do this.

Romanced Iron Bull: Hey, kadan.

Iron Bull: Hey, boss.

1 - Dialogue options:

Investigate (Krem is in a relationship with Maryden): How is Maryden, Krem? [2]

Investigate (returned from the Deep Roads): Tell me about these Qunari. [3]

Flirt: You ever want to get married? [4]

General (Chargers survived): How are the Chargers? [5]

General (allied with the Qunari): How is our alliance? [6]

General: Goodbye. [7]

2 - Investigate: How is Maryden, Krem? PC: Krem, I understand you and Maryden are seeing each other? Krem: Uh, yes, Your Worship. I mean, we’ve just started, so… Iron Bull: Oh, come on. Get in there, show her what you can do! Krem: Listen, chief, there’s this thing you may not have learned, growing up Qunari and all…

Dialogue options:

General: Just what I needed to hear. [8]

General: We’re not talking about this. [9]

General (romanced): You really are. [10]

General (romanced): I don’t know about great. [11]

General (Bull is in Romance with Dorian): Let’s ask Dorian! [12]

8 - General: Just what I needed to hear. PC: That’s… good to know, Bull. ㅤㅤ ㅤ 9 - General: We’re not talking about this. PC: Could we not? ㅤㅤ ㅤ Romanced Iron Bull: Oh, sorry, kadan. I mostly meant with other people! PC: Not better, Bull. ㅤㅤ ㅤ 10 - General: You really are. PC: No complaints on my end. Iron Bull: See? ㅤㅤ ㅤ 11 - General: I don’t know about great. PC: Well… Iron Bull: That’s hurtful, kadan. ㅤㅤ ㅤ 12 - General: Let’s ask Dorian! PC: Maybe we should see what Dorian thinks. Iron Bull: We should absolutely see what Dorian thinks.

3 - Investigate: Tell me about these Qunari. PC: What can you tell me about the Qunari we’re dealing with? Iron Bull: These aren’t Ben-Hassrath. They’re specialists, working for a Viddasala. Ben-Hassrath handle normal security. The Viddasala’s people focus entirely on magic. They find it, they study it, they neutralize it. And they must be desperate if they’re using eluvians. I’d expect them to shatter any mirror they find. [back to 1]

4 - Flirt: You ever want to get married? PC: So, Bull, we’ve been together a few years now. You ever think of going… further? Iron Bull: I don’t see how we can top that night we did it with you hanging from the chandelier. PC: I, uh… that’s not really what I… Iron Bull: You’re my kadan. That’s a choice I make every day. I don’t need to be bound to it. But if you like the binding, then when this is over, we’ll make it official, however you like. [back to 1]

5 - General: How are the Chargers? PC: The Chargers have been with the Inquisition for a while now. Is everyone still happy? Krem: No complaints, Your Worship. The Inquisition’s been good to us. We’d disband and join the Inquisition officially, but the chief gets this sad-dog look when we suggest it. Iron Bull: The loyalty is touching, Krem. [back to 1]

6 - General: How is our alliance? PC: If you’ve lost touch with the Ben-Hassrath, what of our alliance? Iron Bull: Well, the last time I heard from them, we were great. You killed Corypheus, sealed the Breach, and closed a ton of rifts. They couldn’t ask for more. This whole operation has to be a mistake. Bring me with you, and we’ll figure it out. I promise. [back to 1]

7 - General: Goodbye. PC: I’ll talk to you later. Iron Bull: Any time, boss.

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

New Romantics | Spencer Reid

Add yourself to my taglist! | Here’s my masterlist!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: After a bad breakup, Reader and her friends go out to party where she meets one young FBI agent. Suddenly, she'd forgotten her ex even existed and was more interested in getting to know the stranger.

Warnings: alcohol use, reader is drunk for half of this, mention of puking, not proofread, it's generally just not really good but it's the best I can do.

Words: 1.4K

It had been ninety-two days to be exact. Ninety-two days of crying into tubs of ice cream, not wanting to admit that it was over and partying non-stop. It was day twenty when her friends had had enough of her wallowing and forced her into a little black dress and heels, and took her out to party. 

Ever since that day, the partying hadn’t quite stopped. 

Her heart had been broken in a thousand pieces, smashed to a pulp and stepped on by one person alone. The one person she once loved but now absolutely loathed. Charlie Denisco. Now the most hated person in her friend group. 

The partying did help a lot with working through the heartbreak. She didn’t know if it was because she wasn’t holed up in her apartment underneath every possible blanket she had or because of the alcohol, but whatever it was; she felt herself slowly healing. 

“We should find you a new love interest,” Sasha, one of her best friends, stated as she hooked an arm of hers with y/n’s. 

Scoffing, y/n shook her head while Lila voiced her thoughts. “This isn’t a romantic comedy, Sash.”

“What if we made it to be?” Sasha shrugged, earning raised eyebrows and glares from her friends. “Come on! Think about it! We’re out, partying, looking hot as shit, most of us single as shit. What if we romanticized our life and pretend we’re in a rom-com? It could be so fun!”

“Okay,” Ella indulged. “If we do this, what’s gonna happen?” 

Sasha’s face lit up, glad her friends were indulging in her delusions. “Okay, so, we’d be The New Romantics, a group of fun-loving twenty-something teenagers who go out to party, on the road to ruin. We play dumb, but we know exactly what we’re doing.” Her friends chuckled. Sasha had clearly thought about this before. 

“Sounds good to me,” y/n mumbled with a shrug, watching as Sasha’s smile widened even more, taking over her entire face. 

“Should we have, like, our own personas?” Florence suggested with a mischievous smirk on her face. 

Her friends’ smiles mirrored hers, all four of them almost excitedly about the idea. On their way to the bar, the girls started thinking up their New Romantics personas. Flo started, seeing that she was the one who came up with the idea. 

“My name is… Paige Gallagher,” she started. “I’m twenty-nine and a kindergarten–no, primary school teacher. And I enjoy talking to men the way I talk to my students.” The girls all burst out laughing at Florence’s idea. 

“Okay, okay,” y/n then giggled. “My turn. I’m Astrid Wright. I’m twenty-eight and I’m a… coffee shop owner. I like to pick up men when they pick up their coffees.” 

And just like that, Paige Gallagher, Astrid Wright, Nadia Hernandez and Taylor Bates were born from the imaginative minds of four best friends who had dubbed themselves the New Romantics that night. It was a lot fun, at first, with each of them flirting with the men at the bar, getting free drinks from each of them. It was all fun and games until y/n found herself all alone with all three of her friends chatting up the people in the bar. 

Suddenly, her heart plummeted at the feeling of being completely left alone. The memories of her and Charlie flooded back in her mind, shattering every last piece of her heart she had so carefully glued together again. Feeling the tears prick her eyes and the ground behind her sink away, she stumbled outside the bar where she crashed onto the floor, sobbing. 

“Woah, hey,” she heard an unfamiliar voice. “Hey, are you okay?” 

She looked up through her tear-filled eyes. Her sight was blurry, but she could make out the outlines of his curls and sharp jawline. “They left me alone,” she cried. “They left me alone but I can’t be alone right now.” 

“Hey, hey, sssh,” he shushed her, hoping it would soothe her violents sobs before offering his lime soda. “Here, drink this,” he said. “We need to get you a little sobered up.” For a moment, he watched her as she gulped the drink, which stopped her crying. “I’m Spencer…” 

“I’m Astrid–” she stopped herself, then shook her head. “No, that’s not right. I’m y/n.” 

Even in her drunk state, she wasn’t going to lie to this guy who was helping her out. She’d been doing that to everyone in the bar, but she didn’t want to do it to him. He seemed genuinely nice. 

“Okay, y/n,” Spencer said and grabbed her upper arms cautiously. “Can you stand? We gotta get you inside. It’s way too cold out here.” The girl nodded her head and let him help her up to her feet. She stumbled ever so slightly in doing so, but Spencer quickly regained his grip and kept her steady.

She didn’t even know where they were going. All she could focus on was his face. From where she was staring up at him from underneath his arm, she had the perfect view of his sharp jawline and adorable nose. A hiccup escaped from her throat as he gently put her down in one of the booths in the back of the bar. 

“Stay here,” he ordered. “I’m gonna get you some water.” Nodding her head, y/n let herself fall back on the bench, much to Spencer’s dismay. Within a second, he was back by her side and helped her up again. “No. No, no. Sit back up, please,” he ordered and forced her to turn so she was sitting with her back against the back of the couch. 

“But I’m so tired,” she whined, but Spencer was already gone. 

It didn’t take Spencer too long to get the girl sober again. A good five glasses of water and some sobering questions did just the trick, something he had learned from taking care of his many drunk friends. But the more sober she became, the more embarrassed she became. 

“I’m so sorry,” she cried out, fresh tears running down her cheeks. 

Spencer reached over and clutched her hand in his. “Hey, no, you don’t have to apologize.” 

“Yes, I do,” she whimpered, her bottom lip quivering. “Because I’m a drunk, blubbering mess and you’re so nice and so pretty and I just– I’m not normally like this.” She hiccuped before taking another sip, missing a light pink dusting Spencer’s cheeks. 

He himself took a sip from his water, debating whether or not to say the next words brewing in his genius brain. “Okay,” he said, more to himself than to her. “Okay, then show me who you normally are. We’re gonna sit here, you’re gonna drink your water and we’re gonna talk until you’re sober enough to go home.” 

And so they did. For hours, the two sat in the booth, chatting about seemingly random stuff while drinking one water after the other. Spencer managed to keep the girl awake to the point where she really had to go to the bathroom, having drunk too much water. 

The bar was pretty much empty at this point. Even her friends had ditched her for the people they’d picked up that night with their ‘personas’. So much for the New Romantics, y/n thought. But she was grateful for Spencer that he wanted to take the time to sober her up and get to know her. 

And it had worked, too. The room wasn’t spinning when she sat on the toilet and she didn’t feel like puking anymore. All good signs that told her she was, in fact, sobering up. 

“I can’t believe my friends just ditched me,” she muttered as she slid back into the booth, rejoining Spencer. “We’d actually pretended to be other people all night long.” 

“Why’s that?” Spencer chuckled. 

“Well,” y/n scoffed and rolled her eyes at how ridiculous it all sounded now. “I’ve just come out of a pretty brutal breakup and they’ve been trying to cheer me up. When we came out tonight, we’d decided to use different personas to try and create some sort of mystique, I guess?” She took another gulp of water. “I don’t know, it sounds stupid.” 

“Did it help you get over your ex?” Spencer then asked, to which y/n nodded. “Then it’s not stupid.” 

As y/n looked into Spencer’s eyes, she noticed the golden specks in his irises and she realized she could see her whole world in them. With just one simple look, one simple smile, he had turned her life upside down. Charlie, who? She had forgotten all about them. That night had felt like a dream. 

“I’m not sure it was that, what made me forget my ex…” 

Everything taglist: @calamitykaty @littlemissaddict @n0wornever @wanniiieeee @unnowhatthisistbh

Criminal Minds Taglist: @boimlers-gonna-boim @samsbirks @tinaasthings @dysphoricsanity @love4lando @elenamoncada-ibarra @r-3dlips @magstheslayer @astess 

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

And I Know It's Sad, But This Is What I Think About

I'll Write Your Name Chapter 4

Roy Kent x Latina!Popstar!Reader

6.2k words

Warnings: Language, brief mentions of alcohol, spoilers for The Great Gatsby

Happy Valentine's Day everyone! Thank you as always to @agentstarkid for being the best and reading all my silly love stories💕

After my third Richmond game, April and I found ourselves once again having dinner with the Greyhounds at Ola’s. This time, Roy Kent and I sat with some of the players, who I was pleased to watch flirt with April; my beautiful assistant and best friend deserved the attention of hot, rich athletes, I decided.

While flirting with professional soccer players seemed to come easy to April, it felt like Roy and I were still figuring out how to flirt with each other. We sat close enough that our shoulders were touching, I flashed him plenty of coy smiles, and he made a point to whisper in my ear every now and then- although it was usually something like “Can I fucking leave now?” But still, if we were going to convince people that this was real, we’d probably have to step things up soon.

I remembered something Keeley had texted me the day before- we needed another date, and soon.

“What’re you doing tomorrow?” I murmured, loud enough for only Kent to hear.

He grunted and shifted in his seat. “Why?” After I simply narrowed my eyes at him, he sighed. “Keeley texted you too, hmm?” He sighed, shoveling another bite into his mouth. “What were you thinking?”

I thought for a moment, trying to avoid something simple like dinner, where we’d have to talk to each other and act like two people who were interested in each other. “Want to go on a picnic? We could bring a couple of books. Wouldn’t have to say a word to each other.”

Roy blinked, clearly processing what I’d just said; I could practically hear gears whirring before he finally spoke. “Sounds fucking perfect.”

Satisfied that I’d done my part, I turned my attention back to my delicious meal; if I got nothing else out of this fake relationship, at least I’d be well-fed for the next few months.

“Hey there!” Keeley Jones plopped down on my other side, smiling broadly at me.

Suddenly very aware of the eyes of the team on me, the way they’d been the night I “met” Keeley the first time I visited Ola’s, I returned her smile with one of my own, going so far as to playfully bump her shoulder with mine.

“Thank you again for inviting us to sit with you and Rebecca,” I gushed, and I really meant it; if I was going to be hanging out at Nelson Road, it was nice to do so in a comfortable suite with champagne in my hand. “It was actually really fun.”

Keeley’s smile widened; it was warm and friendly and genuine, making it obvious why everyone seemed to adore her. “I’m so glad you enjoyed yourself! We’ll have to get you a Kent kit now, eh? I’ve got an old one you could have if you like.”

I swore Roy stiffened next to me. “That’s alright,” I assured her. “I think April was going to order one for me to wear to their next game.” I turned to Roy with a shrug. “Gotta look the part, right?”

Roy mumbled something about getting another beer and stood, pausing only to briefly touch my shoulder; I ignored how warm his touch was. Once he was gone, I turned my attention back to Keeley, whose eyes were following Roy with something that looked a lot like pity.

“How’re you two getting on?” she asked in a low voice, scooching closer.

The only response that felt right was a shrug. “It’s fine,” I murmured. “Definitely working on getting used to each other. Going from complete strangers to dating is… a unique way of getting to know someone.” She seemed to be waiting for me to continue, so I added, “We’re going on a picnic tomorrow. I told him we could bring a couple books, that way we don’t have to just stare at each other the whole time.”

The corner of Keeley’s mouth tugged upwards knowingly. “Now that is a perfect idea,” she said, eyes shifting back to Roy as he approached, beer in hand. “Absolutely perfect.”

~

“How’s here?”

Roy grunted in response and dropped the picnic basket to the ground. Ten minutes felt like far too long to look for the “perfect” picnic spot, but Keeley had been kind of specific; it needed to be a public enough spot that they would be seen, but secluded enough that it didn’t look like they were trying to be seen.

He was beginning to wish they’d just gone to the pub again; at least then he could have a pint.

Instead, he helped spread out the blanket they’d brought with them and opened up the picnic basket, the one Keeley had dropped off at his house early that morning and that his date- when the fuck would he have to start saying girlfriend?- had loaded with lunch and snacks. He couldn’t help but wonder what kind of food she’d packed. Probably something trendy and vegan-y. Was she a vegan? Roy didn’t fucking know. But she was young and trendy and pretty and-

“Here.” She shoved something wrapped in white paper into his hands. “Should we eat first?”

Roy gingerly unwrapped the bundle, immediately recognizing its contents. “Is this a fucking kebab?”

She shrugged, already chomping on a bite of her own kebab. “Yeah. That a problem?”

Ignoring the annoyance in her voice, Roy took a bite; fuck, he’d know that flavor anywhere. “Where’d you get this?”

“That kebab place you like.” Her tone was casual, as if it didn’t matter. “I asked Keeley what you like, she sent me the address.” After eating another bite, she shrugged. “The owner asked me to bring in a headshot next time, said he’d give me free kebabs for life.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Roy’s grip tightened on his kebab; he ate there at least once a week and still was never given so much as a discount. But she goes in once and gets kebabs for life? Fucking hell. Well, at least he’d get to take advantage for the next few months. Maybe he would benefit from this charade after all.

Still munching on her kebab, she reached into the bag she’d brought and pulled out a book, settling herself into a comfortable position before opening it. Roy took the hint and grabbed his own book out of the picnic basket, a murder mystery his sister had given him for his birthday. He glanced up over the top of his book to get a glimpse of what she was reading.

“The Great Gatsby?” he asked, raising his thick eyebrows.

She nodded, her gaze still on her book. “It’s my favorite,” she said simply. After a moment, her eyes flickered up to meet Roy’s. “I try to read it every year.”

Not sure why he was still talking, Roy sat up a little straighter. “Every year? I mean, yeah, it’s a fucking good book, but why would you read it every fucking year?”

“It’s… familiar.” She set the book down, now fully looking at Roy. “Everyone is desperate to be at Gatsby’s parties, to be surrounded by his wealth and glamor, to drink his booze and enjoy his hospitality.” She frowned, eyes flittering back to the book. “But then only a handful of people attend his funeral. Once the party is over, no one cares about him anymore.” She looked back at Roy. “That’s going to be me, isn’t it?”

Roy was speechless. Something about the softness in her eyes was so familiar, almost like looking in a mirror. That’s going to be me, isn’t it? How many times had Roy mumbled something just as cynical and broken? How many people- reporters, women, friends, even family- had stopped calling once he slowed down? How many more once he stepped off the field for the last time? In her eyes Roy could see the same dejection and fear of loneliness that had nestled itself inside Roy’s chest these last few years. It was something hard to explain, something one could only understand if they’d felt it deep in their souls. And it seemed to be something they both shared.

But instead of admitting to understanding how she felt and allowing her to glimpse behind his scowls and hard expressions, Roy simply shifted on the blanket and bit off his lunch. “Fucking hell. Are you always some fucking tortured poet, sunshine?”

Her face faltered for only a fraction of a second, but it was long enough for Roy to want to kick himself for ruining the moment. She quickly recovered, picking her book back up and burying herself back into Jay Gatsby’s empty affluence. “Read your fucking book, Kent,” she mumbled, flipping a page absently. “There’s a photographer in those bushes.”

Sure enough, when Roy glanced around out of the corner of his eye, he could just make out the familiar sight of a camera lens.

~

“So, how’s it going with Roy Kent?”

Lanie looked perky as we sat in her office. My guard was immediately up; a perky publicist was never a good sign, I’d learned. It usually meant they had something rotten to tell you.

Anticipating whatever it was, I slouched into my seat, ready to narrow my eyes or scowl at a moment’s notice. “It’s fine,” I mumbled. “Keeley Jones said our picnic date got a lot of positive attention, and she said the Greyhounds’ viewership has skyrocketed since I started attending matches. So, it looks like we’re doing our jobs pretty well. Is my press looking good?”

Lanie nodded, eyes on her phone. “Good, good,” she said absently, as if she wasn’t really listening.

“Lanie?” I called.

She looked back up at me. “Well, with the Roy Kent stuff, you’ve got plenty of attention, and it looks like people are excited to see you in a new relationship, especially with someone who looks like him.” She ignored the way I wrinkled my nose. “But, uh, this morning I got wind of something that might take a little attention away from you and Roy.” She handed me her phone with a grimace.

The photo was kind of blurry, but I knew the two figures immediately. Everett- my most recent ex- nuzzling close to Cameron, the woman who had once called herself my best friend until she found out that a boyfriend of hers hit on me. Even though I had clearly rebuffed him and told Cam right away, she very publicly ended our friendship and even more publicly accused me of trying to steal her man. And now, irony of ironies, there she was, attached to my ex-boyfriend like the leech Lanie had always warned me she was.

“Lovely,” I finally snorted, gingerly handing the phone back to Lanie. “Do we think it’s real or just for attention? I know Cam’s new show starts filming soon.”

Lanie rolled her eyes. “Please, they’re not clever enough to pull off something calculated. If anything, he’s trying to make you jealous and she’s trying to get revenge on you. Idiots.” She sighed and dropped her phone onto the coffee table. “But, of course, your name’s being dragged into it. The phrase ‘love triangle’ has been trending on Twitter all morning.”

“Gross.”

“Agreed.” Lanie rolled her neck, something she often did when she was stressed. “I’ve been on the phone with Keeley this morning, and we both agree it’s time to step things up with you and Roy. Go public, make things official. Attend an event together that’s not a Richmond dinner.”

How much further could I slouch before I ended up lying down on the couch? “What event did you guys have in mind?”

“Your annual fabulous karaoke party!”

Keeley Jones strutted into the office with Roy right behind her. She greeted Lanie and I each with friendly hugs and kisses on cheeks; Roy, on the other hand, opted for short nods to each of us. Lanie stood and motioned for Roy to take her seat beside me; we shuffled awkwardly to ensure our knees wouldn’t bump.

Once we were all settled, I turned to Keeley, who now stood next to Lanie. “My karaoke party?” I echoed, feeling my stomach churn.

The “party” was the main fundraiser I threw every year for my nonprofit back home; it was near and dear to my heart, incredibly personal, and my favorite night of the year.

And now I’d have to share it with Roy Kent.

Sensing my unease, Lanie smiled at me, one of her reassuring smiles, the kind she always had for me after a bad bit of press. “It’ll be great publicity,” she pointed out. “You’ll probably raise even more than you did last year. Can you imagine how many people will register for the livestream? Especially if he sings,” she added, pointing at Roy.

“Sing?” the manager practically spat. “I have to sing at this party?”

With a sigh that even I knew was overdramatic, I turned to look at him, taking in his scowl and furrowed brow. “It’s a karaoke party,” I explained slowly, remembering how condescending he’d been the very first time we’d spoken in front of the elevator at Keeley’s office. “People pay a pretty penny for a ticket, there’s a paid livestream of all the singing, and I always release a new song, with all the proceeds going to my nonprofit. It’s… kind of a big deal.”

When Roy frowned, I could practically see the gears turning in his head as he processed this new information. After a moment of silence, he opened his mouth. “You should invite some of the guys. They’d definitely fucking sing.”

Keeley bounced happily at Roy’s suggestion. “That would be perfect! And it would really show the two of you becoming part of each other’s worlds too.” She quickly tapped at her phone, somehow lighting up even brighter. “And it’s a bye week for them!” She shot me a wink. “Looks like the universe is really lining things up for us, hmm?”

All I could do was smile weakly, my mind spinning from learning about my ex-boyfriend and ex-friend becoming an item and finding out that I’d have to spend my favorite night of the year with a man who had barely glanced at me since that night we played darts together. I made up my mind to ask Lanie if my reputation really needed this much help or if she, as usual, was overreacting. Just as soon as Roy and Keeley left, I decided. Surely, with the numbers my upcoming tour sales was doing, along with the amount of people already signed up for the fundraiser’s livestream, and with all this social media attention, could dating a former soccer star turned grumpy coach really help that much?

“Oi, sunshine, your place or mine?”

Sunshine. Roy’s gruff use of the name he’d mumbled during our picnic had me snapping back to attention, out of my planned objections to my publicist. I stared at Roy blankly, trying to imagine what in the hell I’d missed that had him prompting what I thought he might be prompting- especially in front of his ex-girlfriend.

“She was zoning out,” Lanie quickly explained as she threw an M&M at me, her usual way of bringing me back to attention. “We want you two to have a sleepover,” she said loudly, as if she was repeating herself- which she probably was. “Something simple and domestic. Something you can post on your socials so continue this little soft launch. Something to help make things believable.”  

Roy nodded. “Keeley says just being seen in public isn’t enough to make it seem real. We’ve got to really sell this shit.” He scowled at me. “So, your place or mine?”

Okay, so that made a lot more sense than what I’d feared he was asking me. “My place,” I said, clearing my throat. “You can come over to my place.”

~

Roy let out a low growl as he pulled up to the front gate of the address on his phone. He quickly punched in the gate code she’d sent him, relieved he didn’t have to call her to let him in, and drove up the short driveway.

Her house wasn’t what he’d imagined; with the money he- and the rest of the world- knew she was worth, Roy’d figured she lived in a fucking castle or some modern monstrosity. Instead, he walked in the moonlight to the door of a sweet two-story house, blinking as he read the doormat that declared “There’s no place like home”. He heaved his duffel bag over his shoulder and sharply knocked on the door, sucking his breath between his teeth. Another step in this weird, weird fucking situation he found himself in.

When the door opened, Roy instinctively took a step back, forcing himself to look her in the eye. She nodded curtly to him, gesturing for him to enter the house. “Kent,” was her simple greeting.

He returned the curt reception with a grunt of his own and followed her inside and into her sitting room, marveling at how the house did not match his expectations. He’d figured it would be something like Keeley’s place, all bright and pink and stylish with fluffy pillows everywhere. But everything was simple and cozy, and there were a lot more photos than he expected. Her family, he assumed, as his eyes lingered on a photo of her with a couple of pre-teen kids. In one corner was a piano, one he figured she used a lot, and one wall was completely covered with a bookshelf, which housed a large and clearly well-used library. It reminded Roy a bit of his own place if he was being honest. Simple, homey, and probably a refuge from a life lived in the public eye.

Before he could ask about the framed drawing that was clearly done by a child around Pheobe’s age, something brushed against Roy’s leg. “What the fuck?” he bellowed, looking down to see a cat staring back up at him.

“That’s Sydney,” his host explained, picking up the animal. “Syd, say hi to Roy.” She kissed the top of the cat’s head. “Apparently we need to get used to him,” she stage-whispered into the cat’s fur.

Roy snorted as he focused his gaze on the cat. He could almost appreciate the sarcasm in her voice- almost. Instead, he gestured to his duffel bag. “Where can I set this down? Are you sticking me in the backyard, or do I have to sleep in my car?”

With something resembling a smirk on her lips, she set the cat down and once again beckoned for Roy to follow her. “I’ve got a guest room,” she assured him as she led him down the hall. She let Roy enter the room alone, choosing to linger in the hallway and watch him drop his bag to the floor. She cleared her throat as the cat- Sydney- caught up with them. “I ordered a pizza,” she mumbled, shifting her weight. “We could, I don’t fucking know, watch a movie or something until, well...”

Right. Fucking sleepover. “Yeah, sounds fine,” Roy muttered, staring at the cat. He’d probably spend most of his night looking at the animal, he realized. “I’m just gonna… throw on some fucking sweats. If that’s alright.”

She nodded, her cool demeanor reappearing. “Do your thing,” she said airily. “Let me know if you need anything.” After giving Roy a firm, businesslike nod, she was gone.

With a shake of his head, Roy quickly threw on some sweats and a t-shirt, trying not to put too much thought into what the evening ahead held. Was this really necessary? Did the other fake couples Keeley knew- which she assured him was quite a few- have to go to such lengths? Knowing Keeley, she was probably just trying to push Roy’s buttons, see how far she could take this shit before Roy snapped.

But again, he was trying to prove to her that he was willing to go above and beyond for her. Anything for Keeley, he reminded himself as he trudged back into the sitting room.

He plopped himself down on the couch, where Sydney the Cat was already perched and watching Roy with narrowed cat eyes. Jamie had once compared Roy to a cat during a team dinner, he remembered. Not very social, easy to annoy, but incredibly loyal and affectionate once they decided to let someone in. Keeley had found the comparison hilarious and proceeded to call Roy “Fluffy” for the rest of the night. He chuckled to himself at the memory; he should send Keeley a picture of Sydney and let her know he remembered the joke. He always remembered Keeley’s jokes.

As he reached for his mobile, a voice came from the direction of what he assumed was the kitchen. “You eat pepperoni, right? I forgot to ask.”

The most glamorous popstar in the world strolled back into the sitting room holding a cardboard box in her hands with two bottles of beer balanced on top. Instead of her usual dresses or fashionable outfits Roy and the rest of the world was used to seeing her in, she wore a particularly tiny pair of sleep shorts and a Greyhounds sweatshirt- the one Roy had seen her wear to their matches lately.

Roy wasn’t blind. He knew she was a stunning woman, whether she was on an album cover or, apparently, in her pyjamas. And if he’d bothered to give the matter even two seconds of thought, he would’ve noted that he rather liked her figure, especially when she looked so comfortable and domestic. But Roy couldn’t think about that. Not when he heard Keeley’s name come out of her mouth.

“Keeley said to make sure we both post on our socials,” she was saying, either missing or ignoring the way Roy’s eyes lingered for a moment too long on her bare legs. “Why I couldn’t just send you something to post is beyond me.” She set the pizza down on the coffee table and plopped onto the couch, a respectable distance from Roy’s spot. “Like, is you coming over really, truly necessary?”

Roy snorted and made himself busy with a beer. “I was thinking the same thing,” he admitted. “But Keeley’s always got a method to her fucking madness. You learn to just fucking go with it.” Deciding he needed to look at something that wasn’t the way she was stretching out comfortably on her couch, Roy stood abruptly and meandered over to her bookshelf. “You read a lot?” he said, scanning her collection more closely now.

“When I can,” came her breezy answer. “I’d love to say I’ve read everything on that shelf, but that’s mostly a collection of books I want to read.”

“Maybe we can do more reading dates.” Roy didn’t know what the fuck made him say that; it just slipped out as he stared at a particularly worn copy of The Bell Jar. When he glanced over his shoulder, he was surprised to see a smile on her face.

She shrugged and sipped her own beer. “Sure, Kent. Sounds good.”

Ignoring whatever feeling was forming in his chest, Roy returned to the shelf, recognizing some names and finding himself curious about others. Finally, he spotted a stack of games on the bottom shelf. He noted that there were about four versions of the same game. “You like Scrabble?” he blurted out, desperate to put distance between himself and his picnic suggestion.

“Love it,” she laughed. “When my parents came to the States from Mexico, they were each pretty young and worked really hard to learn English. They wanted to make sure all of their kids were fluent in English, so in our house we were always reading and playing games like Scrabble.” Her smile became a smirk. “My youngest brother refuses to play with me anymore because I kind of win a lot.”

The competitive streak that made Roy a football legend started to bubble up in his chest. “That so?” He picked up one of the boxes and brought it over to the coffee table. “Let’s see, then.”

~

“You can’t put that word!” I cackled, throwing my head back when I saw the word Roy was putting on the board.

Roy smirked and put the ‘C’ down with finality. “I absolutely fucking can. And I did so…” He shrugged. “Gimme my points, sunshine.”

After updating Roy’s score, I snapped a photo of the board. “That’s going on Instagram,” I warned him with a smirk. I quickly shared the picture and put my phone down, trusting that Lanie would text me later about the post blowing up.

We finished one game, then another, and started a third. We didn’t talk much, but it didn’t feel as awkward as those first few dinners with the Greyhounds. Sydney laid close to Roy, clearly already used to him, and I couldn’t deny the warm feeling in my chest when I saw him absently stroke her fur between turns. Maybe we’ll be friends, I thought fondly as I put down the tiles for my latest turn. Real, actual friends.

“Calamitous?” Roy read, wrinkling his nose. “What the fuck is calamitous? Is that even a word?”

I smirked and sipped my beer. “It absolutely is!” I stood and strolled over to my bookshelf, returning with the Scrabble dictionary my sister had given me a couple years ago. “Look it up.”

After shooting me a suspicious look, Roy flipped through the book; his scowl told me he had indeed found calamitous.

“It’s a good word,” I said as I sat back down. “One of my favorites. I’ve just been waiting for the right time to put it in a song.”

His gaze turned thoughtful as he stared at his letter tiles. “You written anything lately?” Before I could answer, he opened his mouth again. “You said something about a song for your fundraiser thing. It’s a new one, right?”

I nodded, squirming a bit as I thought about the song, one I’d been pouring a lot of myself into. “Yeah. I always release a new song after the party.” My eyes fell so Sydney, curled up close to Roy. “Want to hear a bit?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

His almost silly answer was enough to get me to my feet and retrieving my guitar from the extra room I often worked in. When I came back, Roy sat up straight, his gaze trained on my guitar as I settled on the couch.

“It’s called ‘Nothing New’,” I explained as I began to strum my guitar. “Here’s the chorus.”

Lord, what will become of me

Once I've lost my novelty?

I've had too much to drink tonight

And I know it's sad, but this is what I think about

And I wake up in the middle of the night

It's like I can feel time moving

How can a person know everything at 18 but nothing at 22?

And will you still want me when I'm nothing new?

When I finally looked at Roy, his mouth was agape, and he was blinking rapidly.

“Fucking hell,” he whispered. “That’s good. That’s really fucking good.” He shook his head. “Reminds me of that shit you said the other day, about Gatsby and funerals and all that.” He sighed, a heavy, sad sound, and his voice was almost impossible to hear. “Fucking reminds me of me.”

I didn’t know what to say to that; I vaguely knew the story of Roy’s injury, the one that ended his career, and Dani had said something about it taking a while for Roy to find his way back to Richmond after his retirement. But I didn’t think Roy was the kind of person who liked to talk about anything, let alone what was probably the worst time in his life. So instead, I watched him stare stonily at my silent guitar, not saying a word when he stood abruptly, something I was quickly getting used to seeing.

“I should fucking sleep,” he mumbled, taking care to grab a couple of empty bottles. “Gotta be out of here early for training. Thanks for the pizza. And the beer.” He nodded to my guitar. “And the song.” After nudging Sydney gently with his foot, Roy turned on his heel and disappeared into the kitchen; I didn’t move from my spot until I heard the guest room door shut with finality.

~

~

Roy sighed as he sat down in front of the assembled reporters, all waiting to pounce on him after a hard-earned Greyhound victory. As always, Keeley stood in the back of the room, an encouraging smile on her face, the kind of smile that always gave Roy the strength to tackle what was probably his least favorite part of the job.

He answered several questions about the match- probably one of their best of the season, if he was being honest with himself- before the topic he was dreading finally reared its head.

“Coach Kent,” some wanker from a publication Roy couldn’t be bothered to remember called out, “care to say anything about the rumors concerning your latest fling?”

Instinctively, Roy bared his teeth and squared his shoulders before leaning forward, ready to growl out, “No.” However, a raised eyebrow from Keeley had him taking a deep breath; she’d trained him for this, he reminded himself. He knew what he was supposed to say. “We’re just… spending time together,” he said, trying to keep his voice light. “It’s been… nice, getting to know each other.” When he looked at Keeley, she was giving him a big thumbs up; it was enough to have him continue. “She’s different than I expected,” he added, nodding more to himself than anyone else.

“How’d you two meet?”

He coughed into his hand; he knew how to answer this, too. “She’s good friends with Dani Rojas,” he explained, wondering if it sounded as rehearsed as it felt. “So, she came to a match and then came out with the team afterwards. We danced a little, and then she gave me her phone number.” Again, Keeley smiled encouragingly. “It’s been kind of fucking cool, having her at our matches. She’s really embraced the Richmond way.” That last bit was something Keeley had come up with; normally, Roy would think it sounded incredibly lame and positively cheesy. But, since Keeley was the mastermind, he didn’t complain one bit.

Another reporter spoke up. “Will you be at her upcoming fundraiser? The karaoke party is legendary.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” Roy answered with what he hoped was a good-natured smirk. “Get enough drinks in me, I might even fucking sing.” For a brief moment, the chuckles that filled the room reminded Roy of how this room sounded when Ted was there; he hadn’t realized he actually missed that sound.

“Have you heard her new song?” The voice was hopeful, as if Roy was about to give everyone a big scoop, let the sports reporters have something the gossip columnists would kill for.

For the first time since the press conference began, Roy’s smile was real. “I’ve heard a little,” he admitted. “And I won’t tell you a fucking thing, except that it’s fucking brilliant.”

Roy maneuvered around a few more questions- Would she be attending more Richmond matches?  (“Hopefully.”) Would Roy be going to any of the shows during her upcoming tour. (“We’ll see.”) Who won their Scrabble tournament? (“No fucking comment.”)- before he was finally set free. He and Keeley reconvened in his office, making sure no one else was around before assessing how Roy’s first official acknowledgement of the “relationship” had gone.

“You did a great job,” Keeley assured him from her perch on the edge of his desk, a spot she’d taken countless times. “Might be the most charming I’ve ever seen you at a presser, Roy. Looks like she’s really rubbing off on you.” Her wink had Roy’s insides squirming. “Did you really hear the song already?”

“Yeah,” Roy mumbled, slouching in his seat. “She played some for me the other night, during our sleepover.” He surprised even himself by not rolling his eyes at the word sleepover. “It’s fucking sad,” he continued, completely unprompted. “But really beautiful. Nothing like the fluffy stuff you hear on the radio.”

Keeley gently tossed a stray paperclip at Roy. “Oi, I like her fluffy stuff! And so does Phoebe, I might add.” Her smile widened. “Your niece wants to know when you’re introducing her to your girlfriend, by the way. It’s all she talked about at our last Pheebs and Keels Day.”

Roy shook his head. “Oh no,” he scoffed, folding his arms. “Not fucking happening. Last thing I need is for her to get attached. Look what happened with-”

Fuck.

The smile disappeared from Keeley’s face. “Right,” she said quietly, looking down at her hands. “Yeah, might not be the best idea, eh?” After a moment, she perked up again, reigniting the energy in the room. “Have you two kissed yet?”

“What the fuck Keeley?” Roy hissed, looking around the obviously empty office; she’d sure recovered quickly from the awkward moment he’d caused.

She shrugged, clearly unfazed. “You’re officially together and are starting to go out in public as a couple. It’ll look funny if you don’t start being affectionate soon. I figured maybe you two’d gotten it out of the way already, so your first kiss isn’t in front of the cameras."

Shit. Roy hadn’t even started to think about how they’d act now that things were “official”. Had she?

“Don’t fucking worry about it,” Roy mumbled, wondering why he was blushing so furiously. “I’m a forty-year-old man, Keeley. I know how to kiss a woman.”

“Yeah, but she’s not just any woman,” Keeley pointed out as she stood. “Just something to think about.” She paused, studying Roy’s face carefully. “You really did do a good job in there, Roy. I almost believed you for a second, smiling and blushing as you gushed about that gorgeous girl.” Her smile returned, completely full of mischief. “Anything you want to share?”

Roy narrowed his eyes at his ex and threw the paper clip she’d tossed at him earlier. “Fuck off, Keeley,” was all he managed before the giggling blonde strutted out of the office. He looked down at his phone to check where the guys would be going after the match; after all, he was expected to be there with-

“Hey there!”

Roy looked up at the sound of Keeley’s cheery voice. His “girlfriend” came into view, smiling tightly at Keeley as they squeezed by each other through the doorway. The popstar saluted as she entered the office.

“Hey, Kent,” she hummed, pausing by the door and leaning against the frame. “I was thinking, want to ride to the restaurant together?”

He heard what she said. He knew he had. But the only thing he could focus on was her mouth, the same mouth that had left lipstick marks on his cheek and had formed a smile when she won two Scrabble games in a row. The same mouth he’d have to kiss soon. He’d kissed plenty of women; hell, he’d more than kissed plenty of women. And those were kisses he’d actually meant.

So why the fuck did his palms feel sweaty at the thought of fake-kissing this woman?

“Kent? Kent?”

Oh fucking hell, she’d caught him staring.

Roy cleared his throat and stood up, pocketing his mobile. “Alright, yeah. Let’s go.”

She narrowed her eyes at him as they walked out of the office. “You alright?”

“Yeah. I’m fucking fine.” Roy’s hand balled into a fist at his side as he fought the urge to clear his throat again.

“Okay then.” They walked silently down the hall, looking nothing at all like a couple in love. Finally, she bumped him with her shoulder. “Saw your press conference,” she said, her voice light and teasing.

Roy nodded, wondering if his face looked as warm as it felt. “What’d you think?”

When he glanced at her, she was staring straight ahead- and smiling. “You told them you liked the song.” Her voice could only be described as pleased.

“Well, yeah,” Roy mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s the truth. It’s… it’s really fucking good. I can’t wait to hear the rest.”

She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again. Finally, she looked at him, her face serious now. “Hey, there’s some reporters hanging around outside. D’you think we should hold hands or something?”

Roy’s eyes flickered down to her outstretched hand before returning to her face; she gazed at him with raised eyebrows, waiting for his answer.

“Probably a good idea,” he murmured. With that, he took her hand in his, giving it a small squeeze as they walked out of the Dog Track.

He kept her hand in his as they walked through the parking lot; while his eyes stayed trained on his giant black car, she smiled sweetly at the couple of reporters who called their names and even offered a small wave in their direction. Roy held her door open and helped her climb inside, closing the door once she was settled. Once he was in the driver’s seat, he resisted the urge to grab her hand; old habit from dating Keeley, he told himself.

Still, he couldn’t help but wonder why his hand felt so cold without her fingers intertwined with his.

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[vanfleeter]

Black Smoke: Chapter 6 - L'Amour En France Part II

Characters: Jake Kiszka x Fem!Reader Warnings: 18+, not for minors. Smut. Public sex (sort of). Penetrative sex. Fingering. Angst. Jealousy. Allusions to death. (as always if I miss anything, please let me know so I can add it.) A/N: Been a while since I updated this series, but inspiration struck when I was rereading this chapter.

Need a refresher or haven't read it? -> Black Smoke Masterlist

Jake is glad this is the last day of this photoshoot with Charles. For the past two days, including today, he has to act professional while Charles makes googly eyes at you. Constantly looking at you. His eyes very rarely are focused towards the camera. It made Jake’s blood boil. The man is married. You are his girlfriend. Not Charles. His.

Even his snide remarks to you made him angry. He’s hitting on you. Right in front of Jake. But he can’t mess this up. If he completes this job with Charles, it can set him up for even more huge clients. But oh does he so badly want to slug him.

The winking and the flirting. That was enough to even make you uncomfortable. But you were there for Jake, to support him. If the two of you can make it through the rest of this final day then Charles will be jetting off to god knows where, not that either of you care anyways.

“I feel like I’m competing for you,” Jake says before chugging half of his bottle of water. “If he wasn’t a client, I’d hit him.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” You say, rubbing your hands up and down the structure of his arms. “And besides, there is no competition. In my eyes, you’ve already won.. You always will.” You stand on your tip toes and give him a kiss.

“I’d size him up, but I’m afraid he’s bigger than me.”

“Hmm, no..” You slide your hand down his front and palm him gently through his pants. “You’re definitely bigger.” He chuckles and leans down to kiss you again. “Now, you go back in there and finish your job. Only a few more hours and he will be gone and we can finally have all the alone time we want without worrying about him lurking around every corner.” You gently rotate your wrist, still cupping him in your palm. He groans and grips onto your hips. “You promised me that we’d do it in the vineyard and I am going to hold you to it.”

His breathing becomes labored and he pushes you against the wall. “If I wasn’t in the middle of this shoot, I’d fuck you right here. Make him know exactly who you belong to.”

A knock comes on the door and he pulls away from you. “Mr. Kiszka, he’s back.” A voice calls through the door.

“Wonderful,” Jake responds with malice dripping on his voice. “Tell him I'll be right out.” He pulls you in for quite the passionate kiss before pulling away to adjust himself inside his pants. “Do me a favor, love. Go on upstairs and get yourself comfortable because in about thirty minutes, I am going to fuck you until every single person within a twenty mile radius can hear you. Then everyone will know that you belong to me.”

You can feel the arousal beginning to drip between your legs. He catches you clenching your thighs together and he chuckles.

“Don’t even think about it. Now go.” He says shooing you off towards the door. Once you are gone from the room, he straightens his shirt and reaches for his camera before making his way back out to the makeshift studio space. “Alright, Charles. Ready to wrap this up?”

–

Rushing up the staircase and reaching the second floor, Jake hurriedly makes his way down the hallway towards the suite. Charles is finally gone and he can finally relax without worrying that he might try something with you.

Pushing down the door handle and nudging the door open, Jake steps into the room and shuts the door behind him. He was expecting you to be waiting for him in the bed, all ready and wet. But instead he finds you passed out on top of the covers with light snores falling from your lips. He chuckles and crosses the room to kneel on the bed. He hovers over top of you and leans his head down to kiss your cheek.

“Mmm..” You hum. Your eyes flutter open and slowly lock in on his face. “I totally fell asleep..”

He smiles and kisses you again. “Does this mean you’re too tired to make love with me?” He nuzzles his face into the side of your neck and presses his lips against your skin.

“I am never too tired..” You smile. He hums a chuckle against your skin before pulling away and dragging you with him.

“Well.. Lucky for us, the staff and grounds people have gone home for the night which means…” He pulls you towards the door and yanks it open. “Vineyard sex.” He wags his eyebrows and drags you down the hallway and down the back stairwell that leads out to the courtyard.

Running down the rows of vines, he pulls you down a random one as he pulls you against his body and kisses you. Pulling away and turning you around, he pinches the zipper of your dress between his thumb and index finger and drags it down your back and lets your dress fall down and pool around your feet..

He slips off his jacket and unbuttons his shirt. He drops that to the ground and works on undoing his belt while you leave kisses on his neck. Shoving his pants down, you glance down to find that he chose to go commando today. His cock is already hard and leaking a little precum.

Laying you down on the ground, he presses his body against you and ruts himself into your center. “I’ll be honest with you, love, I wanted to punch Charles for the way he looked at you.”

“Aw, was Jakey a little jealous?” You say as you lift up your right leg to rest on his hip.

You feel the sting of his palm as he slaps your ass cheek. “I don’t like it when other men look at you.”

“Mmm, and what about the man who owns my half naked portrait?”

Jake chuckles and shakes his head. “He can’t touch you…” He runs his hand up the curve of your hip and over your torso before groping your breast in his palm. “Only I can.” He massages your breast in his hand before pulling back and leaning down to suck on your nipple. A moan slips past your mouth and your fingers tangle into his wavy locks.

Moving away, he reaches between you two and strokes his length a few times before lining himself up with your entrance and slowly pushing inside. There wasn’t a doubt in either of your minds that if there were ground people around, they would have heard you moaning as he guided himself inside of you.

“You.. Are.. Mine..” He says with each rough thrust. “Right baby?”

“Y-Yes.. Jake.. Fuck!”

Wrapping your legs tighter around his waist, you push your hips upwards and your walls clench around his cock. He groans, digging his feet into the grass and pushing his cock deeper.

“Oh fuck.. I’m gonna..” He moans, gripping the blades of grass in his hand, his nails digging into the dirt.

“I’m right there, Jake..” You’re sure that you’re leaving bloody scratches down his back as you both dive heart first into your orgasms.

–

“It’s too bad that no one was around to hear me fucking you..” He says as he feeds you grapes that he stole from one of the vines. Setting the bushel off to the side, he leans over and kisses you. The taste of the grapes linger on your lips and he devours it all. He moans against your lips for slipping his tongue out to glide over your swollen lips.

You feel his hand trail down the valley of your breasts and over your stomach before coming to a stop over your center. In slow, languid circles, he rubs your still sensitive clit. You can’t help but push your hips upwards so you can grind against his hand, adding any friction you can to relieve the growing ache between your legs. He pushes you back down and applies more pressure, all while his eyes stay completely focused on your face.

Oh how he loves to watch your face bunch up and twist as he brings pleasure upon your body. He fantasizes framing it in and keeping it in his office to use for when he needs to relieve himself when you aren’t around. Imagining it is different than seeing it with his own eyes.

Dipping his fingers into your entrance, he teases you just a little before sliding his fingers inside. You moan quite loudly and your hands fly to his arm.

“Fuck.. Jake..” Your fingers start digging into his forearm as he accelerates the speed of his fingers, pumping them in and out of you and dragging the pads of his fingers along your walls as he does so.

His cock is steadily growing hard with every pump of his fingers. To give himself some friction of his own, he grinds himself against your side. He feels you clenching around his fingers. You’re getting close. You both are. He hooks his leg around yours and spreads your legs further apart as he keeps bunny fucking himself against your side.

He buries his face against your head, his breathy moans infiltrating your ear as he brings himself and you one step closer to another orgasm.

Soon you’re crying out his name as you begin to fall into your orgasm. As your own warm release coats his fingers, his own is spurting across your stomach. A string of obscenities grace your ears as he rides out his own orgasm and is still grinding against your side.

You both lie there for a few minutes, working yourselves back into a normal state.

Once he’s calmed down, he reaches off to the side and grabs his shirt and wipes your stomach clean of his release before cleaning in between your legs. Reaching down he grabs his suit jacket and pulls it back up to cover both of your lower halves.

“You okay?” He says, noting your still heaving chest.

You nod your head before turning to look at him. A lazy smile spreads across his face and he leans down to peck your lips. Suddenly he’s moving away from you and reaching for his clothes.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“Come on, get dressed.” He says as grabs your dress.

He helps you get dressed and leads you back through the rows of grapevines before coming out on the other side in front of the wine cellar. “Let’s give ourselves a tour,” He says as he pulls open the entrance door.

And that you did.

While the two of you skimmed the different areas of the cellar, trying the different wines, and reading how each one was made, Jake captured candids with his phone. Just more photographs to eventually add to his gallery.

You can tell that he’s getting a little buzzed. His fingers lightly graze over your hips as you read how the oldest wine made on the property dates back to the late 1700s. The process of pressing it and producing it never changes, despite the many hands this place has gone through. His breath blows over your neck and his fingers begin to softly walk up the curve of your hips and up your waist causing goosebumps to flair up on your skin. He reaches in front of you and sets his wine glass on the ledge followed by yours.

“Jake..” You warn.

“Yes?” He sings as he moves your hair and flips it over your shoulder so he has access to the back of your neck. You feel his lips connect with your neck which shoots a tingle down your spin.

“Let’s enjoy the wine..”

“I am..” He giggles. “You are my wine..”

“And here I thought I was your muse.”

You can feel him smile against your skin and then his hands as they move around your waist and rest on your stomach.

“Jake.. What if someone walks in?”

“Like I told you earlier, everyone went home..”

You can smell the wine on his breath mixed with the cheese he snuck from the cellar’s cafe. “Let me have you here.. Please?”

“You can barely stand,” You note from his weight leaning against you.

“Mmm..” He hums before walking–more like stumbling–over to the other side of the room where a row of chairs are resting against the wall. He plops down and wrestles with his belt to get it undone. “Then ride me.”

A flood of arousal rushes to your center, a blush covering your face..

“Jacob, you are a menace.”

“What can I say?” He hiccups and giggles, palming himself through the fabric of his pants. “I just love you so much.”

You notice a camera in the corner of the room. The idea of fucking each other on camera sounds rather inticing but you just know it’ll bring a bad rep for Jake and his business if someone were to see it.

“How about we go back to the room and I will ride you all night long?” You perk your eyebrows as you approach him.

“But I want you now..” He whines. He pouts his bottom lip and continues rubbing himself. “Please?”

“I’m sure you can survive just a couple more minutes.” You say as you pull him to his feet and zip up his pants. He huffs and lowers his head.

“You don’t love me..”

You sigh, shaking your head as you smile. “Of course I love you. But don’t you think fucking inside of a cellar where people drink this stuff is a little unsanitary?”

He scoffs and drapes his arm around your shoulders and you help him walk out of the cellar and back towards the villa. “I bet you’d let Charles fuck you in there..” He says when the two of you stumble through the doors of the suite.

“No, I wouldn’t..”

“Oh.. But you’d let him fuck you still though, right?” He stumbles over to the bed and falls onto his back.

“Jake, what the fuck?”

“Come on, admit it,” He struggles to push himself up right again. “If given the chance, you’d let him, wouldn’t you?”

“Who do you think I am?” You say as you unzip your dress and toss it off in a heap on the floor. You grab your pajamas and slip them on and tug your hair out from the collar of the shirt. “Charles is such a creep, I’d never sleep with him and you know that.”

“Oh please.. He’s a rich, old dude who could totally be your sugar daddy..”

“Maybe I don’t want him as my sugar daddy.”

“Maybe?” Jake’s left eyebrow cocks and he leans his head to the side.

“So he has his own vineyard and he’s rich.. I don’t need that.”

“Then what do you need?”

You walk over to the bed and climb on top of it before straddling Jake’s hips. “You.” You say as you begin to slide off his suit jacket, your hands softly gliding down his shoulder blades until his jacket is resting on the bed. He carefully takes his arms out of them and you toss it away.

“Careful, love,” He whispers as you ghost your lips over his. “This is an expensive suit.”

“Says the man who tossed it on the ground not too long ago,” You smile as you start to unbutton his shirt the rest of the way and repeat the same process. After his shirt is gone too, he leans back on one hand as he uses the other to wrap around you and press you against the hardening bulge beneath his pants. He thrusts his hips upwards while still pushing you down against him.

Taking the hint, you remove your top, after having just put it on. You reach for the button on his pants and undo it before dragging the zipper down. He chews on his bottom when he feels your fingers graze over his cock as you pull down the zipper.

You hadn’t gotten far in pulling down his pants before his phone started to ring. “Leave it be,” He says as he pulls you in for a kiss. “Whoever it is can leave a message.”

The ringing stops and he rolls the two of you over on the bed, not once breaking the kiss. But the ringing picks up again. “Jake..”

“I’ll call them back..”

The ringing stops again only to start up just a second later. “I think it might be important,” You say as you pull away.

Groaning, Jake climbs off of you and crawls off the bed to retrieve his phone. “Joshua..” He grumbles. “What is it?” He went quiet as he listened to Josh speak on the other end. “What?” As Josh continues, you watch as Jake leans against the dresser. “When did it happen? .. How much ti–” He runs hand through his hair. “We won’t make it in time, I–Can you tell him I love him?” His voice cracks. “Just in case we don't… You did? .. Okay, we’ll be there as soon as we can.”

Pulling the phone away from his ear, he stuffs into the pocket of his pants as he rezips them.

“Get dressed,” He says as he tosses you clean clothes. “Get your things packed, we have to leave.”

“Jake, what’s happening?”

“Just get packed..” He repeats as he rushes around the room to gather everything up. “We don’t have much time.”

You silently do as you’re told and get all of your stuff together and get dressed. Within thirty minutes your things are packed into the trunk of the car and the driver is rushing you both to the airport. Jake is quiet the entire time, keeping his attention focused on the passing scenery. You still don’t know what is happening, even as you get to the airport and through security. The only words he spoke to you was when he said Josh bought you both red eyes back to Michigan.

He finally broke down on the plane and told you. His grandfather wasn’t doing so well and his parents are trying to get everyone back to Michigan. Josh told him that he’s determined to fight until Jake gets back there. He wants to see Jake.

Landing in Detroit some odd hours later, you’re greeted by a solemn looking Josh. The drive back to their hometown is quiet, neither one of you speaking a word. When coming up to their grandparents’ home, you stayed in the living room with his family while he made his way back to the bedroom to see his grandfather.

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