#and I can't decide between x reader or x OC

[harley-sunday]

Time for some audience participation, besties. I'm curious:

🧡

[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

[solardrop]

mean drunk.

aaron hotchner x fem!reader.

summary: after a bau night on the town your boyfriend tries to get you to admit to being mean when you drink. But he can't seem to keep his hands to himself either... (or hotch says you're a mean drunk and you say 'nuh uh") tags: smut NSFW 18+ alcohol use. dubious consent because both parties are drunk but 'consenting'. oral m/f receiving. unprotected p in v. spitting. literally like 2 seconds of anal. word count: ~2.6k a/n: be nice to me you aren't allowed to be mean this is my first time writing a fic since the finnick odair x oc fic i posted on ff.net when I was like 12 LMAO. first smut in general too so. yeah. all divider creds. to @cafekitsune

The two of you stumbled into the entryway of Hotch's bedroom with your faces all but glued together. Thick hands grasped at the small patch of skin revealed as your shirt rode up your back. 

You lean into his chest and grips a handful of your breast in his hand appreciatively before walking you backwards to the plush comfort of his bed. Suddenly, he pulls away from you completely and boyishly smiles down at you perched  on the edge of his bed.

His lips and neck are covered in a glittery brown sheen from your lip gloss. Black hair spiking in unnatural directions. The powder blue dress shirt he wore haphazardly wrinkled from your efforts to untuck the crisp fabric from his now tightening dress pant. You could eat him from the top down. But he was just standing there. Smiling at you instead of stripping. 

"Aaron, I swear if you dont fucking touch me I'll kill you-"

He giggles as he unbuttons his shirt, "Very mean drunk."

A successful case led the entire team to a night of drinks at O'Keefe's. Penelope was all but pouring shots down everyone's throats; she somehow even managed to get Hotch to down a few extra glasses of scotch than his typical. Unsurprisingly the result was everyone being absolutely sloshed. Everyone was giggly and free, playing stupid drinking games before the topic of 'drunk personalities' came to the table. 

JJ declared herself a sleepy drunk, while Derek, Garcia, and Emily all admitted to being more flirty. Spencer and David started going back and forth about the psychological implications of the human personality traits while intoxicated. So their categorization as chatty drunks went without saying. You were starting to agree with JJ on being sleepy when your annoying man decided to cut you off and say you were mean when drunk. 

Sure, liquid courage did loosen your tongue a bit. You were guilty of causing few hurt feelings after a night out. And maybe Aaron had to whisk you away from a few bar fights with people you couldn't take without your handgun. But you were not a mean drunk!

An uncharacteristic back and forth bounces between you for the remainder of the night. Only ceasing when he smashes his lips against yours in the taxi home. 

His calloused hands flip you around roughly. Propping your hips up towards his face. Your face heats as he presses his face into your wetness, inhaling deeply and moaning at the scent of you.

"So pretty.." He spreads your lips apart with his thumbs, the moisture there almost holding them together. 

Your head was spinning, now from more than just the alcohol. The position was just embarrassing. You were almost completely upside down and your back arched shamelessly. Hell, you couldn't even see Aaron's pretty face like this. His strong thighs and thickening length weren't bad to look at either but you wanted to see him. 

you crane your neck around to tell him as much when he closes his lips around your clit and sucks greedily. 

"Aar-" you gasp. 

You squirm in the grasp he has on your hips. He tightens his hands around you, preventing your from escape. the warmth of his lips travel up from your nub to lick a few long stripes against your slit. 

"Oh fuck off-" you start.

He was going to kill you like this. Your face and neck were too hot, your back was starting to ache. The alcohol and your arousal swirling your mind into a fog.  Hotch continues his attack on your sex. Sucking and licking with whatever intensity he pleased. His words slur together as he praises you. The sound so intelligible you're convinced that they're more for himself than you. 

When the warmth of his tongue prods at your entrance, you fall forward. The wiry hairs along his thigh press into your cheek as your face is squished there. The invasion has you moaning and wailing, bucking your hips closer to him now; begging for him to delve deeper. Your desperation must amuse him because you feel a short puff of air and the semblance of a smile against you. What an absolute drunken ass. 

With a renewed burst of energy, you lean over without warning and suck the head of his length into your mouth. The strong, salty flavor of him spreads along your tongue as you circle the muscle around his tip. 

"Fucking hell-" he rips his mouth from you and yelps out. 

He jerks at your stimulation. His hips thrust into your mouth reflexively, the erratic movement causing his shaft to slip deeper into your mouth. You allow it, pressing your face closer and closer to him until the coarse patch of curls above his length pressed against your chin. 

He's always been so thick. But being held like this, he felt even heavier and stiffer in your mouth. You hollow your cheeks to pull off of him almost completely, the remaining glitter on your lips streaking up his shaft, before quickly pressing yourself down to the hilt. His tip taps against the back of your throat, you welcome the intrusion and swallow around him. 

He stutters your name out, the syllables melting together as you bob your head along him. You giggle at his lack of articulation. The mean, pristine, crime-fighting machine Supervisory Special Agent Hotchner. Reduced to nothing but a gasping mess from a moment in your mouth and a few glasses of whiskey. A hum vibrates from your chest when you pull of to stroke him with a taunt. A string of saliva still connecting your lips to his swollen pink tip.

"See honey? if I was such a meanie drunk," a bead of precum weeps from his slip, you tongue darts out to collect it, "I would take such good care of you like this. Right?"

You slip back down to bask in your self-proclaimed victory. Savoring the heady taste of him before Aaron abruptly drives two thick fingers into you. 

Your eyes snap open and the sound that rips from your throat reverberates around the room, even muffled by the length of him. He picks up a rapid pace. The wet sounds of your pleasure winding you up even further than you thought possible. His girth slips with a pop. Moaninh against his calf as your body slides from its arched position to lay almost flat against his outstretched legs.

"Aar- '' you cry. "Aar this is so- Baby I- I don't think I can-"

You jump as he spits on your lips and grinds a thumb into your nub. As if you needed to be any slicker. The tight circles he makes are punishing. His saliva cooling against your folds doing little to waver the heat building between your legs. His fingers slam into you over and over, sometimes curling down and brushing that soft, sweet spot deep inside you. 

"Uh uh. The gorgeous girl I know can do anything," he presses an additional finger into you, "isn't that right?" 

You buck your hips back into him, the praise sending a shock to your core. You chance a glance over your shoulder at him, and you have to screw your eyes shut again and groan at the sight. The entire lower half of his face was covered in you. The bottom lip tucked between his lips shiny, red, and swollen. His eyes were low, hyperfocused on the movement of his hands between your legs.  Pale face still red from the night of festivities. He looked absolutely entranced. Completely pleased himself and they way he was wrecking you. 

"Aaron, Please just-" He wickedly pinches your clit between his thumb and forefinger and you squeal. 

"Hm? That attitude" he says as he pinches you again.

"Fuck-"

"See?" Another pinch. " I told you, you're a mean drunk," he does it again. 

Tears prickle in your eyes, sweat along your forehead clinging your curls to your warm skin. You thrash and cry as he continues his onslaught.  He was sitting beneath you, pushing and twisting and gripping your body in any way he wanted while you cried and you were the mean drunk?

You try to slip away from him, the pleasure too much, yet not enough to send you over the edge. But he slips his fingers out of you to grab you by the hips, spreading the globes of ass apart to spit on you again. 

Except this time the cold shock landed right on the pucker of your asshole. 

"Aaron!" you whimper

"If only my baby was nicer to me," he has the nerve to sigh wistfully, "I'm so damn hard, if she asked me politely I'd fuck her so good she'd lose it..." 

He rubbed his thumb over your hole, not pushing in, but applying enough pressure to have you keening in pleasure. 

He sighs again, completely ignoring your pants and cries. "But I think I can finish without touching just like this, hm? Maybe in 30? An hour?"

No. Nope. Absolutely not. 

If you had a lick of sense left in your brain right now you'd realize he was fucking with you. You'd recognize his words and the creeping smile on his face as the bullshit they were. But right now all your muddled mind was registering was the danger of being held shaking and pained for an hour without release. You would never finish like this, you couldn't. You needed to look into his eyes, feel his lips graze along your face as you came.  You wouldn't get that, not like this, you'd be stuck like this.

"Pleaseplease Aaron- Aar- fuck. Please I need you, Aar. Please-" 

He breathes out a laugh. Finally granting you mercy from his wicked hands. He grunts a little at the effort of pulling himself up around you, kissing your shoulder as his face finally nears yours. 

"I thought you'd never ask" he smiles, "Where do you want me gorgeous?"

You twist to move on your back, and Hotch shifts to allow you more space. You face him for the first time in a while, and your heat clenches almost automatically when his eyes meet yours. 

It was fucking sick how he had the nerve to call you gorgeous when he looked so positively delicious himself. His lids were still low and his cheeks were still tinged pink. But now you had a true view of the slick coating his mouth and chin. A crooked smile beamed off his face, smile lines deepening at the gesture. 

"Like this," You hold his face in your palms, pulling him down to peck on the lips quickly, "I want to see you, please."

"Anything you want, legs up for me." He playfully taps his hand on the side of your ass. Your legs shoot up quickly, and his eyes crinkle with laughter at your desperation when he props your knees on his shoulders. 

He presses his lips to yours again before shifting all his weight to one arm, the muscle there flexing while he reaches down to grip himself with his free hand.

He runs the tip of his length along your folds, every brush causing you to twitch with sensitivity. Special attention is given to your already swollen clit, nudging his hips forward to swipe against the delicate bundle of nerves.  He pulls away and slots his lips above yours to kiss you fully. 

You eagerly press yourself closer to him, deepening the kiss. His tongue presses into your mouth and you groan when the taste of your wetness mingles with the familiar bite of the dark liquor on his tongue. 

He notches himself at your entrance, massaging but still failing to push inside of you. A whine bubbled from the back of your throat. 

"Baby, I promise I'm already wet enou- Oh!" your murmuring is cut short by Aaron thrusting into you all at once. 

He doesn't even move before your wretched body betrays you. the abrupt force and fullness pushing a white-hot pleasure throughout your entire being. Your thighs beg to snap shut, but the spread of your knees on his shoulders denies them. Your walls lock around him in a vice, causing him to grunt above you. You're saying something, probably some warbled nonsense, but you can't even hear yourself above the heartbeat in your ears. 

Aaron presses his face into the crook of your neck as you come down from your high. Whispering your name and 'i love you', 'so beautiful's into your skin. 

The fluttering of your core begins to slow when he pulls almost completely out of you, only the head remaining within your warmth. He raises an eyebrow at you expectantly, when your breath catches.

"We're not done here are we? Best one of two?" He doesn't wait for an answer before pushing into you, this time much slower.

you mewl at the firm stretch of him. Your hands reach up to grip the back of his neck, pressing his forehead to your own. Your eyes bounce around his features, burning each one into every empty space in your mind like you could ever forget. The precious mole you loved to kiss on his cheek. The unruly hairs sticking up on his temples. His pretty jet-black lashes flutterinh as he struggles to keep his eyes open for you.

His pace intensifies as he gets closer to his own climax, ramming into you. Every push tickles your clit with the thatch of curls that crown his shaft. 

"Such a good girl for me," he tries to hold back a moan causing him to stutter, " Y-you have one more in you I know it." 

The rough sensation of his calloused hands running up your side makes you shiver. You feel it again as he continues to bully his way through your center, the intense warmth pooling in your toes before creeping upwards. You nod your head at him, begging him to keep going, go faster, fuck into you deeper, love you fully. He complies with every soft cry, kissing and biting at your jaw as he forces you over into your second orgasm. 

You were almost completely gone for this one. Screaming into Aaron's mouth as he continues to chase his own release using your body. Your body shakes and you grip his biceps until the crescent marks of your fingernails are guaranteed to become a permanent fixture on his body. 

The breathless whimpering in your ear is what helps slowly bring you back down from your own world. You could tell he was close, his eyes screwing shut and his hips bucking into you out of pace every few beats. Using the last of your strength you push your hips up to meet his thrusts, fucking him back. You press a kiss on his good ear. 

"You treat me so well Honey," you murmur, "Come for me, you're so, so good to me, let me have you"

You suck the lobe of his ear into your mouth and bite down. He punches into you with one final thrust before you feel him twitch, bursts of his warm release spurting deeply inside you. He gasps your name out like a prayer as he comes down. 

Normailly his hardness slipping out of you after a session would cause you to cringe, but right now you were so fucking tired you barely even took note of the sensation. Clearly he was just as out of it as he plopped unceremoniously next to you in silence instead of his normal bossy demands for you to get up and pee after he wore you out. Before you even realize it both of you are drifting off into the best sleep you've had in a while. 

This had to be the worst sleep Aaron's had in a while. His mouth was dry, his head pounding, and his skin felt parched and scratchy despite the sweat that slicked off him. Not to mention the very obvious lack of clothes he was sporting under his bed sheet. 

Before he could grab his phone to send Strauss a termination request form for Garcia (the one he kept saved in his files, yes for moments just like this) you burst into the bedroom and flip the bright lights on. He groans as the rays stab him in the back of the head. You giggle, his pain clearly amusing to you. You saunter over, place a glass of water on the nightstand and press a kiss to his beating forehead. 

"I was wrong, you aren't a mean drunk. You're just mean." he sighs.

You throw your head back in glee

"I'm fine with being the mean drunk," you shrug, "at least we know for sure you're the horny drunk."

[crookedteethed]

HOW i slept with your father | r.c.

Pairing: (older)Bestfriend's Dad Rafe! x Fem!reader

Summary: In which you tell your best friend how you accidentally slept with her father...oops.

Warnings: 18+ Semi-smut (protected p in v) (smut showed through flashback), age gap (reader is in her early 20s, Rafe is in his early forties), cursing, ocs, unrealistic reactions?, hints at Rafe being a fuckboy, I also can't tell if Rafe preyed on reader (you decide for yourself)

A/N: This story is really just reader telling her best friend about her night with Rafe, lmk if you want an actual smutty fic with bestfriend dad Rafe (heart emoticon)

Word count: 1.6k

Part Two

"Maribella, I had sex with your Father."

There, you said it. Your guilty conscience has been cleared. Your mind has been restored, and you can stop thinking about how much of a terrible friend you are because you're really not. You told the truth.

It's like that old stupid proverb, something about the truth setting you free or you setting the truth free, something like that.

There had been a moment of silence. A moment in which Maribella had slowly turned around from her lowboy vanity, half of her face the color of rose red from the blush powder she'd been frantically beating on her cheeks--you two were going out tonight. 

In that moment of silence, you glanced at the ticking clock up on Maribella's wall. It was 8:50 pm, and the boys-- the ones you and Maribella met on the beach that evening, were supposed to pick you both up in thirty minutes. 

"Gross." Maribella mumbles, returning to her vanity mirror and continuing to powder her cheeks. "You aren't going to be my new stepmother now, are you?" She says. 

You looked at the framed photo on Marbella's vanity--the photo of a smallish Maribella with chubby cheeks and missing baby teeth sandwiched between a very young Mr. Cameron and Maribella's Late mother (She wasn't dead, just not in Maribella's life after the divorce). 

You think to yourself how much of a resemblance your friend shares with her father--the same cerulean-colored eyes and dusky blond hair--you remember thinking this that night in which you fucked Mr. Cameron. 

You remember having to close your eyes shut while his girthy length pile drove into you during missionary, but Rafe had insisted on keeping your eyes open, or he wouldn't have let you cum that time. "Eyes on me, baby." he said, lightly tapping your cheek.

"No, not if you don't want me to." you said.

Maribella hums.

"To make it even, you can sleep with my father." you suggested, which cause Maribella to scrunch up her face in her backwards reflection.

"Your father's gross and old." She says. "and besides, isn't he still with that women?"

"My mother? Yes."

You watch from your spot on Maribella's bed as she gets up from her vanity and enters her walk-in closet.

"At least I get the appeal with my father." She shouts from the other room.

Minutes later, Maribella emerges from her closet, no longer in her silk bathrobe but in a simple white slip dress. 

"How do I look?" she asks you.

"Cute." you tell her.

She hums again, being satisfied with your response. Then, Maribella goes back to her vanity to continue doing her makeup.

"So, tell me." She says. "Tell me how'd you fucked my dad."

You shrug. "It just happened one time." and many other times afterward.

"Y'know." Maribella turns around excitedly. "Out of all the women my dad has slept with, you're the first one I ever gotten to talk to about it, so what was he like?"

Now it was your turn to scrunch up your face in disgust. "Maribella, this is gross. I'm not going to tell you how your dad fucks in bed."

"No fair." she whines. "I tell you about all the guys I've slept with."

You raise your eyebrow, to be fair she had a point.

"Let's just pretend my dad isn't my dad or Mr. Cameron; he's just Rafe, some stupid boy you fucked; now tell me everything."

Rafe was just some stupid guy you had fucked, but he wasn't a boy; he was all man--which is what had you enamored by him--it was either that or he was the first guy actually to tend to the needs of being wanted that had you so enamored by him.

 Unlike other guys you had been with, Rafe was attentive and considerate, making sure to meet your needs and desires. That's what made him stand out and had you so enamored.

This is why you kept coming back.

It was the night of Maribella's 21st birthday party. In your retellings of the story, you failed to mention how Rafe had kept staring at you that night. Every time you encountered each other, his eyes would first wander to your lips and then linger on your breast--which was practically spilling out the top of your corset. And each time you labeled him "Mr. Cameron," he would insist on you calling him "Rafe" because you were no longer a child. 

And it was liberating that Rafe did not see you as a child anymore, now seeing you for who you are: an adult woman. 

You also failed to mention when you spotted Rafe and his then-date, some black-haired women equally his age, arguing on the upstairs deck of Tanny Hill.

You didn't tell Maribella that you overheard Rafe's date yell at him: "Don't call me the next time you're horny, call Mrs. Young Pussy instead." Before storming out.

You kept in how Rafe had called you Beautiful that night, you didn't keep in how much that made you blush, after Maribella had said "Gross."

You exaggerated how much you had drunk that night to make it seem like a blackout drunk story—was it 10 shots? 20? You've forgotten, you told Maribella.

You told Maribella how after you and Rafe carried a shit-fazed Maribella to her bedroom, Rafe told her you didn't have to go home as the rest of the guests did; you could stay.

"You're always welcomed to stay" His exact words.  

You also left out that moment in which you and Rafe shared in the kitchen sharing a bottle of wine, in which you confronted him about his date leaving mad, and in his exact words:

"Women my age are just so uptight."

And though you hadn't quite understood what he meant, you nodded anyway.

He then says: "I'm sure you can understand that, but in reverse, with men your age."

"Men my age are stupid and don't know what they want." you responded.

"That's a shame." Rafe had told you. "Because I know what I want."

And you knew it wasn't the weed you smoked earlier or the few sips of red wine you were having that altered your perception to make you think Rafe was getting closer to you; Rafe was getting closer to you. 

By the end of the conversation, Rafe was no longer on the opposite side of the kitchen island; he was now standing beside you, the skin of his elbow touching yours. 

Your breathing had become uneven as Rafe's gaze remained steadfastly locked with yours, but you deliberately avoided meeting his eyes, for this was your best friend's father.

You felt your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to think of a way to break the silence. You took a deep breath and forced yourself to look into the intense blue of Rafe's eyes.

You didn't tell Maribella when you told Rafe that you weren't uptight, which was a quip to his response about knowing what he wants. And then he kissed you.     

The kiss took both of you by surprise, but it was undeniable that there was a spark between you. As your lips met, time seemed to stand still, and in that moment, you knew that this was the beginning of something extraordinary.

"And then we had sex." you concluded to Maribella.

Sex would be an understatement, you fucked.

Rafe had placed pecks on every inch of your body as he carried you into his bedroom, a room that was always off-limits when you and Maribella used to play with each other growing up. 

You were too enamored by Rafe's bergamot scent and how he kept calling you beautiful with each peck to your flesh to examine his room and hypothesize why this room of all rooms was once off limits. 

You were too overwhelmed when you felt his large muscular hands tear your clothes off your body to notice the picture of Maribella sitting on Rafe's bed side table.

You were too overcome with lust and craving when Rafe requested that you retrieve a condom from his nightstand, where you intentionally dislodged the photograph of Maribella.

Out of sight out of mine.

As Rafe carefully rolled the condom down his reddening shaft, you feigned an air of eager anticipation, so much so that you almost missed when Rafe remarked:

"You have no idea how long I've been longing for this moment."

Right then, without a warning, Rafe plunged himself deep inside of you like no man has ever done before. 

Your eyes widened, and your mouth formed the shape of an 'o' as you felt his thick cock split your cunt open, kiss your cervix, and sheath deep inside your belly. 

You counted the number of times Rafe said your pussy was tight; it was a number of 10.

At this point, Maribella no longer sat at her vanity and was now sitting beside you on her bed. 

"Oh, lame." She says. "So it was just a drunken mistake, a one-night stand kind of thing?"

You hummed. This reminds you that you should cut things off with Rafe since Maribella knows now. 

Right then in the moment Maribella's phone dings.

"The boys are here." She says. "You ready?"

And as you and Maribella walked down the spiral staircase of Tanny Hill, your friend told you:

"Now that I think of it, I'm not that pissed that you slept with my dad; as I said, I get it: he's rich, and he's good-looking for his age; what other qualities do you need in a man?"

In which you hummed again.

"Now if this was a recurring thing, that's a whole other story--Oh! hi Daddy."

As you and Maribelle descended to the base of the stairs, you were greeted by Rafe.

Rafe looked at you first before greeting his daughter.

You made an effort to maintain eye contact with him, despite his patronizing gaze, resisting the temptation to steal glances at him in his form-fitting shirt that accentuated his muscular physique.

You focused on maintaining a calm and composed demeanor, refusing to let his condescension affect you. Instead, you redirected your attention to the conversation at hand.

"Where are you girls headed?" He asks, addressing no one in particular.

"We're going out," Maribella says, sensing the tension and tugging your wrist towards the door.

"Don't wait up for me; we'll be out all night," Maribella said, Rafe's eyes never leaving yours as you and Maribella exited the door.

The boys you'd met earlier—Steven and Conrad, you think their names were—were parked outside Tanny Hill, blasting some obnoxious music from their car speakers.

"Oh wait, I think I forgot something," you tell Maribella as you approach the car. 

You don't wait for Maribella's approval before jogging back inside her house, where her father awaited you behind the front door with a sly smirk on his lips.

"I knew you couldn't resist telling me a goodbye," he remarked, just as the two of you leaned in for a messy, passionate kiss.

Knowing you were pressed for time, you were the one to break the kiss. 

'Same time again tomorrow night?' he asks, his voice filled with a mix of hope and desire as he wipes away the remnants of your shared moment. 

"Same time." you reassured.

[violet-butterflies]

❥︎ yandere! Dilf Part 2

❥︎ Warnings ! ☞︎︎︎ drugging, stalking, delusional, doing things without consent, masturbation, NSFW ( male yandere! oc x female reader ) Click to see part 1 and part 3 !

"You wanna join daddy and mommy in bed, Yoon?"

The four-year-old nodded at his dad cutely as he climbed onto the bed, right between an unconscious woman and his dad. As soon as the four-year-old was comfortable, his dad took both his son and the sleeping woman. He then kissed the cheeks of both his son and the woman in his arms.

"I wuv you daddy..." the kid sleepily said to his dad as he let out a big yawn. His dad let out a loving smile as soon as his son said the adorable statement.

"I love you too buddy... What about mommy? Do you love mommy?"

"Mhm! But... why can't I call her mommy daddy?" Yoon asked as he tried his best to keep his eyes open to listen to his dad's answer.

"Mommy doesn't know that she's a mommy yet... It's a big surprise and we'll tell her soon!"

It never occurred to Junho (yandere! dilf) that his perfect mirage of a family would be broken anytime soon. He's always followed a very specific routine that rarely changes. It's always dropping his son to kindergarten, working until it was time for his son to go home, watching the hidden cameras in his house as y/n brings his son home to babysit. Then, it was either drugging the girl so she would be knocked out on his bed and in his arms or letting her go home and watching her in her house through a hidden camera he planted in a teddy bear he gave her.

He was stuck inside of a fantasy where you were his wife and living a domesticated life with him and his son. One day that fantasy will come true, Junho is definitely dedicated to making that dream a reality, however, why rush when he has all the time in the world?

After all, y/n was always under his watch so at this point he knows everything about her!

"Junho! So I have this barbeque party that I'm gonna host at my place next week. You and Yoon should totally come!" y/n invited one day before going back to her place.

"Barbeque party? That sounds fun! What's the occasion?" Junho curiously asked as an asleep Yoon was carried in his arms.

She giggled before answering, "It's a secret until the party!"

y/n then said her last goodbyes before walking out of the door, leaving a curious Junho standing at his front door.

A secret? What is she hiding that Junho could possibly not know about? To be completely honest, Junho did not like surprises at all. He likes to know as many things as he can and a surprise could either be bad or good.

Junho grumbled his way into his son's room to tuck his lovely son before sliding into his room. He plopped himself on his king-sized bed before trying to go to sleep and yet, he couldn't.

After tossing and turning a couple of times, he decided to take something out of his nightstand drawer.

It was y/n's panties.

Junho always felt guilty when he has to take the article of clothing out. He never likes it when he does something behind your back, especially something so lewd.

With one swift move, he took off his sweatpants before bringing one of his large hands that clenched onto y/n's panties over his nose. The other hand, went to his cock which was already beginning to get hard at the thought of masturbating using the panties of the woman he loves. It's not the proudest thing he's ever done but, it was the closest thing he has to making love with his beloved girl.

"Oh y/n... My beloved wife," he sighed after taking a whiff of the scent the panties held. His other hand was furiously moving on his angry cock as he desperately needed a release. His head was filled with images of a naked y/n under his body, moaning beautiful noises and holding his muscular body tightly with her soft hands.

With one last grunt, he released white strings of cum all over his hand and stomach. Sighing for the final time, the carefully made sure to put the panties safely into his drawer without it touching any of his cum (because that means he would have to wash it and that would make all her scent disappear) before lying back into bed.

Now he was tired and ready for bed and he did exactly that, falling asleep before post-nut clarity decides to bug him with any unwanted thoughts.

The week after, a casually dressed-up Junho and his excited son, Yoon, were waiting in front of y/n's front door. Multiple cars were parked around her house, all probably belonging to the other guests who were also invited to her barbeque party.

"Ah, Junho and Yoon! Please come in! We just finished grilling the first batch of food!"

Junho and Yoon eagerly walked in, Junho taking in all of the details of his beloved (soon-to-be) wife's house since it was his first time really being inside.

The muscular man recognized some of the guests that attended the party; those guests being some of the other teachers from the kindergarten she taught in.

Junho got to mingle with some of y/n's friends as he and his son ate the wonderful food prepared at the party. It made him feel closer to you now that he's met the people you surrounded yourself with and it was also a treat to see his own son getting along with some of the kids present; happy laughter and chatter filling up the wide backyard.

"Ok can I please have all of your attention please?" y/n's sweet voice asked while she softly hit the back of a spoon to her glass with to get everyone's attention.

All chatter suddenly halted as all eyes were on the h/c (hair colored) woman smiling happily.

"So, I'm sure that you all are very curious as to why I suddenly held a barbeque party," y/n started, "And it's also been very hard hiding this surprise from the closest people I know. But, I wanted to make it a special event since it is something that would only happen once in a lifetime."

For some reason, Junho had a terrible feeling in his stomach. He had an inkling of a thought that suggested that whatever y/n was about to announce would be something that could absolutely destroy him but, for her, he chose to keep a bated breath as he waited for this big surprise.

Junho watched as her hands held another man's hands to help him stand up, a loving gaze present in both of their eyes.

'No please don't do this to me.'

The foreign man then kissed his beloved's cheeks tenderly making her lips stretch into a wide smile.

'It's not what I think it is right? It can't be it right?'

She then showed off a diamond ring on her finger with a giggle that would've sounded melodic if Junho was the one to be the reason behind it.

'This has to be a joke right?!'

"Everyone meet Josh, my fiance! I'm getting married soon!"

At that moment, Junho felt his perfect daydream be painfully ripped away from him as his heart stopped at the announcement.

A/N Please send help I wrote this chapter after playing League of Legends for 13 hours straight. My back is so sore ouch. I wasn't gonna leave you all on a cliffhanger but the post was getting super long and my back is slowly transforming me into a shrimp.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this upload, and keep an eye out for part 3!

[dreamingofmarauders]

You're the Only One for Me

Sirius Black x Fem!Reader

Summary: In which after overhearing a conversation in the library, you feel Sirius may leave you for someone better

Warnings: Use of Y/n, insecurity, nervousness, fluff at the end (I think that's all)

A/N: Hi there, I hope you're well! Again, this is another one of my Sirius x OC oneshots from Wattpad that I decided to switch to Sirius x Reader. I hope you enjoy it!

Masterlist

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Y/n was sat on the couch by the fireplace of the Gryffindor tower. The flames' light danced across her face as she stared into the fire, her mind echoing of what she had heard earlier that day.

Evelyn Sanders of Ravenclaw was sitting with her friends in the library, all huddled together as she told them something.

"In no time Black will be chasing after me, wanting me to be with him." She smugly said.

"How can you be sure about that?" One of the other girls said. "From what we've all seen, he's been with L/n for ages. What makes you think he'll dump her for you?"

Evelyn scoffed, flicking her brunette hair over her shoulders. "Please. That L/n? He can't stay with her forever, I mean look at her compared to me. I'm more prettier, more outgoing, life of the party, and I'm not book obsessed like her and always scolding people. I'm way more his type." She said, with an over amount of confidence in her voice.

"Besides," Evelyn continued, "He's going to get tired of her very soon, I can see it. It won't be long until he throws that L/n away like the others. He will want me."

"Let's say he does, " One of her friends named Lila said, "How are you so confident in saying he will come after you?"

Evelyn devilishly grinned, "He will want me, and if he doesn't, a bit of help from a love potion won't hurt." She said, winking.

Unbeknownst to them, Y/n was behind one of the shelves nearby and accidentally caught word of their conversation. When she realized it was regarding her boyfriend and her, Y/n couldn't help but listen and after hearing the words exchanged between the group, Y/n felt hollow inside.

The words had managed to play with her head. One thing that was almost an insecurity for Y/n was the thought of Sirius leaving her for someone else, for someone better than her. After all, he had been a player and although Y/n knew he had changed, sometimes the thought crossed her mind and it scared her. It made her feel insecure. Y/n didn't want to lose Sirius.

Y/n kept looking into the fire as her mind was clouded with that thought. She didn't realize when a new presence joined her, who was frowning at her behavior, already knowing something was up.

"You alright?"

Y/n jumped in her seat, as she tore her eyes from the fireplace to look beside her to find none other than the person occupying her thoughts.

Her boyfriend,

Sirius Black.

"Well I'm not alright now since you scared the living daylights out of me." Y/n replied as her hand was placed on her racing heart.

Sirius studied her, his gaze piercing into hers as if he could read what Y/n was thinking. Y/n shuddered and broke the eye contact, fidgeting with her hands before she realized Sirius knew that was a sign of her nervousness.

Sirius pulled Y/n close, bringing her into his side, placing a kiss on her head. Y/n melted into him, as some of the tension in her dissolved but she still couldn't get over what she had heard in the library.

Y/n's face was able to convey that her mind wasn't with her surroundings.

"Darling, what are you thinking about?" Sirius asked, looking down at the y/h/c haired whose eyes widened slightly for a second, before she masked her emotions.

"Nothing much, just lessons-"

"I know you, Y/n/n, so don't even try to lie to me." Sirius cut across his girlfriend who moved away from his embrace, looking at the ground instead.

"I-I just remembered, I forgot to fix a mistake on my Potions assignment. I'm just going to go do that and then head out for Prefect patrol." Y/n said before she suddenly got up, wanting to leave. Before she could take a step however, a hand latched on her wrist and pulled her back down.

"You're avoiding the question." Sirius said in a serious tone, making Y/n squeeze her eyes shut.

"I'm fine, Sirius. Now, please just let me go." Y/n pleaded.

"Do you not trust me?" He suddenly said. "I understand if you don't want to share, but it would be easier to let it out then keep it in." Sirius said, moving his grip from around Y/n's wrist to her hand, rubbing comforting circles in her palm.

Y/n released a defeated sigh and buried her face in his chest, "I'm scared."

Sirius frowned but wrapped an arm around the girl, "Of what? The war, that's a natural response-"

"No." Y/n said, making Sirius go quiet, shaking her head.

"Then what are you afraid of, Y/n/n?"

"I'm scared to," Y/n gulped, "lose you."

Sirius went silent upon this and he felt bewildered.

Why was Y/n afraid of losing him?

"I don't understand." He said, pulling the girl away to look at her but Y/n's gaze was on her fidgeting hands.

"I'm afraid that you might leave me for someone e-else, someone way better than m-me." She said, her eyes glossing over.

Sirius placed his hand under Y/n's chin, lifting her head with his finger so he could look into her eyes.

"I would never leave you. You know how much I love you. What makes you even think of that?" Sirius asked. "I know I've made some questionable choices in the past, but I'm not that person anymore. I began changing right when I fell for you." Sirius said, trying to make Y/n understand he wasn't planning on leaving her.

Y/n rubbed away a stray tear, "But I'm not anywhere near as good as other girls, why would you stay with me-"

"Because I love you, Y/n/n. You're the only one for me. I don't care about other people." Sirius replied, brushing away another tear that had escaped Y/n's eyes.

"But Evelyn said you'll be after her next, that you will get bored of me real soon. She said even if you don't leave me, she'll slip you a love potion." Y/n finished with a shaky breath.

"Sanders? Of Ravenclaw?" Sirius scoffed, "Please. She just needs a little lesson taught that's all." He said with a mischievous look before his gaze softened as he looked back at Y/n.

"I am always yours. I'm sorry that you feel insecure like this but I promise you that I am never leaving you for anyone, because you're mine." Sirius said lovingly.

"I love," He placed a peck on Y/n's lips, "you, forever."

At that, Y/n let out a relieved chuckle before wrapping her arms around Sirius' neck, "I love you too, always." With that, she placed her lips on Sirius', because they both were meant to be together, forever.

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[tastesousweet]

⭒ the girl with the tattoo (xiii) - pt 1 pt 2 p3 p4 p5 p6 p7 p8 p9 p10 p11 p12

matt sturniolo x fem!oc / reader

summary : halloweekend finds the pair in a tense party environment, putting their declaration of "just friends" to a test.

warnings : fluffy fun, very angsty at times, smutty at times (forgive me if it’s not up to par i haven’t wrote smut in a sec :/), alcohol and weed use mentioned, barely proof-read

mickey speaks : i have too much fun writing lucas and y/n scenes pls save me also i hope u enjoy and had a good halloween luv u all sm

THIS IS PART THIRTEEN, READ THE OTHERS FIRST PLEASE...

THE house is flooding. people are moving in and out constantly; stepping out for a smoke, or leaning over to let out strings of bile-filled saliva, or just leave the crowded event altogether. those who walk past the leaving groups are likely to step over a few drunk, costume-clad bodies (who have decided the floor looks "hella comfy" at that point in their night), and would be met with an undeniable heat radiating from every wall as the electric beats of the rhythm of the night headlines over every speaker.

by the time you arrive (with remi's hands wrapped tightly around your upper arm as if you were both entering a terrifying, haunted house rather than a boozy costume party) the party is at it's peak. a man in a hyper-realistic werewolf costume stood at the door to ask for your names and shamelessly flirt with the two of you before you were let into the large house.

you look to remi with excitement once you're fully engulfed in the home and your faces are both painted by the slow changing, colored lights. just as your mouth opens to speak, a smooth and familiar voice rings out a groan around you both, "good god!" lucas breaks between you two, hanging each of his large arms over the length of both you and remi's shoulders. "you two are lookin' fine as hell," he looks back and forth, eyeing you both with his toothy grin that glimmers extra with the decorative gem on his canine.

remi lets out a laugh, "thank you lucas," she sees the way he's leaning onto you and drawing circles on your shoulder making her smile, "but i will not be participating in any sister-wive shenanigans- so i'll see you," she slips from his hold and begins to walk backwards and silently mouths "i'll be in the kitchen" to you while motioning her hand as if she was drinking something which makes you laugh to yourself and exchange thumbs up's with each other.

lucas sends a flutter of his fingers to remi and when she turns around to navigate through the crowd, he's looking at you again- with your dolled up face and sheer-red glossed lips that he keeps staring at whenever you're speaking or rubbing them together. he hooks his arm to pull you closer as he leans down to speak into your ear through your hair, "how've you been, baby?"

your face gives away his obvious affect on you. you look down and then back up at him, bringing your hand up to play with his fingers on your hot skin, "i've been good. how about you?"

he brings his head close as he listens to you speak, nodding his head at a few people who assumingly recognize him.

"mmm," he unwraps his arm from you as he moves to lean his back against a wall with various faux spiderwebs and skulls stuck to it; still just as crowded by people on either side of him talking loudly or meeting each other's tongues. "love to hear that, you know 'm always feelin' good," he keeps ahold of your hand and smoothly spins you around to face him. he eyes your tight red corset and the way your ass sits in those tiny pink bloomer shorts and has to ask, "so.. what are you? some kind of fairy?"

his face looks so genuinely curious and attractive under the luxurious lighting that you can't help but smile, "i'm cupid! see?" you turn and lift your leg slightly to show off a small decorative bow and arrow attached by a lacy thigh garter.

"have you shot anyone yet?" he grins and his eyes, while puffy and red, remain focused on you.

it's been a while since you've seen lucas and even longer since you've felt the gentle intimacy from a guy you like, so you lean close and wrap your arms around his neck, lifting yourself up slightly to kiss his cheek, "just one."

lucas dramatically groans and leans his head back against the wall, "fuckin' hell," he bites at his bottom lip. when he finally brings himself to make eye contact with you again you're there, so close to him, with that pretty smile and those charming eyes. he jokingly shakes his head back and forth, "jesus." he starts to look around before calling out, "are there any nurses around here?! shit i'll take a sexy doctor at this point- my heart might just give out right now!"

you let out a cackle and look behind you at the few people who have overheard lucas' call for help before looking back to him and shushing him through his attractive laugh and calls of “help me”. he pulls you close enough for your faces to unintentionally meet to share an intoxicating giggle, before you take hold of his thick overall strap and hold his chin, feeling over his soft facial hair. you surprise him when you deliver a taste of you with a kiss to his lips, your voice gentle, "hey shhh ... i can take care of you."

౨ৎ

"what. the. fuck?!" matt says through a stifled laugh, waving through the smokey air to ensure he is seeing correctly.

chris stands with his hips tilted and cherry red lips pouted, dressed head to toe in a little red-riding-hood costume while he leans on a giggly andrea who's his self-proclaimed slutty big-bad-wolf counterpart. she’s got fluffy grey ears on top of her loosely curled hair and heavy dark eyeliner that brings out the hazel in her eyes. her tiny daisy duke shorts, furry boots, and sharp fake canines pull the rest of her costume together perfectly.

nathan's cackle rings as he comes from behind matt to greet his friends, "holy shit, that's too good, which one of you thought of this?!" he points a finger out from his grip on a slim beer bottle.

chris starts to laugh as andrea playfully replies, "who do you think?"

"just wait until nick sees you in this after you told him you wouldn't do drag with him..." matt tsks, still astonished by the sight of his brother in a tiny skirt.

chris twirls and plays with the ends of his frazzled wig as andrea begins to show them the photos she'd taken while they were getting ready. matt looks over to chris, "i really can't deal with how into this you are."

chris' face deadpans and he jokingly jumps at matt with a fist curled, making matt move backwards and almost knock nathan's drink out of his hand, "yeah, that's what i thought! i'll beat your ass!" he pitches his voice up to a hyper-feminine octave.

andrea lifts her hands up as she laughs, "woah? i thought this was a classy party?!"

matt sputters out his own chuckle at chris who is still playing up some sort of reality tv level fight, "oh my god hold me back!" he wraps andrea's arms around his torso while simultaneously throwing his arms in matt's direction, "hold me back babe, i'm about to kill this bitch!"

almost everyone around them has fallen weak from laughter when nick's exclaim cuts through over the loud music and hysterics, "is that christopher?! my brother?!" nick rushes down the stairs and chris immediately pushes through a crowd to go hug him.

"dude, chris is off one tonight! holy shit, i can't stop laughing," nathan wipes his eyes and rests his hand on matt's shoulder.

asha (who just so happened to get caught in chris' tight hug due to nick's hold on her hand) gives chris a soft pat on the back before ducking from between the two drunk idiots' hold and heading to greet her friends. "andrea! hi pretty lady!" the two squeeze each other tight before she moves to hug nate and matt.

"you all look so good! where's y/n?" she asks with a wide grin, the bright colors of her daphne costume enhancing the bronze of her skin in the low lighting.

"don't know." matt says with a shrug and a glance around the party atmosphere. he wish he knew. honestly, he wishes you were at his side, holding onto him right now.

his night out with elijah a few weeks back was only helpful for that night. sure, he had fun with the attention and heat of the moment sex that came with it- but he was left annoyed the next day when he woke up next to a girl incomparable to you. it was embarrassing and an emotionally drunk mistake; he's given himself enough shit for it, so he doesn't feel any need to ever expose that to you, if he's gifted with your openness again. if.

"she got ready at remi's, so i haven't seen her yet," andrea says before she's distracted by her boyfriend stood on a wooden table across the room, "chris! bájate (get off)! get down from there!" she yells in worry while quickly parting from the group.

"god, he’s wild." asha looks from chris dancing on the raised table to the two boys next to her, "well, i'm gonna go get a drink and hopefully find y/n while i'm gone," she spins to leave and surprisingly matt is right next to her, ready to follow suit.

"i'll come with you," he explains and asha pauses in question, "c'mon, just keep walkin'."

the two approach the vile display of a kitchen with cluttered liquors and mixers, sticky residue atop the counters and plenty of bodies using the space as their personal lounge. matt's got his head turning constantly (in hopes to at least spot you from afar and get the chance to admire), as he stands next to asha who's creating a beverage of sorts, "what're y'making?"

"literally have no clue, just puttin' a little malibu with hawaiian punch i'm sure it'll be fine-" she looks over to him, "what the hell are you doing?" she laughs while putting the cap back onto the tall bottle, "whipping your head around like crazy. do you have opps around here, matthew?"

matt rolls his eyes, "no," he sighs and goes to grab another beer from the fridge (after excusing himself to a couple leant against it). he twists the cap and takes a long sip.

"hey! you done with that yet?" a brash and irritating voice yells into the air, causing matt and asha to look over to see the guy with a poorly made vampire costume and his grimy finger pointed at her, "yeah, you!"

"excuse me?! who the fuck are you talking to?" asha immediately defends while gesturing to the bottle dismissively, "yeah i'm done with it you asshole, take it."

though he stays silent, matt's face displays disgust which makes the man just as mad, "the fuck is wrong with your face, cowboy? can't even defend your girl but you wanna have that dumbass look on your face."

matt laughs, the last thing he expected was to be ridiculed and pestered tonight, "can you chill the fuck out? there was no issue until your greedy ass came in here and started cussin' at girls and callin' me a cowboy when i'm clearly indiana jones."

asha tilts her hand as if to say, clearly? well that's debatable, which makes matt kiss his teeth. she ignores him and flashes a smile, mouthing, "okay, let's go" but the guy can't help but rebuttal and continue to shout profanities while the pair head out of the kitchen. so it's only right that matt turn his head to the guy and yell out, "go find some happiness and peace you drunk fuck, no one wants you here!" before he snickers to himself and gulps down more of his beer, wiping his dripping mouth with his exposed forearm.

matt and asha swiftly move through the crowd while laughing and sipping at their drinks until they find a spot big enough for both of them on the makeshift dancefloor. "hey, that drink better be worth literally fighting for." matt yells over the music and points at the solo cup in her hand.

"eh," she shrugs and begins to sway herself with the hypnotic dance-pop music playing loudly. she connects large dips of her hips with movement in her arms and lipsyncing that helps to loosen matt up enough to find some enjoyment in the small buzz of alcohol and pounding musical vibrations. though his playful mood dies when asha almost chokes on her drink (out of excitement) as she taps at matt's shoulder a few quick times. "oh my god! i found y/n! and ... is that ... lucas?" she squints her eyes.

matt doesn't mean to but his entire body reverses to get a view. only it's worse than he could ever imagine in his own creative mind. it's the harsh breaths you're taking and the way your bodies move as one and how he's hugging onto you under these turquoise and orange lights, it feels like matt has just been kicked down onto his knees and beaten over the head bloody. the heat of the people around him who keep bumping into him as he stands and watches you perform, is dizzying. there's constant movement in both time and the crowd, yet matt feels stuck. but that's strictly internal, matt's external remains dangerously calm. calm enough that asha doesn't notice any change, not even the roughness in his throat when he replies to her comment of "i didn't even know they were a thing" with a hushed, "me neither..."

౨ৎ

"wow you look fucking terrible, matt" nick stares with wide eyes, "asha, babe, how did you leave my brother alone for like thirty minutes and he's got the face of death the next time we see him?!" he laughs at his brother slumped in a lonesome outdoor chair.

"s’not on me! i promise he was fine when i left him!" she drunkenly expresses.

matt leans his head to the side, "yeah, make fun of me all you want. i'm not the idiot in a fuckin' blonde wig."

nick dramatically caresses his short, slightly off-centered, wig, "not too much! i am fred fucking jones!” making asha giggle uncontrollably as he adds, “where is the respect for icons around here?!”

matt's finding it difficult to enjoy any part of his night now that he has the sight of lucas practically fucking you in his friend's living room imprinted in his skull. he wishes you could have seen him there, watching. he hopes that your stomach would've dropped and you'd ask him to forgive you as he walked away. he hopes that maybe lucas was bothering you and matt just missed the part where you slapped him and told him to leave you alone. that wasn't his fucking sunny. sunny has more respect for herself. he knows sunshine when he sees it; and sunshine is better than matt. from what he saw, tonight you're just like him. how could you? do you truly see matt as a fucking friend? has all of his bickering about not getting with his friends fallen on deaf ears? or do you just not care enough?

౨ৎ

"so you're the only minion? what are your friends dressed as then?" you ask in reference to his costume as lucas feeds you a potato chip from the large bowl he stole from a dining table.

he has a smile as he looks up at you, sat on top of his lap, "yeah, you could say i went rogue, i guess. i got fired for bein' high on the job." you laugh and he brings another chips to your mouth, "all my boys are dressed like m&ms or batman and shit." lucas is caught by surprise when he sees matt approach the couch. "matt! what's up, man. i haven't seen you in a minute, here sit down." he moves the bowl from the cushion next to him, tapping the seat to invite him closer.

you quietly take a sip from the cold mixed drink in your hand and play with the lacy ruffles on your tiny shorts. you wonder if he’ll actually sit down, just to fuck with you. you truly never know what to expect from matt, you two haven't even been alone together since he'd given you an impromptu tattoo on your back. you know he’s likely come over to degrade you over enjoying any time without him. you don’t think he should be bothered with what you do with anyone else at this point.

he speaks up with a shake of his head and downturned lips, "nah i'm cool. y/n, can i talk to you?" his voice has a deep rasp that forces his east coast roots to sprinkle into his dialect.

"hm?" you finally look over to him. while your eyelids sparkle with loose glitter, his eyelids are heavy and his eyebrows, a confusing kind of angry. his lips are upset with you and his jaw is achingly pissed. your lips are still so soft and plump; matt would hate to think they've been kissed by the man underneath you.

"can we go talk?"

"what's going on? is it about one of our friends?" you're playing clueless in hopes that he'll let you finish enjoying your time not thinking about him tonight. for one fucking night.

he repeats your words in a breathy mock, "what's going on? y/n, please don't do this bullshit with me right now."

"alright no need for all that," lucas breathes out, his eyebrows pinched together.

a smile plays on matt’s face at the audacity of him to speak up as the literal other man here, "lucas, shut the fuck up. this has nothing to do with you, i'm just tryna' talk to my friend right now before i leave this dumbass party."

"wh-?!" lucas' voice gains it's own, contrasting, roughness.

“matt?!” you scold and immediately stand up, turning to lucas with an exhaustive sigh, "just give me a sec, okay?" you squeeze his hand before turning to matt, "come on."

౨ৎ

"this is fucking ridiculous,” he huffs.

"matt, slow down. please," you try to keep up with him physically through the crowd, and emotionally through his words.

he's mostly talking to himself with the way he speaks under his breath, "what the fuck were you thinkin'?"

"i can't hear, what are you saying?" you genuinely ask and try to move closer from behind him, only you accidentally move too harsh and swift, tripping yourself in the process.

he's quick to grab hold of your torso and lift you upright, "be careful, y/n."

"yeah, m’trying, matt." you readjust yourself upright and he takes his warm hands away from your body, reluctantly grabbing your hand instead to pull you the rest of the way through.

౨ৎ

you can finally see him. now that you’re both stood in the first bedroom matt could find upstairs, you're finally able to see him under the controlled, yellowed light of the private room.

you're in the middle of the unfamiliar room, watching him with his back towards you as he shuts the door. he lets out a deep breath as he looks over to you. it's too bad he can't cherish you when you're so damn cute in your tight costume and angel wings.

you curiously admire his appearance as well; he's clad in brown textured pants with a belt and rope connected while his toned chest and arms display his collection of tattoos under the brown vest. his face is attractively looking to you with fake bruises on his cheekbones and corner of his lip. the hat and satchel he wears would normally make you smile and giggle out of appreciation for his commitment to the character, but he's looking at you with such trouble you're feeling the drunken buzz you once had begin to fade.

"hey," your voice is small.

"y/n, what the fuck is going on?" his voice is immediately bitter.

you breathe out a laugh through your nose dismissively, "wow, okay. i'm not doing this right now..." you start to walk around him and towards the door.

"what? don't leave?!" he follows you and you stop.

you look over your shoulder at him, "matt, i'm not letting you yell at me and make me feel bad for enjoying my night out."

"no, i-" he sighs through his nose and comes close as he lowers his voice, "i'm trying to look after you," he gently wraps his arms over your shoulders, connecting his hand with his wrist.

"you're not... you're actually just being selfish, matt." you stand your ground.

"lucas isn't good for you, y/n, i've told you this," he reminds you with his face buried into the space where your shoulder and neck meet.

you groan, "i don't think you understand how fucking frustrating you sound!" you remove his arms and turn yourself around to look into his eyes, because maybe it will help him (and yourself) believe your words, "you wanna talk matt? let's talk. how about this: you and i were never and will never be together."

matt's tongue runs over his teeth and his stomach slightly aches the thought but he takes it on the chin, playing up his cocky personality you unfortunately have grown to favor. he smiles in your face, "i bet that felt good, huh?"

"better than you'd think." you think he can't tell but your eyes are the slightest bit glossier as you speak.

"mm," he nods his head, "right … so now what? you found another sleazed-out pothead to give you dick every now and then? you replacin' me?" he condescendingly laughs at you.

"'m not fucking him, matt. you're being childish." your eyes pinch in animosity.

matt notices your hand remaining on the doorknob, "you're not gonna leave yet though? we still need to talk.."

"about what?" you cross your arms.

matt shrugs with pouted lips, "i mean, i don't know. whatever friends talk about. i haven't seen your pretty ass all night- don't want my impact to be us fussin' at each other."

"you've made a big enough impact already don't you worry." you sarcastically roll your eyes and move to go stretch out on the soft bed, “but fine we can talk, as long as you go get a few drinks for us to share.”

౨ৎ

"you can’t be serious!" he exclaims with a laugh.

"no! m' dead serious-” you adjust yourself to sit up tall on your knees, the bed dipping below you and your strawberry wine cooler in hand, “and you know me, i’m just stood there trying to fight off actual tears while this woman nitpicks my entire cake design in front of a crowd of customers, matt.” you widen your hands to exaggerate your drunken spiel, “a crowd!”

matt continues to laugh at you through his mouthful of slightly bitter beer, he swallows before tugging your arm so that you’re sat once more, “c’mere.”

after you asked that he bring drinks up to you if he expected you to stay and talk with him, matt almost immediately went to the kitchen. he left you to sit alone in the space with your thoughts, which only made you crave a drink strong enough to make you stop thinking of all the bad. you wondered what lucas was doing but that began to make you fell terrible; you sent him a text apologizing for matt’s behavior and telling him you were going home for the night but you’d enjoyed your time with him. he was kind and cool about it which you appreciated.

you accidentally topple into his chest him when you’re pulled down, but matt easily adjusts himself to hold you as if it was a perfect accident. you blink slowly as you look at him and his teeth that show only slightly with his smile.

he can’t help but move his free hand further along your body, he hasn’t held you like this in what feels like forever. “i missed you,” he admits and palms your thigh soothingly.

you just stare at him. you want to believe him so badly but even your intoxicated brain can replay andrea’s words from two nights ago through your head: “and chris told me that … matt’s been sleeping around with a few different girls over the past month and a half …”

it pains you to remember the initial shock you felt, so you take your final sip of your drink and move from his lap, taking his drink he was currently sipping from him and placing both cans on a small table in the room.

“what is it?” matt questions with his costume-clad body stretched over the length of the bed and his head propped up by his hand when you come back over to the bed.

“i know you don’t miss me, matt,” you try to sound as put together as possible, sitting yourself cross-legged and in front of him. you take off his hat to let his hair fall out and into its place, kissing at his temples.

you place the hat behind you as matt leans closer to you, placing a hand on your knee, “you don’t know anything if you think i’m lyin’…” he looks up into your droopy yet seductive eyes.

you smirk at his confidence before you lie down parallel to him, “be honest, i can handle it.” you pry. you wonder if he’d actually tell you, especially when he so obviously wants to get in your pants.

“you want honesty? hmmm…” he reaches for your hand, playing with your smooth and manicured nails, “honestly… i was pissed when i saw you with lucas earlier, i don’t think you should give him your time.” his expression is a bit serious like he truly had kept those words in his drunken mind all night. you don’t give any change in your face, tired of reiterating that you don’t care what matt has to say about your love life anymore. “and well, honestly…” he licks over his bottom lip, “you look cute as fuck as cupid tonight.”

you reluctantly smile, “wow all of that and your nose never grew.”

“i’m an honest man. your turn,” you continues to play with your hand.

“honestly… i think the indiana jones look is doing you favors.” you giggle when he displays a look of shock by your compliment, “don’t act so surprised! ‘m more shocked we haven’t kissed each other yet.” you comment.

matt blinks a few times finding the space between you two has become warmer, “pretty sure kissing is considered a friendly interaction in france,” he pulls you closer before leaning over to hold your face in his palm.

“you made that up,” you giggle and look from his intoxicating blue eyes to his pink lips.

his own laugh slips through his smooth delivery, “yeah i did but-”

you tangle your fingers through his deep brown hair as you pull his face to connect with yours, suddenly too overwhelmed with desire to let matt finish his sentence.

he lets the control stay in your hands, with his weight on top of yours and his tongue only peeking out once your lips wrap around it.

it’s hot and spit heavy collision, with both of you endlessly sucking and holding the other’s lips captive. you’re so clouded that you can’t be bothered to complain that your decorative wings are uncomfortable and poking into you.

matt’s hands reach into the bloomers you wear and pull them down slightly to grip the skin of your full hips and feel the fabric of your tiny pair of underwear. your hands continue to scratch at his scalp and hold his cheeks (at times moving to hold his neck and give tiny pulsing squeezes).

your mind is one tracked and eventually you’re fed up with waiting for matt to push past your underwear and give you what you need. you take it upon yourself to move your hand from his chiseled cheek to the space between you two, trailing down and into your shorts.

matt initially thinks you’ve gone to move into his pants but is pleasantly surprised to pull back and see you using your fingers on yourself. he hums against your ear, “mmm you’re so fucking sexy when you’re touching yourself, sun’.”

you mewl out a soft moan at his words as he lays wet kisses from your ear to your neck, where he licks and nips lightly. you move your fingers from your clit to dip into you, whining out towards the ceiling as you work them.

matt purposely places his crotch against your spread thigh to give you insight into his cravings. what he doesn’t expect is you to tell him, “fuck yourself matt- do it against my thigh,” through several breathy moans. he moves to kiss your lips and flick his tongue against your own again. when he pulls away you whisper, “please? i wanna watch you, matt.”

he punches his eyes closed and you bring your hand from your shorts up to his mouth, smearing your index and middle fingers across his lips until he opens his mouth and sucks your fingers thoroughly, attempting to give out a moan with his mouth full.

his teeth slightly graze your fingers as you pull them from him, your soft voice meeting his ears while his eyes stare admirably, “you got me all wet,” you show your damp fingers before you move them back to play with your sensitive clit.

matt’s head tilts downwards to watch you move your hand beyond the fabric, taking it upon himself to pull your pink bloomers off of you.

he watches your fingers working eagerly under your lace underwear as he unbuckles his belt as quickly as he can. he glances up at your face, with your mouth hung in an open “o” shape and your hair slightly disheveled, and can’t help but pause his undressing to kiss your cheeks harshly, making his way to your mouth for needy and rushed kisses. you remove your hand from your pleasure to finish unzipping matt’s pants and messily pushing his boxers down far enough to free his dick.

matt lets out a relieved groan at the feeling, removing his lips from you to spit on his hand and immediately wrap it around himself to release the tense pressure. matt holds onto you as he moves himself against the fullest part of your inner thigh, so close to your heat that his stomach recoils just thinking about being inside you.

his moans are just as whiney as yours when you begin to hurriedly hump into your own hand. matt’s face is smushed into the side of your face with heavy breaths and body heat adding to the tumultuous pressure in your core. “matt,” you breathe against him, “i can’t hold-”

he brings his hand to your neck, shushing you, “yeah? s’okay…”

you allow his encouragement and strained voice to aid you as you finish with shaking legs and a string of sharp moans into matt’s ear. you attempt to close your legs but matt forces them to remain wide as he adjusts his dick to lie against your soaked panties before rutting his hips pathetically against the covered area.

you whimper at the feeling and your legs jerk softly whenever his head bumps at your tired clit. you wrap your arms around matt’s neck to keep his body close to yours whispering in his ear how sensitive you are and that he needs to be gentle with you to make him moan into your mouth and promise he’ll try.

your tongue plays in his mouth as matt reaches his peak, groaning (embarrassingly loud for someone who did nothing more than jerk himself against you) and continuing his strokes as he cums on your covered cunt.

he removes himself from on top of you after a few breaths, immediately taking off your filthy underwear and exchanging them for your tiny bloomer shorts for you.

you allow him to care for you as you stare at the ceiling, your body’s sweat becoming apparent as you begin to mentally process the fact that you just participated in the one action you promised yourself (and andrea) you would not commit again. you feel weak and embarrassed where you’d normally feel bubbly and excited to get to spend time with matt after having sex.

you want to cry but you also want to yell. you want to tell matt that you wished he cared about you. you wish he would have called you again instead of taking random girls to bed. you wish he would look up from his fucking phone right now and see you pouting and saddened by what’s happened to the two of you.

you get up from your spot on the bed and walk across the room to grab one of the small pink whitney shooters lying on the dresser. as you twist the cap off you wish you were at home, with your kitten and your warm bed. matt watches you throw the shot back, coating your tongue with a sting and leaving your throat warm.

he slowly makes his way to you as you go to open the second shooter. he wraps his arms around your waist, “do you believe i missed you now?” he leans down to ask into the air next to your face.

you breathe out before taking the second shot silently, pinching your face at the awful taste.

“sunny?”

silence.

you finally turn to look at him, your eyes carry such misery that matt’s face changes from one of contentment to one of complete worry. “what’s going on?”

your mouth is downturned and your brain is foggy, “this is ruining me, matt. you’re not good for me.”

matt’s completely offended, “i’m sorry? did i just spend the last hour and a half with someone else?! what are you talking about?”

you look down at the red wood of the dresser you lean on for balance, “this all was a mistake, i can’t believe i let this happen again …”

matt can’t help but let out a laugh in disbelief, “what the fuck is happening?!” he’s concerned at this point.

“i can’t- like, explain. i’m just-” you’re the worst type of drunk at this point; you’re being a confrontational drunk yet you're too fucked up to make any sense out of what you’re trying to say.

matt rubs his head and grabs the final seltzer from next to you, “y/n,” you can hear the snap of the tab as he opens it, “should i take you to ‘drea?”

you crouch slightly and bury your head in your crossed arms, no longer fighting any tears that escape.

“baby, why are you cryin’? come here, hug me.” he taps your sides to get you to stand and let him hold onto you.

you reluctantly wrap your arms around his middle and allow him to caress your head. “i just don’t think we should do this,” you get out through a small sob.

“hey, i’m gonna get you home and then we’ll talk in the morning, okay?”

after a few moments and calmed breaths you just shake your head and remove yourself from him, letting his arms trail off of you as you walk away and grab your shoes off of the floor.

you stumble over to the bed to put the small kitten heels back on. matt watches you with his eyes and puts the slim can down before he moves close to you and squats down to be level with your feet, “are you sure you wanna put these back on?”

“i don’t need your help,” you mumble and push his hands away from your shoe.

“sunny.”

“matt, you can go!” you finally let out your frustration through yelling.

“sshhh, stop fighting me, y/n!”

you throw the shoe against the floor harder than you intend, “no! don’t tell me what to do. don’t try to treat me all fucking special i know those other girls might get jealous.”

“here we fucking go,” he sighs, “there’s literally no one else, y/n! i haven’t even talked to other chicks tonight, you’re the one who was all over someone else and i’m over that shit! we’re cool and we’re friends so there’s no fucking reason for you to be mad.”

your mouth is flat and your eyes squinted as you look down at him, “i’m talking about the ones you’ve been seeing over the past few months!”

“why’re you sayin’ shit that’s not even true?!” he’s stands upright, “i can’t deal with this shit.”

“i know it’s true!” your lips pout as you fight off crying again.

“no you don’t, because it’s not!” he walks away and begins to slip on his own boots.

“yes i do! chris told me you fucking idiot!” you point at him, letting tears pour once more. your face is crumpled and your eyes welled with salt.

matt shakes his head silently as he finishes lacing up his boots.

you wipe your eyes and slide your second shoe back on before frustratingly removing the bracelet he’d bought you only a little over a month ago for your birthday. you stand up and grab your broken lopsided angel wings from the bed, walking back over to him.

“you done?” he asks roughly.

“yeah. stay out of my life,” you coldly push the bracelet into his chest and move towards the door.

“don’t worry about it, sweetheart. don’t think we’ll need to be friends anymore!” he yells as the door slams. he looks down at the bracelet and runs his thumb over the inscribed frank ocean lyrics, then glances around at the poor shape of cameron’s guest bedroom.

“fuck!” he shouts into the air above him.

* bonus a/n: i know a party + hookup + fight sesh hates to see them coming😭😭😭. no but in all seriousness i can see the toxicity here, pls this is not normal and i know that! BUT their feelings are very complex towards each other and the idea of being loved which causes shit like this to happen to them. by the end of this story they will not be this toxic i promise growth to come lol!!!!

taglist -★

@deadxrx @saintsturn @honestlybabymiracle @starrysturniolo @st7rnioioss @cupidsword @nickmillersn1gf @sturnioloa @tcvazq @novasturniolo03 @wovenribbons @watercolorskyy @imsosillygoofylol @wh0resstuff @peachmels @h3arts4harry @imaslutforwhitemen @lovingregulusblack @sturnsintrouble @udonknowmeh12 @mattandchrismakemewett @sturnsorbit @mommykinks4matt @bluebayousblog @jetaimevous @eyelovedher89 @grimholic @graysturns @cartiiwannagotoplutoo @sturniolosreads @almondamaretto @kentahoe @blissfulbellss @streamermattsgf @mattandchrismakemewett @starringthesturniolos @moonykai @envyjust @sirenedeslily

[fioiswriting]

The sea and the fire

“Fire and water looked so lovely together. It was a pity they destroyed each other by nature.” - R.F Kuang

Summary : when you're married to your childhood sweetheart who becomes your enemy and you get lost in the terrible maze of politics.

[previous chapter] [masterlist]

Rating : None for now, will be explicit 18+ later MDNI

Pairing : Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon/Strong!niece!Reader (There will be some Cregan Stark x Reader later)

TW :  none for now except not proofread. TW will be added as the story progresses.

Words count : 4408

AN : Hi everyone!! I hope you're all doing well. So, MONTHS later, I've finally decided to post chapter 2. Sorry for the wait.

[About this story This fanfiction is inspired by an RP I started with my girlfriend (@irmawrites, go check her work) in early 2023, which is still ongoing. My girlfriend writes for her OC (who is the daughter of Viserys and Alicent) as well as for Aemond and Cregan, while I write for my OC (who is the daughter of Rhaenyra) as well as for Aegon and Cole mostly. This fanfiction doesn't cover exactly the same events, I've changed some things, added some others and omitted some. But it follows the main storyline. The character of Irma is a nod to my girlfriend and is based on another of her OCs (Alicent's niece). I'm keen to turn this story into fanfiction and I hope you'll like it! ❤️ I know there's a ton of fanfiction out there based on the Aemond x Rhaenyra's daughter trope. If you don't like it, if you feel uncomfortable, or if you've read too much of it, I'd suggest you read another fanfiction written by one of the many talented authors on this platform ❤️ The story will unfold in several arcs, with the first arc building up the relationship between the reader and Aemond. The tone is therefore lighter. The following arcs (which I can't wait to get to!!) will gradually introduce a lot more angst (my favourite thing to write). The tone will be radically different. Overall, the fanfiction will sometimes be based on elements of the book, and sometimes on the show, with my own interpretations. Please bear in mind that my dialogue will sound very "modern" because I struggle to write medieval dialogue in English, as it's not my mother tongue.]

Also English is not my first language, so sorry for the grammar mistakes !! 

After all that talk, ENJOY <3

Chapter 2 : Familiarity

There was a sense of renewed familiarity. 

You had regained your childhood bedroom and with it your landmarks. Of course, you still missed Dragonstone. And that could seem strange to some - Dragonstone was just a damp cave, a pile of stones perched on a rock. You were in King's Landing, now. You lived in opulence, in a royal comfort unmatched by the perch above the sea where you had spent most of your youth. 

But Dragonstone had a charm you couldn't find in King's Landing. Perhaps it was the stillness of the library where you spent all your time, lost among the scrolls of parchment and the thick tomes, or perhaps it was the sound of the crashing waves that rocked you on stormy nights, you weren't sure.

But somehow a sense of familiarity had returned. Your old room hadn't changed much, despite Alicent's questionable alterations to the decoration of the Red Keep. You had found an old toy in the shape of a dragon, and even some old paper on which you had practised your precise handwriting under the strict gaze of a stern Septa when you were a child. It was a memory frozen in time, a kind of testimony to the past. A room that reflected the little girl you were when you left King's Landing.

But perhaps you could change it to your liking, to reflect the young woman you had become. Perhaps it was a way of keeping you occupied before you left again. After all, your mother had promised that your stay would only be temporary. Just time to sort out some inheritance issues. Time to try and heal your family's wounds. Time to secure your family's future. As if the hope of you all rested on your shoulders; the only guarantee that your family wouldn't descend into a bloody escalation, or something like that. 

And yet, even though you'd only been here a short time, you'd already gotten into trouble, and it was Aemond himself who had to rescue you. You hated the idea.

You hated the fact that he'd come to your aid.

You hated the fact that you owed him, that you were indebted to him.

Fortunately, your little escapade hadn't been reported - you didn't want to disappoint your mother, or see the reproachful look on her face, even though you were aware that she might not be in the best position to make a comment. You were close to your mother. You were her eldest. You were her only daughter. She cherished and loved you, and you knew you could share everything with her. But you cherished your secret freedom, and you feared that her concern for her only daughter would give her the bad idea of assigning you closer supervision.

You didn't need a chaperone. You valued what little freedom your condition as a daughter afforded you.

As you slipped under the sheets, your thoughts kept returning to Aemond. The way he'd protected you, the way he'd carried you on his shoulder - it was humiliating, you weren't an object. And the way you had planted a kiss on his cheek. An impulsive act. A foolish act. You had to admit that you weren't averse to doing it again.

It just didn't make sense. Why had he come looking for you when he'd never answered your letters? He'd probably felt superior, after calling you and your brothers bastards, he'd probably decided you weren't good enough to be his friend anymore.  All this time, all these years, you'd been waiting for a word from him - a mere reply to the letters you'd sent. It never came. You concluded that your friendship had ended, in silence, after all you had done for him; after reassuring him, after holding his hand while the maester tried to repair the broken flesh on his face as best he could.

Had he really been your friend for even one day, or had it all been a facade, a role he'd played? Had he ever been sincere?

You were furious.

Rhaenyra had stroked your hair through every disappointment that gripped your heart like the loving mother she was. Daemon - Daemon had soothed you in his own way, telling you again and again that Aemond wasn't a good man, and that you would save your heart by forgetting him.

But now he had come looking for you. Something had changed. He had taken a step in your direction. You were lost. You were angry, but it was not just anger. There was something else underneath that pile of confusion and resentment. His approach unsettled you. Every step he took towards you, every word he said, sent a whirlwind of conflicting emotions through you. A burning curiosity. An irresistible attraction. 

You hated yourself for thinking it, but maybe your betrothal wasn't such a bad idea. Maybe you could retrieve the complicity of your childhood.

Maybe it had never really disappeared.

In the early hours of the morning, the smell of warm bread tickled your nose even before you felt the warmth of the sun's rays through your chamber window. You rolled onto your side to steal a few more minutes of comfort, stifling a grunt into your pillow. You waited fatefully for the moment when Celia or Jeyne would come and wake you.

"Wake up you lazy groundhog, you've got things to tell me!" 

But the high-pitched, overly cheerful voice that echoed around your room wasn't Celia's, and it certainly wasn't Jeyne's. You sat up immediately, as if someone had thrown a bucket of water over you, your fingers rubbing your tired eyes to make sure you weren't dreaming. 

Irma Hightower was standing in your room, in a gown more extravagant than ever. You wanted to throw yourself into her arms.

"It was usually me who overslept in the morning and you who had to wake me up," Irma exclaimed, placing the tray she carried awkwardly under her arm on the table with a loud clatter, causing the tea to overflow from the cup and drip onto the wooden table. "But I reckon that sneaking out seems tiring." She punctuated his remark with a knowing wink before dusting off her dress as if she'd just worked in the straw or done the most strenuous physical labour in the world.

Still too sleepy to make sense of your friend's words, you frowned as you looked around for your two handmaidens, the ones who woke you up every morning, helped you get dressed and brought you your meal. "Where are -"

"I dismissed them for the rest of the morning," Irma replied without letting you finish the sentence. That explained the tray and the near disaster. "But here's your breakfast. Gods, did you know a tray was thatheavy? " She paused briefly, barely giving you time to wake up properly.

Irma Hightower was a tornado. She swept away everything in her path - she carried away hearts and minds with equal ease, leaving a whirlwind of chaos behind her. Wherever she went, she stirred the air with unbridled energy, forcing others to adapt to her frenetic pace or be wiped out by her determination. But it would be a lie to say you weren't happy to see her. You sat down on the edge of the bed and stretched, your arms reaching for the ceiling before tilting your head to one side. A smile curved the corner of your lips as you watched your friend. You wondered what Irma was doing in your room in the early hours of the morning, especially when, last you heard, she was supposed to be in Oldtown furthering her education. 

To tell the truth, you might have had an idea why she was here. You just didn't want to subject yourself to your friend's interrogation - some secrets should remain your secrets.

And what you'd done yesterday was one of them.

"'So?" she asked with a mixture of overflowing curiosity and impetuosity, her brown curls twirling around her face.

"So what?" you sighed as you went behind your dressing screen to remove your nightgown. You slipped into a flowing ocean-blue dress adorned with pearls and embroidery - one of your favourite gowns, a creation that reminded you of your favourite element: the sea. 

Unlike your brothers, you weren't made of fire and blood. You were made of sea and storm, and you knew deep down that this was perhaps hypocritical - your own appearance reminded you of it every day. But it was what your heart had always told you, and you'd come to believe it, too. The feeling of your feet in the water and the breeze on your face, its salty taste against your lips, was the one that brought you the most comfort. 

"So what happened yesterday ?” Irma insisted. Her voice grew impatient. "I saw you.”

But you ignored her, busy wriggling to reach the lacing at the back of your dress. In vain. You weren't flexible enough. "Since you've decided to play the handmaid today, help me get dressed," you replied, appearing on one side of the screen, your hands gripping the fabric tightly, your back to her. Irma rose with a long sigh - it was just for show, you knew - and came over to you. You smiled mischievously. You had to admit that you enjoyed seeing her in this role, so opposite to who she really was. You wondered what her time in Oldtown had been like; whether she'd been treated like the spoilt brat she truly was, or whether, on the contrary, she'd had to learn patience, faith and discipline - all qualities that didn't characterise her. 

"I could actually keep you as my lady in waiting, you know. You'd be good for that. Forced to follow me everywhere, I'd love that." 

You didn't need to see her to know that she rolled her eyes. " I am the Queen's niece. I was made for more than that."

When her fingers became tangled in the lacing of your dress, she spoke again, her voice caressing the back of your ear as she tugged at the lacing with a little more force: "You haven't answered my question."

How could you forget that Irma was so perceptive? And above all, how could you forget that when Irma wanted something, it was impossible for her not to get it? You weren't going to get away. She would insist, until you fell for her angelic pout and her round eyes that tried to win you over.

It reminded you of your shared youth - the times you spent together, swapping secrets and gossip, talking about your joys and sorrows. You had been inseparable before you were forced to return to Dragonstone, and she to Oldtown. 

"Nothing happened. At least nothing like you may think," you admitted, turning to smooth the front of your dress. You whirled around, the fabric rising gently around you like a bluish wave. "How do I look?"

"I wouldn't describe being carried around like a sack of flour on your dark uncle's shoulder as nothing. Especially in your family." 

Irma inspected your outfit, her eyes expertly examining you from top to bottom and then from bottom to top, looking for the slightest detail that would have spoiled her work. She brushed away a stray strand of hair that had fallen across your face.

"Did he kiss you?" Her eyebrows arched, her mouth forming a playful pout of false surprise. She was clearly determined to decipher your every secret, to expose them. You hesitated for a moment, to cast doubt, to let her imagine more - but you were afraid of the repercussions this might have on you. You weren't sure that Irma knew how to hold her tongue. And you didn't want to risk exposing yourself to Aemond's irritation over false rumours. Not when you'd planned to play with him a bit; to prove to him that you had the upper hand, that you could have him wrapped around your little finger and drive him mad. You were still suspicious of him. You hadn't really figured him out yet. You just knew he'd changed since the last time you'd seen him, but you weren't sure how much.

"No, he didn't kiss me," you repeated, putting the same emphasis on the word as your friend. You walked over to the table to sip your still steaming cup of tea. You could feel Irma's round eyes on your back - she was waiting for you to say more. She probably had a dozen unanswered questions: why had Aemond brought you back like this? Where had you been? Who had you been with? What had you done? But you didn't answer right away, biting into the crusty bread.

"He just... came to fetch me," you finally admitted between two bites, your mouth half full - it was a far cry from the princess manners in which you'd been raised. Sitting on your bed, Irma stared at you with her brown eyes - the same as her aunt's. "I was with Aegon. In King's Landing. And I got lost."

That was enough. Irma didn't need to know everything; after all, it wasn't a lie if you only omitted certain details that you deemed relatively unimportant.

Or that Irma didn't need to know.

But the revelation provoked a silence. Your friend didn't answer immediately. Her eyes narrowed, revealing a fine line between her eyebrows, and her lips pursed into a bitter pout. She looked troubled, her fingers twitching in her lap. "I didn't know you were close to Aegon."

If you didn't know her so well, you wouldn't have detected the note of reproach in her voice. Was it jealousy? Was your friend jealous of the time you spent with Aegon?

You weren't sure you understood. He was married - and more importantly, as you remembered, Irma hated him for his debauchery and the alcohol he drank to excess. 

But this was no time to argue, and you preferred to play it safe. There would be plenty of time for your investigation later, when Irma's suspicions would be at rest. "He's my uncle and... he suggested he show me the streets of King's Landing because I was feeling bored." 

And the idea seemed liberating at the time. A moment of stolen freedom, away from the court, away from your duties. Where you were no longer the model princess, the paragon of virtue, but just another girl, lost in anonymity. You weren't sure she understood - she'd always loved the court, the gowns and the politics. You too, of course. It would be a lie to say you weren't made for it; for the life your status as a princess could offer you. You cherished the comforts and loved the responsibilities that came with your role. But sometimes those same responsibilities – and duty above all - stifled you. You needed solitude. To be somewhere else.

"It's dangerous. You could have been harmed!" Irma said, crossing her arms over her chest with an air of concern and annoyance. "You can't just follow a man like Aegon into the city," she sighed.

Some truth was hidden in her words, and you were aware of your lack of rationality, of the stupidity of your foolishness. The danger you had put yourself in, too, for if Aemond hadn't intervened... You didn't want to think about it. The dirty hands and lecherous looks those men gave you still made you shudder. All those risks for an illusory feeling of freedom, wasn't it a high price to pay?

Aemond had come for you. The humiliation still burned on your cheeks. 

"Lost in your thoughts?" Irma asked impatiently, offering you her arm as if she'd waited too long for you to come out of your reverie, "thinking about your Prince Charming again?"

You gave her a little tap on the arm, your eyes raised to the sky at the broad smile that stretched her lips, but you accepted her invitation anyway. "Fine, let's go. I heard that they are training this morning. And I know you're not indifferent to Dornish charm." You winked at her. And arm in arm, you and Irma walked through the corridors of the Red Keep towards the courtyard.

Aemond's movements were precise and swift. Faced with Ser Criston's Morningstar, he moved skilfully, as nimble as a cat. You leaned against the parapet of the ramparts; your eyes riveted on the two silhouettes that seemed to be dancing in the courtyard amidst the small crowd that had gathered around them. Irma didn't miss a moment of the spectacle, and you wondered if there was a man she didn't find charming.  Aemond, probably.  You knew she didn't bear any affection for him - he was too serious, too stern. Too scary, too.

"Did you get tired of Oldtown, is that why you're here?" you asked teasingly, glancing briefly at Irma.

She leaned towards you as if to share a secret, not taking her eyes off the show the two men were offering. "They didn't want me anymore," she confided. "I used to drive the maesters and the septas mad. It was amusing."

You should have known better. Irma was too stubborn and brash to be around men and women who had dedicated their lives to knowledge. She was intelligent, there was no denying that, but she lacked the patience and diligence that the study of texts demanded. Though she had spent her childhood in King's Landing, perfecting her courtly education at her aunt's side, her rebellious attitude had sent her straight back to Oldtown. And then, she had threatened the Maesters and the Septas - she belonged at Court and she was convinced of it.

"And how is Daeron?" 

"As courteous and charming as ever," she replied. 

Aemond disarmed Cole and everyone applauded; including Jace and Luke, who you could recognise in the crowd. Your betrothed's eyes shifted from the spot he was staring at in the crowd - your brothers? - and looked up at you for a moment. You wondered if Aemond had seen you, if he had felt your gaze on him, and if that was why he had become fiercer in his attacks. A strange sensation arose in your belly, as if a swarm of butterflies were fluttering in your stomach, making your heart beat faster.  You forced yourself to suppress your emotions, which you blamed on all the time you'd spent away from Dragonstone. You refused to admit that it was Aemond's gaze that you sought more than any other, especially after the events of the previous day. Especially when you could still feel his skin against yours, his firm hands around your body, his face just a few inches from yours.

You wondered what had possessed you to kiss him on the cheek. 

You wanted to play with him, that was certain. But you refused to subject your heart to the whims of love. Not after the heartache you'd felt when you found out he'd forgotten you so easily.

It was nothing serious.

You met Aemond's gaze. The intensity of his lilac eye had this very capacity to send shivers down your spine.  He didn't even crack a smile, and looked away as if nothing had happened.

"I'll see you later," Irma said, squeezing your arm, before turning on her heels to - presumably - find some male company. Once you were alone, you walked down the steps that led from the ramparts to the courtyard. Your steps instinctively brought you to where Aemond was standing, ready to sheathe his sword.

If he seemed surprised to see you, he didn't show it. His icy eye rested on you, unreadable as ever.

"Lady Strong."

"We should talk," you began, ignoring the unpleasant way he had just addressed you. Lady Strong. The nickname left a sting of humiliation, and under normal circumstances you would have reacted. You would have defended yourself, you would have thought of something witty to retort - but today you had decided to take a step towards peace. You had decided to show that you hadn't come here with any animosity, even though everything inside you was screaming to make him swallow his insolence.

"There is nothing to talk about," he replied mechanically. Cold. Distant. Disinterested. Syllables sharp and icy. 

But yes, there were a thousand things to talk about; the betrothal that would lead to your certain future marriage, the events of yesterday, the letters he had never answered, his hostile and cold attitude towards you. There were all these things and more, but neither of you seemed to know how or where to begin.

"About yesterday -"

"I haven't spoken a word to anyone. Your little secret is safe with me. You can rest assured, niece."

That's not what you meant. It wasn't that you wanted to talk about - it was everything around it; it was the reasons, it was how he had found out, it was the consequences, it was the kiss on his cheek, it was the thick tension between you that you were sure he had felt too. It was all these things.

You took a step towards him. Suddenly you felt yourself bubbling. And as if you'd grown wings, you closed the distance between you without looking away.

"Why?" you asked, your tone more urgent. You wanted to push him over the edge. You wanted him to admit what you knew for a fact that he would never be able to. "You could expose me. Tell everyone about my little escapades. Make me lose all credibility. End our betrothal." You paused, leaning your body towards him, your warmth mingling with his.

You felt him hold his breath. He tensed, straightening his neck, tilting his head slightly to the side to watch you.

"Why exactly would I do that, Lady Strong?"

Because you hate me, you were tempted to reply. Because you hate me, just as you hate my brothers. Because you cut me off all those years ago, without a word. And despite all the affinities that could bring you together, despite the fond memories of your shared childhood and your closeness, despite the love you harboured for him, you were loyal to your siblings, like he was to his. Whatever you did, you would always be associated with them. Your family. So wasn't it normal for him to see you as an extension of the hatred he felt for them?

At your silence, he continued, this time in High Valyrian: "I am not the one who despises the other. You know that."

Hate was nothing more than a form of passion.

But you weren't sure it was hate you felt for Aemond - no, the hate would come later, stronger, hotter than ever.  For now, you felt disappointment and a form of betrayal after the friendship that had bound you together for more than a decade. 

"I am not the one who is determined to make you my enemy." 

Enemy, like water to fire. Trying to destroy each other by nature.

"And yet, you treat me like one," you replied. Sharpness staining your voice. 

He let out a hm. He was still staring at you; the sensation was almost disturbing. He took a step in your direction, violating your breathing space. You had to lift your head to maintain eye contact. Then he leaned towards you, the corner of his lips turned up slightly in a smirk.

"I wouldn't have come to rescue you if you were my enemy."

The words barely out of his mouth, he straightened and took a step back, giving you the courtesy to walk away as your cheeks turned red. You didn't need him to remind you of what had happened yesterday. The memory was still frozen in your mind, clear and intact. The ghost of his touch like a burn. You wondered if he felt the same; if he thought about your lips on his cheek, if they had left an invisible, indelible mark on his skin, like his fingers on yours.

You had to change the subject. Quickly. Before you got caught at your own game. 

Your hand came to rest on the hilt of his sword on the table beside the training area. You lifted it. It felt heavy in your hand, still warm from Aemond's grip.

It was strange, this power in your hand. A weapon that could take a life. Too big and unsuitable for your delicate fingers, but fascinating. 

"Teach me."

"No," he replied immediately, following your every move with his icy gaze, as if he feared you might hurt yourself. You rested the heavy sword on the wooden table before turning. You approached him again.

"Daemon taught me how to use a dagger. At least he taught me where to aim to hurt." You flatten your hand against his chest, just below his ribcage. His body stiffens beneath your palm. "He said it was to protect me from dangerous men." Your gaze travelled from your hand to his eyes.

Aemond chuckled. He didn't try to push you away. On the contrary, he kept your hand pressed against him. His fingers wrapped around your wrist, and he guided your hand to his jugular, where you could feel his heart throbbing against your fingertips.

"First lesson: that is where you aim to kill." Caught off guard, you tried to withdraw your hand, but Aemond held it in place, your fingertips on his skin, your eyes both searching and challenging each other. The air was charged. Tense. Like a cloud before a storm. You held your breath. "But you wouldn't dare hurt a fly."

He released your wrist and gripped your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to step back until your back hit the table. He leaned in. His face so close to yours that you could almost feel his warm breath melting into yours. A few inches and you could close the gap between your lips. A few inches and -

"Well, niece. I hope to see you for dinner. And, of course, I expect you to behave."

With that he released you. With that, he turned on his heel. 

He stopped. And without looking back, he added: "And please. Don't make a habit of me saving you. 

Well, you were evenly matched.

[estcaligo]

Sebek's voice

tw - suicide attempt, suggestive paragraph, Prefect is unstable, Sebek is angry

- I had made a more lighthearted version, but decided to change it. - I don't think it is truly x reader, more like x oc, but it is still a prefect and still a part of my series.

It's been raining for three days already.

But today, the weather decided to go all out - a full-blown storm. Trees bent under the howling wind, rain swallowed everything in sight. It was too much for November, you thought. Luckily, you didn't have any outdoor lectures today, and the lightning started right after you reached the main building.

Speaking of lightning...

Now that you think about it, the quarrel was so stupid. You can't even remember what exactly started it. Words flew back and forth, escalating until, somehow, it's been more than two weeks since you and Sebek last spoke.

You know it was your fault. You know you overreacted, said too much, maybe. But you were just so tired, so overwhelmed. So much had been happening, and... you should have chosen your words more carefully. But it's too late now.

Everything is hazy from that day, except for Sebek's voice. It was raw - cracking, even though he was almost shouting, more than usual. You remember the sound of that pain clearly.

And it's all you have now. 

Only now, with his booming voice gone from your daily life, you realize how empty it feels around you. Sure, you hear him in the corridors sometimes, calling out to Malleus, or in the cafeteria while you eat.

But none of it is directed at you. Since the day you became... more than friends, you'd claimed his shouts, his "human!" as something reserved just for you. His yelling was yours. His scolding was yours. His huffs were yours. His worried reprimands were yours, and yours alone.

And now, you've ruined it.

Both of you are too proud to apologize first, so you dwell in the silence that stretches between you now. It's not like you don't hear him - it's that you don't feel it anymore. Without him speaking to you, it's as if you've gone deaf. Ace and Deuce have to call your name more than once to drag you out of this limbo, but it doesn't matter. What's the point of listening to the world if you can't hear his voice?

Loud or quiet, harsh or gentle - Sebek's voice always made you feel something. Calm, safe, shattered, mad, confident, soft, light, warm...

When you were sobbing in your ramshackle bedroom, his voice dragged you back to reality. When you were down, surrounded by darkness in your head, his thunderous tone jolted you like lightning, forcing you to pull yourself together. When you hesitated because of past failures, his shouts were the push you needed to act without fear. 

Sebek's loud presence took away all fear in your life. Of sounds, of memories, of love, of yourself. 

Because of Sebek, you also stopped being afraid of storms. Thunderstorms used to bring back sounds you'd rather forget, but Sebek changed that. Now, you crave the clash of thunder and the flash of lightning because they remind you of him.

The way he speaks, the way he yells, the way he scolds you... his voice is louder than any storm, and it's become your favorite sound. 

It echoes in the walls of your mind, crawls under your skin, blankets your thoughts in a haze of rain and static, and resonates all over inside out. When he comes for another scold, going on and on, coming closer and closer, and becoming quieter and quieter - words dropping from a roar to a murmur until all you can hear are the breaths you share in the dark, intertwining until you can't differentiate between your moans and his, merging in a symphony of sounds shared only between you-

"Louder. I can't hear you."

A sudden clash jolts you out of your daze. You blink, realizing you've dozed off on the couch in the Ramshackle lounge, a book - which Sebek lent you - almost falling from your lap. For a split second, you thought you heard him, but it was just thunder. It's raining again. 

You sit up, the book slipping from your fingers as you clutch your head.

"Not you. Again." you whisper, not noticing the tears slipping down your cheeks. You stare blankly out the window as the lightning streaks across the sky.

"Still not you. You're brighter. Louder."

Sebek is brighter than any lightning, louder than any thunder. What is this mockery? Like you don't deserve to hear the real thing - your Sebek - just these dim imitations...

"Pathetic human" you imagine Sebek would say. And he'd be right.

You don't want it to be a text, so you record a voice message.

"I love you. I'm sorry."

You can't hear his voice, but at least he can hear yours - one last time.

The storm only gets worse, but you're glad. The noise means no one will notice, not for a while. From where you stand on the roof of NRC, you can see the whole campus spread out like a map below you. A few months ago, Malleus showed you this hidden spot - tucked behind the gargoyles, yet easily accessible - so you could admire them together. You never thought you'd be here now, misusing this knowledge in the worst way.

"What am I doing wrong?" you whisper into the rain.

"Please, shout at me like you always do. Wake me up with your thunderous roar. Call me an insolent human, make me ashamed of myself... like I should be.

Say something....please...I want to hear you...I need to hear you again.

I need to hear your voice.

You are my voice of reason.

You have always been my voice of reason, my sound of hope... 

Please. Seb. Please."

Nothing.

Well, then - into the silence you go.

You take a step forw-

"YOU DAMN FOOLISH HUMAN!!!"

Green lightning fills your vision, a deafening roar shakes the world. Your vision goes white, and before you can react, strong arms wrap around you, squeezing so tightly you can't breathe. Everything is a blur, your senses reeling from the storm's chaos and the rage vibrating in his voice.

"I'M TALKING TO YOU! HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?! LOOK AT ME! I SAID LOOK AT ME!"

His voice sounds so close yet so far, you can feel his breath on your skin. You try to reach him with your hand but-

"Sebek..." is all you manage before darkness pulls you under.

You wake in your room at Ramshackle, body trembling with cold. How long had you been standing there, soaked? It doesn't matter. You turn your head, seeing Sebek at your bedside, fury and worry twisting his face.

"Woke up already?" he snaps, voice low and angry. Really angry.

But he's here. He's with you. He's talking to you. It's all that matters.

"Sebek...I'm sorry..."

"YOU BETTER BE!" he thunders, the force of his voice filling the room.

"You'd better have a damn good explanation, or I'll make sure you don't move without my supervision for the rest of your life!" he hisses, quieter but no less angry.

"It was stupid. I'm sorry for making you worry..."

"LIKE YOU SHOULD BE!" he yells again, and you can see it now, the fear beneath the anger. You're such a fool.

"Prepare yourself for a long lecture, you hear me?!" he demands.

Without thinking, you get up and reach for him, pulling him into a tight embrace, face buried against his neck.

"Yes. Yes, I can hear you. And I want to hear that lecture. Please. 

I love hearing your voice."

[tsukimefuku]

THE FOODIES & GOODIES EVENT MASTERLIST — JUJUTSU KAISEN

Bento Box Blunder (by @pmpmyread) Pairing/Characters: Kento Nanami x f!Reader Tags/cw: None, barring the gratuitous mentions of food. Summary: You’d always admired Kento Nanami from a distance, even harbouring a small crush on him, sentiments you’d only allowed yourself to indulge within the safe sanctuary of your discretion. Then one day, you stole his lunch.

-

Tuna Mayo (by @redlikerozez) Pairing/characters: Inumaki Toge x gn!Reader Tags/cw: Canon typical descriptions of violence, dealing with loss of limb, probably inaccurate description of making rice balls. Summary: Inumaki Toge tries to make rice balls in the aftermath of Shibuya. Reader helps him out. Or an Inumaki Toge-centric fic about dealing with the events of Shibuya while also being absolutely whipped for GN!Reader.

-

Get that bread, Sir (by @rahuratna) Characters: Nanami Kento. Ijichi Kiyotaka. Tags/cw: fluff, comedy. Summary: One assistant. One sandwich. One ruthless adversary in the quest for quality bread.

-

Love you a latte (by @kentocalls) Pairing/characters: Fushiguro Toji x f!Reader Tags/cw: Fluff. Summary: Lazy mornings with Toji and a passion for coffee.

-

Lollipop kiss (by @tsukimefuku) Pairing/characters: Kusakabe Atsuya x gn!Reader Tags/cw: comedy, fluff, this man is completely clueless but reader isn’t making things any easier. making out and happy ending. there is a bartender very invested in the drama. a little suggestive if you squint. Summary: your workplace crush, kusakabe, is pretty dense when it comes to romance, so you try to ease things out with a bag of lollipops.

-

My Cinnamon Girl (by @actuallysaiyan) Pairing/characters: Nanami Kento x f!Reader Tags/cw: smoking, general fluff Summary: Kento is your regular customer and one night when he really needs you, he ends up finding you outside smoking and you offer him some pastries.

-

Love you a waffle lot, you know? (by @senseifupa) Pairing/characters: Higuruma Hiromi x f!Reader Tags/cw: sfw with smoochin, fluff, established relationship, soft Hiromi. Summary: Hiromi and you share warm moments over waffles.

-

My "Batter" Half (by @seireiteihellbutterfly) Pairing/characters: Nanami x f!Reader Tags/cw: saw, fluff, cuteness. Summary: You decide to make one of your favorite South Indian recipes while accompanied by Nanami.

-

Good Enough to Eat (by @fattybattysblog) Pairing/characters: Mahito x Female Original Character Tags/cw: Smut, inappropriate use of food and cursed techniques, temperature play, Mahito is his own content warning. Summary: "Can't I just visit a friend?" he asked slyly. "We'd have to be friends first," she grumbled. Mahito's laughter echoed through the room, a sound that made Hairi's skin prickle. He sat upright and rested his arm on his knee. "Touché," he said, licking another drip of ice cream. "But, you know, we're not so different. We could be friends." Hairi raised an eyebrow. "Friends don't usually show up unannounced and uninvited." "Isn't spontaneity the spice of life?" he leaned forward, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Besides, I think we both know there's more between us than just animosity." She scoffed, taking a defiant bite of her own cone. "In your dreams." "Actually... in yours," he purred, his gaze lingering on her lips.

-

Egg Fried Rice (by @tiny-wooden-robot-fics) Pairing/characters: Geto Suguru x Original Female Character Tags/cw: Fluff, Mentions of food and alcohol, Flirting, Pre-established friendship, Geto and OC are roommates, There is some suggestiveness near the end, This is part of a series Summary: “I was,” she admits, “but I realized I didn’t feel like working out tonight and decided to make greasy food instead.” She raises an eyebrow, taking his spoon from him and helping herself to his bowl of fried rice. “And anyway, I’m allowed to eat and drink whatever I want, Suguru.” “The point of cooking enough for both of us is so we can each have our own… is it not?” He looks pointedly at the spoon in her hand.  “It tastes better when I take it from you,” she laughs. She holds a spoonful of rice up to his mouth. He hesitates only for a moment before letting her feed him.  “You’re definitely different,” he chuckles once he’s done chewing. He doesn’t realize he’s said the words aloud until she goes quiet, her brown eyes wide and staring. 

[random-fandom1984]

Hi!! 😆

May I request TFP Yandere Soundwave x human reader?

Thank for reading this (ง ͠° ͟ل͜ ͡°)ง✨

Sorry if it doesn't have that much yandere as you were hoping for.

Okay, so, the only way I can see that you could've gotten his attention is either you're related to one of the three human charges – family or friend. Because of that, you don't know about the Autobots and Decepticons.

Soundwave was given the mission to find out more about the human pets, through humans that are close to them. Out of all of their family and friends, he chose you.

He only went through some of your info, and you're a friend of Miko's host parents that lives in a state up north, in Gravity Falls, Oregon (Yes, I'm making a little crossover with GF, but TFP came out 2 years before Gravity Falls existed, so Weirdmageddon hasn't happened yet, nor have the Pine Twins visited yet.)

You've met Miko a few times when you've came to visit, and it's best to say you don't like how loud, irresponsible, foolish, and doesn't understand people's boundaries. You were a rather quiet introverted person, and she was an overbearing extrovert, so you two didn't mix well.

When it was Christmas last year, they were at your family gathering, and she almost got your cousins hurt with firecrackers, who were mainly toddlers and young children. She even said, quote-unquote, that "They needed to live a little and not have helicopter parents deciding everything for them." The thing was that your aunts and uncles weren't helicopter parents, they were normal, calm, and understanding parents!

Miko was one of the main reasons why you lost faith in humanity, and you despised her with a burning passion. You even told this to her in her face, but she would say that you're just grumpy and should take a nap. As if you were a little child that didn't know better!

You work as an online artist that takes request for people who can't draw certain things like, animals, details, DND characters, Oc's etc.

As time went on, he was starting to get obsessed with learning more about you, and he knows more about you than anyone else you know in your life. Your favorite animal are birds, your favorite color is d/s/f/c (Dark Shade of Favorite Color), you hate people, don't like talking, have a pet European Starling named Jermey, after the crow in the Secret of Nimh because of his love for shiny and sparkly things, who is also the model for your watermarks on your designs, you like dying your hair, and so much more.

You were having a normal day, doing a live stream as you were taking requests from your viewers, when this one person in particular to do a city made out of metal, the people are robots that can transform, and even gave you an image that they "made" that was called Kaon. Interested, you took up this challenge.

It was safe to say that Soundwave wasn't disappointed with the end results of it; It looked magnificent. The image of his home was nostalgic of the good old days of Cybertron, when it wasn't just him and Laserbeak, when all of his children minicons were still alive.

The two of you kept in contact and became friends on the internet. You would tell each other about how your days went; you were told that he works as one of the higher ups in a company, has to deal with an annoying, loud, arrogant assistant of his boss – reminds you of a certain someone –, has a pet bird, is introverted, doesn't talk, doesn't like humanity- you're already hooked.

You turned a blind eye to things, like how he somehow knows where you live, find out about private accounts on social media, knows that you're talking to someone even when there's barely any people around, kind of seeming jealous/overprotective over text. The hardest one to do is when someone insults or steals your art, only to end up severely or lightly wounded somewhere between the next day to the end of the week, saying that a robot version of Slenderman or a metal bird that has an origami themed shape, etc.

There were a few things that caught your attention. How he uses the wrong terminology for things such as units time, parts of the body, even saying organics, fleshies, humans instead of people or others by their names. You were suspicious but brushed it off every time it happens.

At the beginning of Soundwave's his sire growing obsession, Laserbeak didn't even understand what was so great about you. But it changed when he was shot down by Autobots and landed out in the woods, you found him, and repaired him. During his stay, he made friends with Jeremy, and during repairs, you were gentle as you could be when fixing him up, your touched were light, you asked if what you were doing was alright, and he honestly thought of those human films where the mother would help their child when they get an injury. In this situation, he was your the child, and you were his the mother; he understood now.

Knowing Laserbeak's existence was the reason why it was a little hard to turn a blind eye to those that were injured.

When Laserbeak returned, he gave the information to Soundwave, and that's when Soundwave knew that you were the one to complete the family.

When the both of you actually met face-to-face is when you texted him that an ex of yours came back is so persistent on getting back together and won't leave you alone. When it was night, your ex cornered you, and was ranting on and on about how you should be grateful that he's giving you a second chance, even though you were the one to break up with him, only to end up dead on the pavement. You looked up to see Soundwave himself.

The first thought that came to mind didn't revolve around fear. No! It was 'Oh, god, he looks hot-'

So, you were taken aboard the Nemesis, you became a part of the Con Crew. 1.) Because you're close, in a way, to one of the Autobot's human pets; 2.) You hated humans just as much as they did; 3.) It's Soundwave. Megatron trusts him with any decision of his. A reason Soundwave gave, in public? A human to spy on the Autobots- Shut the fuck up random Vehicon, this is a human spy, not Makeshift. This isn't like Starscream's plan.

This happened only a day after Optimus Prime became Orion Pax. Soundwave had a feeling that something might happen, so he had you wear something that will cover up everything, mainly your head/face. He knows the archivist is smart, and if he were to revert back to Optimus, then he would recognize who you are.

Often times, some Vehicons would make comments about a human joining the ranks, or try to get rid of you, and they were met with an electric end.

It was only about a week later, after Orion became Optimus again, when they decided how they were going to get you in their base, and with the help of the newly arrived Dreadwing, they can do just that.

Part 2 coming soon...

So, basically this was a yandere x willing reader. I just hope you're satisfied.

[iguessweallcrazyithinktho]

Maybe a clingy and needy joel x reader smut please 😊 he can't take his hands off her and he can't stop fucking her, thank you so much ❤

Answer me • Joel Miller

Request?: Yes

PAIRING: Joel Miller x f reader

GENRE: smut

WARNING: nsfw, unprotected sex, mention of drugs that's it tho, cursing oc

Masterlist coming someday

Enjoy

It’s been a couple of hours and Joels hands were still All over you. Your sweaty bodies were pressed against each other as you kissed for what felt like the millionth time.

You were like a drug to Joel, the antidote to his life. He craved your soul and your body more than anything in this world. Joel couldn’t get enough of you especially after he’s been gone from you for a bit of time.

Joel pulled away from your lips.

“fuck, I can’t get enough of you.” He muttered to you. One His large hand gripped your right thigh as he prepared to enter your aching heat for the 3rd time that night. You hissed softly at his fingers coming in contact with the beard burns on your inner from the action earlier that night, but it was replaced with a gasp as he felt his tip against your core.

“fuck.” You whined. Your back arched off the bed.

Joel pressed his lips behind your ear before licking a strip up your neck.. you moaned softly at the feeling but fuck, you needed more of him so badly.

“Joel please fuck me.”

A rough chuckle came from Joel. “don’t worry I will.”

He pushed into you. Your pussy stretched at his length entering you. No matter how many times you have had sex with Joel you never adjusted it.

You moaned out in pleasure.

Joel hand left your thigh and turned to your breast. He twisted your pebbled nipple between his fingers making you hiss.

A couple seconds later his length pushed into you. Due to you already being sensitive from the other two orgasms your walls fluttered around him.

Thrust after thrust Joel filled you. You tired your best not to be too loud but the feeling was too good.

“you like that huh? Like when I fill your pretty pussy?” Joel whispered in your ear. You tried to answer but it was all too much for you.

“No! Answer me.” Joel demanded. “tell me if you like it.”

Just as you were about to choke out a yes, Joel somehow thrust into you faster than before.

“Fuck Joel.” Tears were spilling from your eyes. You were starting to feel Joel in your tummy. It wouldn’t be long before you were coming to your orgasm.

“still having answered me.” Joel hand Left your breast, his hand snaked down in between your legs to your clit. He drew circles on them.

You hissed. The knot was starting to grow in your lower stomach at everything that was happening.

“im not letting you come till you answer me. “you like when I fill you up, make you cum around my cock hm?”

“Fuck.” You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to find the words.

“y-yes! Yes I love it Joel.”

You came soon after those words spilled from your lips. Joel didn’t stop, instead he keep thrusting until he empty out in to you with a grunt.

Both your panting filled the room. Joel pulled out of you. You groaned at the emptiness but settled when you felt Joel’s soft kisses on your shoulders.

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close against his body. You both stayed silent for a few minutes just soaking up the moment between you two.

After a while you decided you were going to get up. You pulled Joel’s arms away from you and got up.

“where you going.” Joel asked. “im going to the bathroom. Gotta use it.” You laughed as Joel gave you a disgusted look.

“ok hurry up.” He sighed pulling the thin sheets over his body “I need to cuddle you so I can sleep.”

“Ok” you snickered and walked out of the room to the bathroom to do your business so you can return quickly to your needy man.

[wintfleur]

just a little stella and rutgar fluff please i miss them ☹️

ꔫ sugar cookies and peppermint chapstick

°. — pairings ( Estella Hughes oc! X Rutger McGroarty )

°. — details ( g; so much fluff! w; kissing, I think that’s all. wc; 1.9k )

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes (MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE! HOPE YOU HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY! 🎄Thank you so much for requesting this! I genuinely had so much fun writing this, definitely one of my favorite things I’ve ever written! There just so cute! I hope you enjoy it! Please don’t be a silent reader!! )

°. — I KNOW RUT IS IN SWEDEN BUT FOR THE SAKE OF THE FIC JUST PRETENDED HES NOT 🫶🏻

°. — ( feel free to send any requests of things you would like to see in this series, or if you just want to share some thoughts! I would absolutely love that! Please comment if you would like to be added to the tag list! )

au masterlist — you can find asks under #💌stellahughes!

°. — asks about stella and rut are under #⋆ ˚｡⋆୨🩷୧˚ stella & rut!

“How are you so good at that?” Rutger asked his girlfriend as he took a break from stirring the ingredients for some more sugar cookies, letting go of the plastic spatula to stretch his sore fingers from mixing. His eyes were trained on Stella who stood at the island, leaning forward as she carefully piped icing onto the batch of sugar cookies the couple had made earlier. 

The couple were alone at her brother's lake house, her brothers, their friends and her parents all out doing last minute Christmas shopping. The house was filled with the wonderful aroma of some Christmas candles Ellen had bought and the smell of the many batches of cookies they had made. If you looked outside the windows, you would see everything was covered with snow. And the faint sound of Christmas music playing from the radio on the counter made the home feel even more lovely. 

Stella stood straight and rolled her shoulders to ease them from being hunched over for so long, setting down the white icing bag on the counter and tilting her head to smile at him “Many years of practice, me and Luke were the only ones my mom would trust with helping her” stella scooped up the small drop of icing almost dropping out of the piping bag with her finger, bringing it up to her mouth to suck it off, smiling cheekily at rutger “Quinn and jack always ate all the ingredients. 

“You mean they were the ones that would get caught” Rutger laughed as he went back to mixing the dry ingredients, after they added the wet ingredients, he would soon have to use his hands. Stella laughed and moved away from the island, her slippers shuffling against the floorboards of the kitchen as she moved to stand next to him at the counter next to the oven. She leaned against his left side, resting her chin on his shoulder after she placed a soft kiss on his gray short sleeve clad shoulder. Her eyes glanced down at his flexing forearm from mixing before looking up at him with her brown doe eyes “Exactly.”

Rutger looks away from the Christmas themed mixing bowl and to his girlfriend, he gets lost in her enchanting eyes for a few moments before he gives her a small smirk “My sneaky girl” Stella feels her cheeks instantly warm up at the way he uttered his words. He felt his smirk turn to a grin when he noticed the way her cheeks flushed, Stella bumped her hip into his before stepping back from him. She refuses to walk into his trap and decides to go back to working on the cookies, not before landing a nice slap on his ass. Giggling quietly to herself at the sound of surprise leaving his lips. 

Rutger turns his head to look back at her, ready to complain how it's not fair that she can slap his ass, but he can't slap hers, she had made it clear before they got to the lake house that they can't be as touchy at the house. Stella already had her back faced to him as she looked down at the island, picking up a tree cookie cutter and a stocking one. “Christmas trees or stockings next?” 

“Christmas trees” Rutger picked between the two, knowing that she wants to do Christmas trees next by the way she said it. Stella smiles widely at his choice and sets the tree cookie cutter to the side while she puts the stocking one back in the bag with all the other cookie cutters the family had collected over the years. She cheerfully replies “Great choice” Rutger laughs and starts adding the wet ingredients, making sure to check the laminated piece of paper that had the family sugar cookie recipe. Stella took baking very seriously. 

The couple spent the next ten minutes or so singing along to the Christmas music playing, Stella finishing decorating the cookies and Rutger finishing up mixing the last batch of cookies. While rutger washed his hands from the access cookie dough from his hands, Stella started to roll the dough flat on the marble island, struggling to roll out the dough thoroughly. Rutger dry's his hands off with a towel, it of course being Christmas themed. He moves from the sink and stops to stand behind Stella, his chest pressing against her back as he moves his arms around her to take the dowel style rolling pin from her tired hands. 

Stella smiles and leans back against her boyfriend, his body heat comforting her, feeling the vibration of him humming along to the song on her back. Stella grinned when she noticed that she didn't have to remind Rutger how thin the dough should be rolled out, he had remembered. She tilts her head to look at his side profile, his eyes focused down as his arms flexed and rolled out the dough. She placed a kiss under his jaw, the action immediately making his cheeks flush. 

“What was that for?” Rutger mumbled shyly. 

“What do I need a reason to kiss my boyfriend now?” Stella sassily answered him with a question, raising her eyebrow to emphasize her words. Rutger laughs at her sassiness and places a soft kiss on her temple “Never.” 

“Oh, I love this song!” Stella excitedly exclaimed, startling her boyfriend for a moment from the loud reaction. Rutger doesn't even have to be asked, he moves one of his arms to let her move out from between him and the island, already knowing what she wants. Stella basically skips over to the radio and turns the volume knob to the right, the song getting louder. The very familiar song “Mistletoe” by Justin Bieber fills up the kitchen.  

Rutger tore his eyes from the dough and stopped his hands, a grin on his lips as he watched Stella sway her hips and sing along to the song. She looked so pretty she was wearing green plaid pajama pants that matched with his red ones, she was wearing one of his umich sweaters that looked so big on her, and her hair was in a braid, messy from sleeping in it last night. Her face was bare, and she of course had her grinch slippers on her green sock covered feet. God he was so in love with her. 

“I love you” Rutger voiced loudly over the music, Stella stopped her swaying and turned to face a dimpled smile on her face. Stella stepped closer to him, rutger not flinching when her cold hands cupped his face, he was already used to her cold touch. They both closed their eyes when Stella leaned her face closer to his, rutger leaning down a little to capture her soft lips in a kiss. He’s welcomed by the taste of her peppermint ChapStick, and he eagerly continues the kiss, wanting to taste more. Before he could let go of the rolling pan and move his hands to hold her hips, she pulled her lips away. Rutger fluttered his eyes open, his eyes staring into hers as she whispered, her tone filled of love “I love you more.” 

“We're just missing the mistletoe” he whispered back, his tone playful as he glanced up at the ceiling above them before back down at her. His heart was racing from the kiss, he would never get used to the feeling he felt from kissing stella. Her eyes sparked and she giggled, her tone playful but serious at the same time “Don't worry, I made Quinn buy some. Trust me we will be utilizing it a lot.” 

He kept up his playful tone as he laughed out a response “Oh tons.” 

“So, what Christmas movie should we watch this time?” Stella asked as she plopped down on the living room couch, in her hand was the remote as she turned the tv on. Rutger followed her into the living room, being careful not to trip over her slippers by the couch and set the two steaming mugs of hot chocolate that they had just gotten finished making, on the snow globe coasters that were on the coffee table. He plopped down on the couch next her, lifting her legs for them to rest over his lap. His warm hands already absentmindedly tracing shapes on her covered legs. 

The couple had just put the last batch of cookies in the oven, well Rutger did since stella’s fear of the oven was still very much real! 

“We never did finish the polar express last night” Rutger reminded her, resting his head back against the couch. The couple had started the movie, but they were quick to fall asleep cuddled up in Stella's bed, tired from the long day where they played in the snow with her brothers and their friends. Stella hums in response and goes to her profile on max to resume the movie. 

Stella pressed resume on the movie and adjusted her position to move closer to her boyfriend, her legs still draped over his lap, now her head resting on his shoulder and holding onto his arm. Stella’s eyes were trained on the tv as he watched the movie, but Rutger couldn't find himself focusing on the movie, instead his eyes were trained down at her face. Stella was so into the movie that she didn't feel his stare. 

Rutgers' heart soured with love as he looked down at his girlfriend, thinking of how wonderful it has been being here with her. It was awkward at first, because of the situation with Luke and Jack but they apologized, and Stella made it all worth it. It felt so domestic to be at her home and baking with her, doing family things, he loved it so much. Seeing her so happy with her family and the Christmas spirit she had. He just found himself falling even more in love with her as the trip goes on. 

Rut moved his left hand from her calf and moved to cup her cold cheek, gently tilting her head to look up at him. As soon as they made eye contact, Rutger leaned down to lock her lips in an eager kiss, both of their eyes closing as their lips touched. Their lips moved perfectly against each other as if they had been kissing for years, the taste of her peppermint ChapStick flowing through his senses in the best way. Stella was a little surprised by the sudden kiss, but she was quick to tilt her body more to face him better, letting him lead the kiss. 

They didn't know how long they had been kissing for, both of them pulling away a few times from the passionate kiss to catch their breath before quickly jumping back into the kiss. Rutgers hands rubbed her sides while Stella's hands rested on his chest and shoulder as their tongues moved against each other, taking advantage of the empty house to make out on the couch without the fear of getting caught. Just as he moved one of his hands under her sweater, she abruptly pulled away from the kiss at the sound of the alarm going off. 

“The cookies are ready!” Stella exclaims, quickly moving her legs from his lap and sliding her feet into her slippers before rushing into the kitchen. Rutger groaned at the interruption, throwing his head back against the couch as he caught his breath from the kiss, his mind exploring the thought of them letting the cookies burn and continue. He heard Stella call his name from the kitchen, knowing that she would need him to get the cookies out. He licks his lips tasting her peppermint ChapStick on his lips before getting up from the couch and making his way to the kitchen. 

“Coming pretty girl.” 

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( I literally wrote this in like a hour at 3 am listing to Christmas music in my bed, actually shocked! I loved this so much!! WHY ARE THEY SO PERFECT??? Again!! Please don’t be a silent reader, I love to hear your guys thoughts, reblogs are appreciated! )

°. — taglist ( @privatemythss @bradenschneider @cixrosie @toasttt11 )

[hwaslayer]

project: make you love me (jyh) | thirteen.

♣︎ spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: yunho can’t stand how you’re so wrapped up in the notorious campus fuckboy, park seonghwa. he would gladly love you the way you deserve, despite being shy, awkward and the complete opposite of seonghwa. thus, when he finds himself spending more time with you over literature reviews and random study sessions, he decides to take on the challenge to win you over.

—pairing: jeong yunho x f. reader x park seonghwa

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers/friends to lovers, college au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 5.9k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing/mature language, date with yunho!! 🥰, yunho and oc talk a bit about family dynamics, oc meets his mom and aunt <33, just a sprinkle of seonghwa, lots of sweet kisses, making out, breast play, unprotected sex, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, clit play, teasing, a lil bit of a handjob, multiple orgasms (2 lol), praising, post-sex cuddles!, sorry if i missed anything - quickly edited 😅

"Why are you doing that?" Yunho laughs, grabbing at your hand and giving it a gentle squeeze from the driver's seat to prevent you from fiddling with your fingers even more.

"I'm nervous." You pout and Yunho can't help but squish your cheeks.

"It's gonna be fine." Yunho smiles before shifting his attention back to the road. "Mom couldn't stop texting me about how excited she was to finally meet you."

"Me?" You ask him, almost in disbelief. "What if she sees me and she changes her mind!"

"She won't. She wouldn't do that over—" Yunho pauses and you can see the tip of his ear turn red, a faint rosy tint also creeping up to the surface of his cheeks.

"Over?"

"Nevermind."

"Hey, that's not fair." You playfully pinch him on the bicep, making him chuckle in his response. "Say it, Jeong Yunho."

"Not the government name." You glare at him and he shakes his head in defeat. "I was just gonna say she wouldn't do that over someone I'm sure about." Your eyes widen at the response before you smile and giggle.

"You mean that?"

"Of course I do." He laughs, placing a kiss on the surface of your hand. "So trust me when I say don't worry, okay? They'll adore you."

"Okay." Your bottom lip pokes out a bit. Today, Yunho was taking you on a date. To where? He wouldn't tell you. He wouldn't budge, no. But, you do know you're meeting his mom and aunt over a small dinner at the house, your nerves running wild since the moment you've hit the road. It's been awhile since your last relationship, and you really, really adore Yunho.

You don't wanna mess this up.

You are in love with him, and you hope they like you just like he promises they will. You are already hoping to build a good relationship with them, especially if you plan to be around. You can't help but think of your own mom and sister, hoping you'll be able to be plan something soon for them so they can officially meet Yunho in the right circumstances.

Since you're in Yunho's hometown, you aren't too familiar with what's around. You keep your eyes fixed on the scenery passing you by, listening to Yunho softly hum to the music in the background while he continues to drive off to the first destination. He seems to be taking you to the outskirts, driving deeper to the point where the small city fades into the back while the greenery begins to take over. He has to drive on a narrow path before he's navigating through a beaten, dirt path and into a lot that is surrounded by apple trees.

"Yunho." You continue to look out the window as he pulls into a spot in between two trees, a few other cars lining down the aisle.

"Yes?" He shuts off the car and unbuckles his seatbelt, looking at you with a sly smirk on his face.

"What're we doing?"

"Apple picking." You squeal and clap your hands, no longer able to contain your excitement. You had briefly mentioned going fruit picking to Yunho, stating it as a bucket list item of yours. He swings your door open to help you out of the car before leading you to the bins to place your apples in. Yunho hands you one, pleading for you to try and not fill it up too much so the bin doesn't get too heavy. He leads you down the open trail, already picking at a few nice apples along the branches. You stick closer to the ones in close proximity to your height, eyes lighting up every time you're able to snag a pretty one off the branches.

"Aw, I love this." You giggle, picking a few more off of the nearby branches. "They all look too pretty to eat."

"I know. I'm grabbing a few for my mom and aunt." Yunho effortlessly grabs a few off the taller branches, placing them gently into the bin. "Wanna save some for your mom and sister?"

"Just a few. I'm not even sure when if I'll see them in time. Otherwise Soobin, Chaery and Seungmo can eat them." He smiles.

"Sounds like a plan. Are they around for break?"

"In and out. I think the person who is staying here the most is Soobin. Chaery and Seungmin have a couple of plans with their families."

"Mm."

"What about Yeo?"

"He'll mostly be at the apartment." He caresses your chin. "What about you?"

"Ah, my family isn't big on doing things. We'll celebrate for the holidays but that's all." 

"You should. I'd love to meet your mom and sister again.. under better circumstances." You laugh.

"You will." You and Yunho continue to walk down the path, each stopping to take photos of each other under the crisp, afternoon sunlight. Once you're satisfied with the amount of apples in your bin, you take them to the weighing scale and pay for the apples before grabbing a small snack of freshly baked apple fritters and tea. You and Yunho sit at a picnic table to enjoy the sun slowly settling below the horizon. Yunho shows you his new lockscreen while you eat; a picture of you holding an apple next to your cheek while you cutely smile. 

"You're really cute." He smiles at his phone just before tossing his wrappers into the trash can. 

"You take the best photos of me. You sure you aren't into photography or anything?" He shakes his head.

"No. Just like taking pictures of you, thats all." You blush. "We should probably get going. There's one more place I wanna take you before we head to my house for dinner."

"Where?" He smirks.

"It's just 15 mins away. I think you'll like it. We'll only be there for an hour since the event is gonna end soon."

"Hm, okay Yunho. Surprise me some more." You tease with a giggle.

"I will." He kisses you on the temple before holding your hand and heading back to the car. The sun hasn't completely set yet, but the skies are filled with orange and red hues as you continue to drive along to your next destination. Yunho drives off to a nearby park that holds rollerskating events in the evening, except tonight would be its last night before it's converted to an ice skating rink. Yunho talks a bit about how he spent a lot of time at this park with his friends when he was young, and how they've done a lot to make the park nicer over the years. Now, they hold plenty of events that bring the community together. 

When he pulls into another lot, you can already hear the music blaring from within the park. It's muffled due to the trees surrounding the area, but the park is well lit even though the sun hasn't fully set. There are string lights hanging from tree to tree, even around the picnic tables that are planted around the area. As Yunho continues to walk down the path, you see a circular rink where people are rollerskating. There is a DJ blasting music off to the side, and a booth where you can rent skates.

"Rollerskating?" Your eyes light up. "Yunho?!"

"Thought we could give it a try together before they get rid of it."

"You're the best." You tippy-toe to wrap your arms around his neck, planting a sweet kiss against his lips. His large hands come to squeeze your side, holding the kiss for as long as he can before he slightly pulls away.

"Actually, I wanted to ask you something." He brushes the hair away from your face, thumb coming down to caress your cheek. You feel the butterflies swirling in your stomach when Yunho looks at you, his touch simple but warm, safe.

Comforting.

"What is it, Yunho?"

"I just really, really like you, Y/N. You make me happy, and you make me feel safe. I don't feel like I have to be someone I'm not, and that's the best feeling. I don't know, you just.. bring out the best in me. It sounds cliché, but I mean it when I say I haven't felt this way before."

"I feel the same." You caress his jaw. You would have never known that asking Yunho for help would lead to this— would lead to him being a special person in your life, someone you can't imagine your days without.

"So, I-I was hoping that, maybe, you could be my girlfriend?" You giggle and hug him again, nodding to give him his answer.

"I'd love to be." He cups your cheeks and brings you in for another kiss.

"Phew. I was actually losing my shit on the way here." You laugh as Yunho leads the way to the rental booth. "I kept rehearsing it in my head."

"Why?! Did you think I was gonna reject you?"

"Uh, yeah?" He gives you a look.

"No, never."

"Never, hm?" He teases before shifting his attention to the staff member at the booth. He pays for the rentals and hands you your skates, giving you the green light to walk over to the nearest bench and slip them in. You used to rollerskate when you were younger, but it's been years and you've only tried inline skating. Yunho already seems to be more pro than you because he's standing on his two feet comfortably, while your knees are shaking and you can't seem to fully stand up. He laughs as he comes closer, creating a bit of distance to give you some space to get used to the feeling. "Slowly, baby. Shift your weight a bit." You pout as you continue to practice, finally getting into a rhythm after a good 10 minutes.

"I think I should be okay." You say, comfortably skating over to Yunho without wobbling around. He nods and takes your hand, slowly skating over to join the crowd at the rink. "How are you literally so good at everything?"

"Nah." He laughs. "We'll go slow, okay? Everyone's going at their own pace." You smile, trusting in Yunho to take care of you. You easily begin to get comfortable with the music blasting in the background, skating alongside your man as the rest of the crowd enjoys themselves. Today was such an eventful day that you're wishing it never ends. All you find yourself doing while skating is laughing with Yunho and squealing every time you feel like you're going a little too fast and lose your balance.

You feel like you're on cloud nine and you wish you can stay in this moment forever with him.

The hour wraps up quick, and the DJ is having to end the night with a bittersweet speech about how he'll miss playing for this event. You and Yunho return the skates to the booth and slip back into your shoes, rushing over to the car before the lot could get too packed from everyone leaving at once. You laugh when Yunho quickly reverses and heads out of the lot, joking about how you've never seen him move that fast. When you're finally out and away from traffic, Yunho relaxes a little and takes you back into the central part of town for dinner.

"Yuyu?" He lets out a small chuckle hearing the Chaery-granted nickname slip from your lips. Nonetheless, he's grown a liking to it and loves having a nickname you two enjoy. 

"Hm?" He hums.

"Do you remember anything about your dad?" You flat out pose the question without thinking. He doesn't answer right away so you immediately follow-up with a— "Wait, I'm sorry. We don't have to do this right now if you aren't ready."

"No, love. It's fine. I'm okay talking about it, it's just not a common topic for me." He flashes you a small, reassuring smile. "To answer your question, no, I really don't remember anything about him. I remember seeing him come and go in the apartment we lived in when I was younger, and I remember seeing going with him to see some of his side of the family. But even then, those bits are blurred. I can't imagine what he looks like now, I can't make out a height. I can't make out much of his features." Your heart sinks.

"I'm so sorry, Yunho."

"It's okay. You don't have to apologize." He shrugs. "Part of me wishes I knew a bit more than what I know, but then I think about my mom and how she never gave up on me. She gave me everything even when times were tough. She treated me well and raised me well. She never tried to raise her voice at me and she never scolded me the way other parents would. She knew how to communicate with me even when I was small. I guess I never really needed him in the first place. I didn't feel the lack of love or support anywhere."

"That's amazing. I can tell you adore your mom to bits. It must have been tough for her, and I can only imagine."

"It was. It was really tough. But, we got through it together. I tried to fill in the empty spaces as much as possible."

"You're her world, that's more than enough. I know she appreciates you so much." He smiles at you, thumb running over the back of your hand. "There's nothing that could replace you, or any other love that could be better."

"My aunt says I kinda look like him." He chuckles. "But, she says she's glad I'm the complete opposite. My mom likes to remind her that I'm hers only." You laugh.

"How cute. You are hers."

"I know you said your dad comes around, but how is he with your mom nowadays?"

"They're good. I mean, like I said, they're better this way. They still bicker but it's not like before." You let out a soft sigh. "At first, she didn't understand why my sister and I still wanted to see him and have a relationship with him after the divorce. She was hurt, I guess. After everything they've been through. But, my dad never neglected us. He was still a good dad. He still is, even with the distance. He tries."

"That's good. Sometimes, they stop when all that goes down so it's good he still tries and is present in your lives."

"Yeah, I think so. Eventually, my mom understood that we still wanted him to be in our lives no matter what. And, I think she could see he felt the same." 

"That's nice. Do you see him for holidays?"

"He'll pop in for a little." Yunho nods. "Even though I'm nervous, I can't wait to meet your mom and aunt." You shift the topic back to his family.

"Hm, really?" He chuckles. "I can't wait for you to meet them, too. Especially since we're right around the corner."

"Already?!" He nods.

"Already. She told me they prepped a lot of food so.. should be fun."

"Now I'm even more nervous." You whine a bit and he laughs.

"It'll be fine, baby. Trust me." The petname makes your stomach do flips, but you can't really think about that now. He pulls around the corner and into the driveway of the 5th house down the street. The lights in the house are all on, and you can faintly see shadows moving around in what you assume is the kitchen area. "Ready?" He unbuckles his seatbelt and gives you a soft smile.

"Mhm." Yunho comes to assist you in the passenger's side, grabbing the bag of apples from behind your seat to bring into the house. He takes his keys from the carabiner hanging on his jeans, unlocking the door to a fairly loud house— mainly due to the TV in the living room.

"Hello?" Yunho calls out and you hear his aunt scream in excitement.

"Yunho! You made it." His mom greets him first before his aunt does. She looks at you with a soft smile, immediately welcoming you into her arms.

"This is Y/N." He steps aside to let you finish greeting his mom and his aunt, the both of them wrapping you into big, tight hugs.

"She's a pretty one, how did you manage to snag her?" His aunt teases, making his mom smack her on the arm in response.

"Yeah, right?" Yunho playfully agrees anyway.

"Come on, Y/N! Make yourself feel at home. Food is ready, I'm sure you two are starving."

"Thank you." You smile at her and follow her into the dining area. The table is set nicely, with a few candles in the center to help bring in some warmth and those winter season smells you love so much. You almost feel bad that they've cooked so much food, but Yunho is happy and he's excited to dig in. He pulls out your chair before sitting next to you, hand on your thigh to give it a comforting, reassuring squeeze.

"Y/N, please. Go ahead and start. What drinks do you two want?" His aunt asks.

"I'll help you."

"I'm okay with water. Thank you." Yunho stands to help his aunt with the drinks, his mom sitting in front of you with a smile on her face.

"It really is so nice to finally meet you. Yunho doesn't stop talking about you." You hear Yunho clear his throat as he hands you a cup of water.

"Not like that. I take some breaks in between." He jokes.

"He definitely doesn't." His mom corrects him, handing you the bowl of rice. "It's cute to see him all shy like this. He really likes you, and I can see why." You giggle.

"Oh, well. I can say the same." You help yourself to some rice before passing more food around the table. "Yunho's very sweet. He helped me a lot with one of our classes."

"That's cute." His aunt plops onto her seat and laughs. "Tell us about yourself, Y/N. We've been dying to meet you." You laugh, proceeding to tell them more about yourself, your mom, dad and sister. As you've continued to talk about your childhood and how things have been over the years, you find yourself comfortable enough to open up about both the highs and lows being with your family. It was nice to hear Yunho's mom and aunt reassure you, telling you it was nice that your family still got along no matter the circumstance.

Then, you and Yunho talked a little bit more about school and how you two got close over literature class. You shyly praise him in front of his family, telling them how one of your favorite things about him was his humor and how laidback he's always been. Yunho's mom tells you that Yunho has always remained the same throughout the years— that he's always been the same 'sweet, affectionate, funny-boned' boy she's always adored.

After a good, long dinner, you and Yunho help clean up in the kitchen, tagteaming on dishes while his mom and aunt cleaned the table and around the counters. His mom packs you both some leftovers, telling you to share with your roommates. She packs it neatly into separate bags for you and Yunho, handing it over with a sweet smile on her face.

"It's late. You should've just stayed." You hug Yunho's aunt before hugging his mom. She keeps her arm around you, gently rubbing at your back as she continues to softly scold Yunho.

"It's not that late, mom. I'll be okay."

"Still! It's dark out and you have a two hour drive ahead of you."

"I know, I know. Next time." He looks at his mom. "May I have my girlfriend back?"

"Maybe." His mom teases back. "Promise me you'll stay next time."

"Promise." Yunho winks at his mom as he finally gets a hold of your hand and leads you out to the car.

"Mhm. I saw that. Seriously, come back soon, okay? You two better stay here next time." His aunt says, making you laugh as you wave.

"We will. I'll make sure of it." You respond.

"I really like her." His aunt says loud enough for you to hear, causing you to giggle to yourself while you settle into the passenger's seat.

"Yunho." His mom calls out just as he's about to step in, one leg already thrown into the car.

"Huh?"

"Drive safely."

"Of course. I'll tokyo drift all the way back to the apartment, how's that? Gets me there faster."

"Jeong Yunho!" She playfully scolds him.

"Kidding. I will!" He laughs and waves her off, finally getting into the car.

"Stop teasing your mom like that." You chuckle.

"It's funny, isn't it?"

"You're too much." Yunho smiles and kisses your hand just before holding it. 

"Mm, wanna watch a movie when we get back? If you're not too tired."

"I'm down."

"You're gonna fall asleep on the way, aren't you?"

"Maybe." You shyly admit. You are feeling pretty exhausted after your day, but you're trying your hardest not to give in so you can continue to keep Yunho company on the long drive back. "But, I'm trying to stay up so I can keep you company.

"It's okay, baby." He says softly, eyes glued onto the road ahead. "If you wanna nap, you should nap."

"What about you?" You yawn, head leaning back against the headrest.

"I'm used to these drives. I'll be okay. Promise."

"Okay." You feel your eyes getting heavy. It isn't long before you fall asleep, Yunho turning down the music and turning up the heat. Quite frankly, he is tired. But, he wasn't lying when he said he was used to these drives. Plus, overall, he does enjoy driving. It soothes him, relaxes him.

He can't wait to get back home and cuddle with you over a movie.

You're his, and he is yours.

The thought alone makes Yunho feel so giddy inside.

After a somewhat grueling 2 hours, Yunho finally pulls into the familiar lot. You had woken up about 30 minutes ago, and Yunho is glad you did or else he'd feel terrible having to wake you up from a good slumber in the car. The both of you make your way back up to his apartment, finding that Yeosang isn't home. The apartment is dark, but warm. It's spotless and it's incredibly quiet. 

You make your way to the restroom to quickly freshen up and change into Yunho's shirt for the night. You brush your teeth and finish up your bedtime routine before stepping out, seeing Yunho sitting on the living room floor while flipping through the movie options.

"I'll be back." He points to the TV. "I kinda just settled on that new Leave the World Behind movie." 

"Sounds good to me." He quickly eyes his shirt on you, no bottoms. And god, it instantly drives him crazy. Before he could fall too deep into his feelings, Yunho waddles off to the bathroom to get ready for the evening and changed into some sweats and a shirt. By the time he heads back out to the living room, you've shut off all the lights, and you've paused the movie right at the beginning. Your eyes are fixed on your phone, and a few texts come in. But, Yunho doesn't really pay much attention to it and instead plops onto the ground right in front of you.

chaery: hello?! I SAW YOUR STORY. did he finally ask you to be his gf?! holy shit!!

seungmin: y/n's tied down now ayeeee

soobin: congrats!! when's the wedding!!

seonghwa: i see you're around for break.

seonghwa: wanted to see you really quickly and apologize. you don't have to do anything or say anything, but at least hear me out.

You roll your eyes at the two texts from Seonghwa, quickly responding to your roommates before locking your phone and tossing it aside.

"You don't wanna sit up here?" Your arms hang over Yunho as your chin rests on his head.

"I need to stretch." He laughs. "Sorry pretty. I'll be right here." He resumes the movie just as you kiss the top of his head and switch your attention to the screen.

The both of you are equally invested in the movie, even as you continue to hang over Yunho while he holds onto your arms. You've barely even reached halfway when catch yourself ogling at Yunho's hands and the veins that run through them. You peek over to see how glued he is to the movie, eyeing his side profile before placing a gentle kiss on his temple, cheek. He giggles a bit before looking up at you, the mood in the room doing a complete flip when he sees the look in your eyes.

It's the same look he had when he was checking you out in his shirt.

"What's up, cutie?"

"I just wanna say thank you for today."

"You don't have to thank me."

"I do. I really enjoyed it, so thank you, babe." 

"Of course. Is there anything else on your mind?"

"Just wanna kiss you."

"That's it?" He teases, watching as you dip forward to close in on his lips.

"Maybe." You whisper just as you kiss him. At first, the kiss is sweet, innocent. The next moment, it's deeper, more intense— your tongue dancing around with his while the movie is a long-gone thought in the background. Yunho gently bites onto your bottom lip before pulling back; eyes full of lust meeting yours.

"Do you wanna move to the room?" He licks his lips while his eyes dart from your eyes, back down to your lips. 

"Mhm." You respond softly, hands still cupping Yunho's cheeks. He smiles and plants a quick kiss to your lips before standing to his feet. He shuts off the movie and helps you up from the couch, leading you to his room. Yunho shuts his door, watching as you climb into bed and under the covers. It's not long before he joins you— slightly hovering over you as he pulls the covers over his body. 

"Baby." He calls lowly. 

"Yeah?" Your fingers are tangled at the ends of his hair, eyes scanning every feature on Yunho's face— his long lashes, his pink lips, his doe eyes, his soft, black hair. You adore everything about Yunho, and you can't help but melt in his hold.

"Is it okay if I keep going..?" You nod quietly as Yunho leans in to meet your lips again, hand coming up underneath your shirt to caress your bare skin. His hand his warm against the surface, and it's enough to light up your entire body; fireworks going off every time Yunho deepens the kiss a little more. He gives your side a squeeze, lips now trailing down to the corner of your lips, your jaw.

Neck.

Yunho takes his time on your neck, though. And god, do you love every bit of it. You squirm underneath him, teeth nibbling on your bottom lip when you feel Yunho's tongue glide across the surface before gently sucking on it, when you feel him slowly rocking his hips against you. He catches the way you continue to bite onto your lip, smirking against your skin just as he places another kiss at the base.

Down to your collarbone.

"Can I?" He whispers, slowly lifting up the edge of your shirt. You nod, lifting yourself up to help Yunho tug the shirt over your head and onto the floor. He takes a moment to admire your bare chest, eyes glowing at how beautiful you look underneath him. "So pretty." His eyes are now glued onto yours as he continues to leave a trail of kisses down your chest. His tongue glides over to a nipple, popping the bud into his mouth before working his tongue in a circular motion. You let out a small whimper and Yunho feels the blood rush straight down to his dick.

He can't wait to have all of you. To have a taste, to feel you around him.

As his and his only.

He moves to the next bud, sucking gently before repeating the circular motions around your nipple— pulling back with a small pop. You feel the goosebumps heighten on your arms, the pleasure already surging through your veins. 

"Taking these off." Yunho says as he makes his way down, finger slightly dipping underneath the waistband of your pjay bottoms. You watch as he sheds off your bottoms and panties, tossing them off to the side to join your [his] shirt on the floor. You feel incredibly shy being this bare, this vulnerable, in front of Yunho. But, the feeling dissipates when he smiles in awe; his large hands caressing your thighs and giving them a kiss. "You're so beautiful." He plants a kiss to your inner thigh. "Wanna make you feel good, love." He watches for your response as he softly nibbles on your inner thigh. 

"Please." You respond, almost whimpering for him to continue. Your breath hitches when you feel his thumb graze over your folds then press on your clit. He starts to rub your already sensitive nub in slow, circular motions to test the waters, before diving in with his tongue against you. His other hand is gripping your thigh, keeping your legs spread open so he could get you in all angles, taste every drop of you. "Yunho." You breathily moan, hands tangled in his hair as he continues to lap at your folds and suck on your clit. He proceeds with slipping a finger inside of you, pumping at a slow and steady pace while continuing to work his tongue on you. It's not long before he's slipping another digit in— this time, watching your reaction from in between your thighs, biting onto his lip every time you squirm and moan for him to keep going.

Yunho finds, at this very moment, that he can't get enough of you. He wants to be the only one who keeps making you feel good, and he wants to keep hearing you like this. He wants to be everything for you, as long as you'll let him.

"All this for me, hm?" He hums, feeling his digits coated in your slickness. He quickly removes his fingers and replaces the pleasure with his tongue again, allowing you to grind against him when he picks up his pace— lapping at your folds and flicking at your clit; sucking every drop of you he can get.

"Oh—Yunho!” You almost yell his name, hands now gripping his hair as you continue to grind against his mouth. He lets out a groan against you, sending the vibrations straight to your core. "Oh shit, I'm—" Your statement is broken because your mind is fuzzy with your orgasm approaching quick. You're probably gripping on Yunho's hair a little too tightly without realizing but he doesn't mind. Especially when your face contorts in pleasure, a beautiful, strangled moan leaving your lips as you twitch in his grip. He keeps your legs opened, mouth still latched onto you until you've come down from your high. "Oh my god." You mumble and Yunho chuckles. 

"You okay, baby?" You nod just as Yunho leans forward to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on his lips. "Wanna feel you." He takes your hand and presses it against his hardened cock. He hisses at your touch, shutting his eyes for a brief moment as you palm him through his sweats. "See what you do to me? Want all of you."

"You have me, Yunho." You tug at his shirt, giving him leverage to shed it off and toss it on the floor. "You have me." You repeat. He simply sheds off his sweats and boxers, his cock springing free from its confines. You can't help but ogle at how he's built— his toned abs, his biceps, his pretty, thick cock. You help yourself and continue to stroke him for a bit, pumping at a slow pace while your thumb spreads the pre-cum all over his tip. He lets out a shaky breath just as he lowers himself onto you, planting kisses along your jaw and neck.

"Fuck. I don't have any condoms." He pauses and looks at you, but you respond by shaking your head.

"It's fine. I'm on birth control. And clean. Promise." You reassure him, knowing you made sure to get tested after Seonghwa just in case. He nods and takes his length in his hand, gently tapping it against your folds and nudging the tip against your clit to tease you.

"Ready?"

"Yes. Need you." Yunho wastes no time pushing himself into you slowly, burying himself to the hilt. He pauses for a minute to adjust to the feeling, giving you a moment to take him in. His forehead is pressed against yours as he lays a kiss on the tip of your nose, moving down to your lips. He holds the kiss for a second before parting, savoring the feeling of your lips against his for the brief moment.

Yunho begins to pick up his pace, letting out a small groan when he feels how tight you are. He loves seeing your back slightly arch, the goosebumps forming on your skin when he touches you lightly— lips grazing the surface of your collarbones, chest, just ghosting over your nipples. You moan his name when he quickly sucks on your buds, snapping his hips at a faster pace. The room is filled with sounds of skin against skin, wet kisses and moans that are nothing short of pornographic. Yunho thrusts hard one, two, three times, his mouth swallowing the loud moan you let out.

"God, you feel so good around me." He says. "Like you were meant for me."

"I am." You cutely respond and Yunho lets out a shaky breath.

"Mmmfuck." Yunho lets out just as he takes his thumb to your clit. You feel the tingle down your spine, the pleasure building in your gut, as Yunho rolls his hips in a steady fashion; enough to drive you crazy, pushing you close to the edge. "Gotta cum for me, baby."

"So close." You moan, gently biting at his bottom lip and tugging it back. "I'm so close, babe."

"That's my girl." He says, taking note of how you continue to squirm in his hold, your walls clenching around him.

That's it.

You're my babygirl. 

So good for me.

He continues to praise you in your ear until he finally tips you over the edge, eyes shut close as you let out a string of moans— calling his name like a mantra. Yunho feels you squeeze him, walls wrapping him so tightly he might just lose himself right at this moment. So, he locks his hands with yours— holding it against the pillow as he thrusts into you and chases his own high.

Luckily, Yeosang hasn't walked in yet or else he's not really sure how Yeo would react to hearing your loud moans. Yunho doesn't care much to shush you right now, though. He loves hearing it. He's basking in all of this, all of you.

"Y/N—" He groans. "Baby, where do you want me?"

"Inside, please." You're finally meeting his gaze with those doe-eyes of yours and Yunho lets himself go. He moans as his hips stutter, coating your walls as he releases and fills you up. It takes a moment before he comes back down from his orgasm, Yunho looking at you through hooded eyes before lazily planting a kiss on your lips. 

"You okay?" He whispers, brushing the hair away from your face. 

"Mhm." You kiss him again before he leaves the covers, snatching a piece of tissue from his desk to clean you up.

"I'll grab you some water. Do you want anything else, love?" You shake your head and slip back into his shirt.

"No, thank you." He smiles while throwing on his boxers and sweats, walking out to grab some cold water. He comes back shortly, shutting his door before handing you the water. You take a few gulps before you're satisfied, leaving the water aside to slip under the covers and get comfortable. Yunho immediately pulls you into his arms; one arm around your neck, with the other wrapped around your waist. "You're so warm." He chuckles.

"Good. As long as you're okay." He kisses your forehead. "Y/N?"

"Yeah?"

"You’re everything to me.”

♣︎ taglist: @s-nsanshine @soupbinlily @tyongff-ff @jiminiscricket @g1g1l @staytinyinmybpack @woomyteez @gfksz @bitchwhytho @savluvsmingi @thisisntmyrightera @hyukssunflower @miriamxsworld @tmtxtf @kuromibabe04 @lmnhead @carrietwrites @tournesol155 @persphonesorchid @txt-yaomi @mxnsxngie @h-nji @mundayoonimnida @jalapeno-princess @nakiiko @asjkdk @kunikku @idkwgoh @kyeos4ng @agust-d2 @araknoid @bintificreads @primoppang @betray-the-light @aurorasjoongie @wineyoungie @yunholuvrsblog @mingigiggles @jaerisdiction @ignoretheskies @luminouskalopsia @naeviscall @vixensss @choisansplushie @arya9111 @my-lightspirit @dazednconfusion @astro-doll-the-star @faesmingi

[violet-butterflies]

❥︎ yandere! Theater Actor

❥︎ Warnings ! ☞︎︎︎ Abuse of power, Mentions of murder, Slight mentions of workplace bullying ( male yandere! oc x gn reader )

You first met yandere! Theater Actor when you first joined the theater troupe. yandere! Theater Actor was the most senior and respected actor in the troupe and everyone loved his charismatic and caring personality. He was also very creative and has natural gift of being a leader.

As a rookie, you felt eager to prove yourself but you can't help but feel overwhelmed when you went into your first script-reading session with all the other actors. You quickly felt overwhelmed and nervous with your abilities when you were now actually working as a member of a theater troupe that you looked up to despite only holding a small role in the whole production.

However, yandere! Theater Actor kept giving you compliments and a satisfied smile whenever you said your lines.

"Mmm. That's pretty good! I'm sure you'll do great" he would comment after you said your lines or in breaks.

It was no surprise to anyone that yandere! Theater Actor landed the main role in the production and was even an influential voice in the creative direction of the whole production. He was so cool! You can't help but look up at him as a role model and someone you aspired to be.

You didn't expect a thing when he kept voicing out constructive criticisms and compliments when the production began during the on-stage rehearsals. He was even asking for your opinion on what he could improve in the play! You only thought of it as yandere! Theater Actor looking out for the new kid so they'd adapt and fit in with the group.

"y/n That was so good! I can tell that you have been practicing! Keep it up and you'd be my favourite troupe member!"

"Hm... I think you could do better in scene 14. I mean you're already doing great but I think it wouldn't hurt if your tone was a bit more melodic when you call my role's name out..."

"Hey, y/n? Do you think this should be turquoise or violet? I can't decide and I think your opinions would really help."

'He was such a nice guy!' you thought. He really values everyone's opinion on the production!

Even as the days passed, you'd always find yourself within yandere! Theater Actor's presence. Not only that, you'd always get little treats from him in between breaks to having dinner with him after rehearsals. Even the crew began to tease you on how much you were doted on by yandere! Theater Actor. Most people thought it was cute except for the other person who was acting as the other lead and the romantic interest in the production. After all, yandere! Theater Actor was supposed to hang out with them more to build chemistry between the actors! Why is he hanging out with some random side role anyway?

It was clear that the other lead actor was jealous and did not like you but they'd never do anything too serious. What they'd usually do to you would be sending out cold and rude remarks or criticize your acting. However most of the time it would mostly consist of them ignoring your whole existence. It hurt your feelings in the beginning and you'd have your mood ruined for the whole day. Now, though, you learnt to just ignore it.

Someone else though, took notice and thought that it was about time that he took action into his own hands.

It was the middle of the production when yandere! Theater Actor arrived late to work. It was the first time ever that the respected actor was late to any rehearsal so people really began worrying about him. However, after noticing that the other lead who played the romantic interest was late too, people began thinking that the two were late because they hooked up the night before. Not too surprising to anyone else but you really since apparently whenever a production happened, those two would always be each other's romantic interest. Maybe this time they fell in love with who they are as a person and not as someone else.

"Gosh sorry for being late! I had to deal with a huge inconvenience!" yandere! Theater Actor a whole two hours later. People began asking him about the whereabouts of the other lead who still has not shown up, expecting that the two would show up together. But to their dismay, yandere! Theater Actor only simply shrugged his shoulders before dismissing the whole situation.

"I'm sure they're ok. Maybe they went down with the common cold and are passed out at home!" yandere! Theater Actor assured before going right by your side and slinging his arm over your shoulder. The rest of the crew then began rehearsals feeling a little bit more assured.

For the rest of the rehearsal, yandere! Theater Actor insisted that you took the place of the missing lead and be the romantic interest instead; which you blatantly rejected before yandere! Theater Actor convinced the whole crew to encourage you to do it.

You thought that you'd only be replacing the other leads place for that day until terrible news began to spread on the set.

The whole atmosphere was gloomy and sad when you showed up to rehearsal the next day. You were ready to go back to acting as a little old side character since it was way less pressure for you to handle and you had genuinely connected to your character.

"The other lead... They were brutally murdered," yandere! Theater Actor broke the news since no one dared to say anything. Your heart dropped alongside your mood. What the fuck even are the odds? You didn't like them but you didn't want them to die.

"I know this isn't the time to ask about this but... what's gonna happen to the production?" one of the crew members meekly asked. The mood seemed to drop even more. It was already mid-production and there had been too much money invested on the whole thing to cancel it. But with one of the crew that played a major role suddenly passing away like that, it would be difficult to find a replacement as soon as possible.

"Well... why don't y/n do it?" yandere! Theater Actor suggested. In an instant, all eyes were on him. Your eyes went wide as you tried to find every excuse to reject it. This is your first even production! You don't have the balls to take on such a big role yet!

Your pleas went on deaf ears though due to the sheer influence yandere! Theater Actor had over the whole crew. Everyone respected him too much. After all, if yandere! Theater Actor was the one suggesting the idea, it must be the best course of action, right? See, even the director agrees!

Eventually, you were forced to take on the role. But don't worry though, yandere! Theater Actor will make sure to give you extra rehearsal after the main one! It doesn't even have to be in the empty theater after everyone left if that scared you too much. He can always to extra practice with you at your own house or even at his!

"Oh, Jericho... How I love you so," you said with as much love in your voice as a used script book was on your other hand. yandere! Theater Actor looked at you with so much love present in his eyes. One of his hands was holding yours as he stood right in front of you. His other hand was on your hips.

The two of you were on a dark stage after everyone had gone home for the day.

"Words can't even begin to express how much love is in my heart," yandere! Theater Actor lovingly sighed as he then puts his forehead on yours, "The world's seas can't even complete with the amount of love I feel for you. The world's most beautiful sunset can't even begin to compete on how beautiful this love is between us."

"Neither can I, Jericho..." You then quickly glanced at the script to see what happens next. Next was an intimate kiss that is shared between the two lovers. You honestly didn't really feel comfortable with doing this yet. You've never even had your first kiss before. yandere! Theater Actor noticed your hesitance instantly.

"What's wrong?" he asked in a weirdly intimate tone as he laced your fingers in between his.

"I... I don't know... Sorry for being so unprofessional," you apologized and was about to pull away to regain your composure. yandere! Theater Actor kept his grip on you though as the hand that was on your hips quickly moved to your cheek.

"Don't worry about it. Here, I'll help you," he assured before giving you the most intimate kiss known to man. You could feel the amount of passion behind it as you tried to keep up. You can't help but think to yourself about how cool yandere! Theater Actor is to be able to synchronize himself completely to the role he was playing.

yandere! Theater Actor, on the other hand, was on could nine. Breaking into his past lead role's house and brutally taking care of them was so worth it if he gets to make you play his romantic interest.

A/N I might make a part 2 of this one idk. Anyways maybe I should start coming up with names... But I'm indecisive so here's a poll! I'll then refer to yandere! Theater Actor with that name when a part 2 comes out. (or when someone requests me to make something with him in it)

[scarletqueenx]

chapter ten - mystery spot

Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: Dean and you had dated for a few months before his father disappeared and his journey with Sam began. Now, having made a deal to save his brother's life and with only a year to live, Dean considers reconnecting with the only girl he's ever had feelings for. You.

Author’s Note: English is not my first language. This is my first time writing in the readers perspective, as i'm used to write oc´s.

series masterlist

You and Dean had not yet talked about what had happened between the two of you. It seemed stupid to define your relationship when Dean barely had a few months left to live. Still, it was quite evident that something had changed between you. And that night had just been another example of it.

In the middle of the night, after another nightmare, you had half-asleep walked over to Dean's bed and laid down beside him seeking comfort and safety. He wrapped his hand around your waist to hug you against his body as you placed a leg between his. A gesture Dean used to hate when you dated, but now it had become one of his favorite things about sharing a bed with you.

Heat of the moment

The song playing on the radio woke Sam and you that morning. His eyes widening as you shifted and grunted against the pillow, stretching your hand across the bed, reaching for Dean's body.

Telling me what your heart meant

"Rise and shine, Sammy!" Dean exclaimed sitting on the edge of the bed you were sleeping to tie his shoes. "You too, sweetheart." He turned his gaze to you, placing a hand on your bare leg.

"Dude." Sam grunted, looking at the radio. "Asia?"

"Come on. You love this song and you know it." Dean looked back at him.

"Yeah, and if I ever hear it again I'm gonna kill myself."

Not listening to him, Dean turned up the volume.

"What? Sorry, couldn't hear you."

Sam chuckled as you grunted against the pillow, trying to cover your ears with it.

It was the heat of the moment

Dean started bopping along, as he lay on top of you, leaving kisses on your shoulders while seeking to pull the pillow away from your face. Sam shook his head in amusement.

"Stop it." You groaned, turning around between Dean's arms. Your half-asleep eyes meeting his as a smile peeked over his lips.

Heat of the moment Heat of the moment Showed in your eyes

He wanted to kiss you. He wanted to kiss you right then and there. As you lay on what was his bed, looking up at him with your face half asleep and your messy hair spread across the pillow. But Sam's throat clearing brought him out of his thoughts, forcing him to break away to let you prepare to leave the room.

"Whenever you're ready, Dean." Sam said a couple of minutes later when Dean was finishing cleaning his teeth.

Coming out of the bathroom Dean walked over to his bag and pulled out a black bra.

"This yours?" He turned to you with a smirk. You looked at him unamused, finishing tying your shoes and grabbing your jacket from the back of a chair. Letting out a laugh, Dean put what was in fact one of your bras back in his bag before pulling out his gun. "Bingo."

"Can we go?" You asked. "I'm starving."

Dean nodded, walking pass Sam and you and out of the motel room. After deciding on a small diner, the three of you entered the place.

"Drive safely now, Mr. Pickett." The cashier said to a old man after handing him his change.

"Yeah, yeah." He grunted in response, walking pass you and out of the diner.

"Can't stay unless you order something, Cal. You know the rules." Said the waitress behind the bar, which make you look at her, seeing a man sitting there.

"Some coffee." Cal answered, passing her some change.

"Hey. Tuesday. Pig in a poke." Dean noticed a poster on the wall that displayed the specials for the day. You frowned as you sat next him in the booth he had chosen.

"You even know what that is?" You asked. Dean turned to you, shrugging.

The waitress from behind the bar walked towards you, allowing you to read the name on her name tag. Doris.

"You folks ready?" She asked, pulling a pad out of her apron.

"Yes. I'll have the special, side of bacon and a coffee." Dean said with a smile.

"Make it two coffees and a short stack." Sam added.

"Yeah, I'll have the same as him." You smiled at the waitress.

"You got it." She nodded, writing it down before leaving the table.

"You both are boring." Dean said, turning back to look at Sam and you.

"Why? Because we don't eat as much as you do?" You asked with confusion. "Sorry, I have the stomach of a regular person."

"Whatever." He sighed, fixing his gaze on his brother. "I'm telling you, Sam, this job is small fry. We should be spending our time hunting down Bela."

"Okay, sure, let's get right on that. Where is she again?"

"I still can't believe you let her steal the Colt." You commented.

"Shut up." Dean grumbled. "And we didn't let her."

"At least we still have my knife." You pointed out. "Thanks, mom."

"Yeah, thank you mom for being a witch." He muttered.

"Hey, that witch saved mine and my brother's life. And she never hurt anyone." You gave him an annoyed look.

"You don't know that."

"She was my mother, Dean." She reminded him. "It's not my fault that every witch you've ever encountered turned out to be an evil bitch. You hate them, great. Burn, witches, burn. But leave my mother out of it."

Letting out a sigh, Dean looked back at you with regret. But before he could say anything, Sam interrupted him.

"Look. Believe me, I want to find Bella as bad as you do. In the meantime, we have this." Sam said, pulling out some papers from his jacket.

"All right, so this professor." Dean sighed, looking at the papers and reading the headline on them: MISSING - DEXTER HASSELBACK LAST SEEN IN BROWARD, FLORIDA.

"Dexter Hasselback was passing through town last week when he vanished." Sam explained.

"Last known location?" You asked, looking at the papers over Dean's shoulder.

"His daughter says he was on his way to visit the Broward County Mystery Spot." Sam answered, sliding a flyer over the table. Taking it in your hands, you took a look at it.

"Where the laws of physics have no meaning." You read aloud, showing the flyer to Dean. Sam shrugged, not knowing exactly what that meant.

Just at that moment Doris came back to the table with a tray of food and three coffees. She set the food and drinks down on the table before reaching for the bottle of hot sauce. "Three coffees, and some hot sauce for the-" She said but was quickly interrupted when the bottle of hot sauce fell off the tray and smashed on the floor. "Crap! Sorry." She apologized, turning to look back. "Cleanup!"

After finishing their food the three of you left the diner, walking past a dog that barked in your direction, but quickly quieted when you petted his head and gave him a smile. Dean snatched the Mystery Spot flyer from his brother's hands and looked at it once again with a scowl on his face.

"Sam, joints like this are only tourist traps, right? I mean, you know, balls rolling uphill, furniture nailed to the ceiling, they're only dangerous to your wallet." He said.

"Okay, look, I'm just saying, there are spots in the world where holes open up and swallow people. The Bermuda Triangle, uh, the Oregon Vortex-"

"Broward County Mystery Spot?" Dean cut him off.

"Well sometimes these places are legit."

"All right, so if it is legit, and that's a big-ass if, what's the lore?" Dean asked, letting out a sigh.

You ran to catch up with them. And just as you started to walk beside Dean a blonde girl carrying a stack of paper bumped into your shoulder, quickly apologizing without barely looking at you.

"Excuse me."

The woman's touch sent a shiver down your spine, bringing with it a sense of unease and a faint sense of impending danger. It was as if someone was trying to whisper a warning into your ear. It was only a whisper, but it was enough to send a jolt of anxiety through your body.

"The lore's pretty frigging nuts, actually." Sam words brought you back to reality. "They say these places the magnetic fields are so strong that they can bend spacetime, sending victims no one knows where."

"Sounds a little X-Files to me." Dean said as you passed two movers with desk that was clearly never going to fit in the door they were trying to get it through.

"Told you it wouldn't fit." Said one of the movers.

"What do you want, a Pulitzer?" The other one asked with annoyance.

"All right, look, I'm not saying this is really happening, but if it is, we gotta check it out, see if we can do something." Sam said as you continued walking, not paying much attention to the movers.

"I think Sam is right." You spoke. "It's worth a look."

"All right, all right, we'll go tonight after they close, get ourselves a nice long look." Dean finally accepted.

The best time to go to a place like that was at night, where there were no tourists visiting around. Night also meant the need for flashlights, which was why you found yourself aiming your flashlight at the front lock so Dean could pick it. When the door opened, you handed another flashlight to him before stepping inside.

The hallway was illuminated by a neon green light with a black double spiral painted on the walls and door. The last one to enter, Sam, closed the door behind before following Dean and you up the hallway with the EMF reader in his hand.

"Wow. Uncanny." Dean said in a sarcastic tone as he shined the flashlight around and up onto a table, lamp, and ashtray attached upside-down to the ceiling.

Still with that uneasy feeling in your body, you looked to Sam in search of answers.

"Find anything?" You asked.

"No." He answered. You sighed.

"You have any idea what you're looking for?"

"Uh... yeah." Sam looked up at you as you raised your eyebrows skeptically. "No."

Shaking your head, you shared a quick look with Dean as you both shine the flashlights around other parts of the room.

"What the hell are you doing here?" A forth and unknown voice asked you. Turning around, you encounter an older man, probably the owner of the place, holding a gun aimed at the three of you.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Whoa. We can explain." Dean said as he watched the man pointing his gun towards you.

"You robbing me?"

"Look, nobody's robbing you, calm down." You tried to stay calm as you took a step forward but the owner wasn't happy with that as he cocked the gun causing you to freeze in place.

"Don't move!"

"Alright. Alright. I won't move."

"Just putting the gun down." Dean said. What happened next was very quick. The owner moved his gun, aiming it at him and pulled the trigger. The bullet struck Dean in the chest, knocking him to the ground from the impact as blood came out of his mouth.

"Oh, God. Dean." You fell to your knees beside him, one hand covering your mouth as you let out a gasp. Sam soon came to your side, crouching down on the other side of his brother as Dean struggled to breathe. Holding tears in your eyes, you lifted your eyes up to the owner. Your gaze becoming much colder as you gripped the handle of the gun attached to your belt. "What the hell have you done?"

"I didn't mean-"

"Hey." Sam exclaimed. "Call 911!"

"I-I didn't mean to-"

"Now!"

Taking one last look at you, the owner nodded before leaving the room.

You returned to your knees next to Dean, tears beginning to slide down your cheeks at the state he was in. "Hey, Dean. Dean, stay with me, okay? Don't close your eyes. You have to-"

Suddenly Dean stopped breathing, his chest freezing from the lack of air in his lungs.

"No. It wasn't suppose to be like this." Sam whispered as he look at his brother.

"Dean." Your voice cracked.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

Heat of the moment

Yours and Sam's eyes snapped open by the sound of the radio. You shifted and grunted against the pillow, stretching your hand across the bed, reaching for Dean's body as you remembered what had happened the previous day. Dean was dead.

Telling me what your heart meant

"Rise and shine, Sammy!" The sound of his voice made you frown in confusion as you turned your body. "You too, sweetheart." Dean placed a hand on your bare leg, sending a shiver down your body.

Confused, you lifted your body up on your elbows to look to the bed where Sam lay. Seeming just as confused as you were, Sam shared a quick look with you before directing his eyes towards the clock radio.

The heat of the moment Showed in your eyes

"Dude. Asia." Dean smile, lacing up his boots.

"Dean..." Sam tried to speak.

"Oh, come on, you love this song and you know it." Dean said, turning up the volume and bopping his head to the beat of the song. It was exactly like the first time it happened.

As he began to sing, Dean walked to the bathroom, leaving Sam and you completely speechless.

"What...?" Unable to articulate the question that was on the tip of your tongue, you turned your stunned gaze to Sam. "He was dead."

"I know." He nodded.

"What happened?"

"I don't know. Maybe it was a dream or..."

"Or?" You raised your eyebrows.

"I don't know. I know the same things you do." Sam assured you with frustration.

"We couldn't have had the same dream. Couldn't we?" You asked.

"Don't you have witch's blood?"

"But I destroyed the book, the powers are gone."

"Are they?" Sam got up from his bed, walking over to the one Dean and you had shared last night to sit next to you.

"Are you guys hungry?" Dean came out of the bathroom, looking at the scene before him with confusion. His eyes fixed especially on the anguished faces of both of you. "You two all right?"

"Yeah. Perfectly. Right, Sammy?" You tapped his shoulder lightly as you stood up. "Very hungry." You smiled at Dean as you walked past him into the bathroom.

Confusion grew in Sam and you as you watched things happen just as they had the day before. Not only Dean, but also the people in the diner.

"Drive safely now, Mr. Pickett." The cashier said to a old man after handing him his change.

"Yeah, yeah." He grunted in response, walking pass you and out of the diner. After seeing him disappear behind the door, you turned to Sam not knowing what was happening.

Dean was completely oblivious as he walked past you and found a booth to sit in. The same booth as the day before. You sighed, sitting down next to him. Sam stared around, bewildered as he sat in front of you.

"Can't stay unless you order something, Cal. You know the rules." You looked at the bar watching how Cal passed some change at Doris.

"Coffee." Cal answered.

It couldn't have been a dream. It was all happening the same exact way. Maybe Sam was right to blame your family history and it had all been caused by powers you didn't know how to control.

"Hey. Tuesday. Pig in a poke." Dean noticed a poster on the wall that displayed the specials for the day.

"It's Tuesday?" You asked with confusion before looking at Sam who seemed as shocked.

"Yeah." Dean nodded as Doris walked towards your table.

"You folks ready?" She asked, pulling a pad out of her apron.

"Yes. I'll have the special, side of bacon and a coffee." Dean said with a smile.

"Uh, nothing for me, thanks." Sam said when he noticed Doris eyes on him.

You cleared your throat before speaking. "Just coffee."

"Ok." She nodded looking back at Sam. "Let me know if you change your mind."

"I'm telling you, Sam, this job is small fry. We should be spending our time hunting down Bela." Sam and you paid little attention to Dean's words as your eyes followed Doris in confusion. Yet again, that shiver of unease shot through your body, a silent warning that something was wrong. Its presence been too strong this time for you ignore. "Hey." Dean snapped his fingers in front of your faces. "You two with me?"

"What?" Sam and you asked at the same time.

"You sure you feel okay?"

"You don't-you don't remember? Any of this?" Sam asked with a sigh.

"Remember what?" Dean frowned.

"This, Dean." You stated. "Today. Like it's-like it's... happened before?"

"You mean like déjà vu?"

"No, we mean like, like it's really happened before." Sam said.

"Yeah. Like déjà vu." Dean nodded.

"No, Dean, forget about déjà vu." You spoke in frustration. "I'm asking you if it feels like, like we're living yesterday all over again."

"Okay, how is that not dé-"

"Don't, don't say it!" Sam cut him off angrily. "Just don't even..."

Doris arrived with a tray food, two coffees and hot sauce. She set the food and drinks down on the table before reaching for the bottle of hot sauce. "Two coffees, and some hot sauce for the-oops! Crap!" Noticing how the bottle of hot sauce was going to fall off the tray, Sam reached out to catch it before it hit the floor. Doris gasped as Sam looked at the bottle in his hand in confusion before handing it back to her. "Thanks." She said before walking off.

"Nice reflexes." Dean said.

Oh, Sam and you were definitely doing crazy.

Not only were all those things happening the same way as the day before too much of a coincidence, Dean didn't seem to remember anything either. And if that wasn't enough, you were still feeling that unease feeling in your body. Something had been warning your about that place.

The dog barked as you walked out of the diner and pass him. You ooked at him but this time you didn't petted his head, you kept walking besides Dean.

"Dean, I really need you to listen to us, okay?" You insisted. "This day has happened before. Sam and I-"

"Sweetheart, I'm sorry, but I don't know what the hell you're talking about."

"Okay, look." Sam sighed. "Yesterday was Tuesday, right? But today is Tuesday too."

You nodded.

"Yeah. No. Good. You're totally balanced." Dean said sarcastically.

"So you don't believe us?!" Sam asked with frustration as the blonde girl carrying a stack of paper bumped into your shoulder.

"Excuse me." She said, walking away.

"Look, I'm just saying that it's crazy, you know, I mean, even for us crazy." Dean said. "Dingo ate my baby crazy. Hey, maybe it was another of your psychic premonitions."

"I'm sorry, what now?" You stopped on your tracks.

"It's... It's a long story."

"Oh, believe me, I have all the time in the world. Because if we're not crazy like you say, Sam and I will relive this day all over again." You stated before looking at Sam. "You're a psychic?"

"No, I- We should focus on this. We'll explain it to you." He assured ñ.

"Why do I have the feeling that I will regret this?" You watched them closely. "Okay, look, we were at the Mystery Spot, and then-"

Seeing you stop talking, Dean looked at you with confusion.

"And then what?" He asked.

Taking a deep breath, you looked over to Sam. You didn't want to say it out loud.

"Then we woke up." Sam answered as you past the two movers.

"Told you it wouldn't fit." Said one of the movers.

"What do you want, a Pulitzer?" The other one asked with annoyance.

"Wait a minute! The Mystery Spot. You think maybe it-" Sam stopped, looking at his brother and you.

"Maybe what?" Dean frowned.

"We gotta check that place out. Look, just-go with us on this, okay?"

"All right, all right, we'll go tonight, after close, get ourselves a nice long look."

Shaking you head, you froze in place, placing a hand in front of Dean to stop him from walking any further.

"No. We are not going there."

"Why not?" Dean looked at you with confusion.

"Uhh... You know what? Let's just go now. Right now. Business hours, nice and crowded." You nervously suggested.

"My God, you're a freak." Dean muttered.

"Dean..."

"Okay! Whatever. We'll go now." He assured walking ahead of them and into the street.

Just like the shot the day before, the next thing that happened went by very quickly. A car appeared practically out of nowhere on Dean's left side, hitting him as he was crossing the street.

"Dean!" Sam and you rushed to him, kneeling by his side.

"Dean, no, no, no." Sam cried, his voice filled with anguish. "Come on! Dean."

"What the hell have you done?!" You rose back up, confronting the driver as Dean took his last breath.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

Heat of the moment Telling me what your heart meant

You were starting to get sick of that song. Even with the theory that you would relive that day once again, you didn't expect to see Dean die another time. Frustrated and exhausted, Sam and you grunted against their pillows.

"You guys sure are grumpy this morning." Dean commented, sitting down on the edge of the bed to lace up his boots. "Come on. Rise and shine, Sammy!"

Sitting up in his bed, Sam looked around the room.

"You too, sweetheart." Dean turned his gaze to you, placing a hand on your bare leg.

The heat of the moment Showed in your eyes

Turning over slowly, you shared a glance with Sam before rising to your feet and walking toward the bathroom. Your steps steady and full of frustration. Noticing that, Dean frowned, glancing over at his brother.

"What's wrong with her?" He asked. Sam shrugged, letting out a sigh.

The morning started the same way as the two previous days. You followed your same steps and met the same people until you reached the diner. Although, this time, Sam and you tried to be quicker in explaining to Dean what was going on.

"Hey. Tuesday. Pig in a poke."

"Okay, would you listen to us, Dean?" You asked with exasperation. "'Cause we are flipping out."

"Are you folks ready?" Doris asked as she came to your booth.

"He'll take the special, side of bacon, coffee, black. Nothing for me, thanks." Sam quickly replied without bothering to look at her.

Taken aback by his quick response, Doris wrote down the order in her pad before looking at you, once again seated next to Dean.

"Nothing." You answered.

"Okay. You got it." She nodded, leaving your side.

"Sammy, I get all tingly when you take control like that." Dean said with a teasing smile.

"Quit screwing around, Dean." Sam grunted, rolling his eyes.

"Okay. Okay. I'm listening." Dean sighed. "So, so–you think that you're in some kind of a what again?"

"Time loop." You answered.

"Like Groundhog Day."

"Yes, exactly. Like Groundhog Day." Sam exclaimed.

"Uh-huh." He nodded, even though it was clear for you that he didn't believe a single one of your words.

"You seriously don't believe us?" You looked at him in disbelief. "Demons are real, vampires, ghosts, werewolves and witches. Without going any further, I have witch blood and your brother is a psychic, but you still don't believe us."

"Wait. How do you know about Sammy?"

"Because you told me yesterday. Which was also Tuesday."

"Okay, I'm just saying that it's a little crazy, I mean even for us crazy, you know, like, uh..."

"Dingo ate my baby crazy?" Sam asked.

"How'd you know I was going to say that?" He frowned.

"Because you said it before, Dean, that's our whole point."

Letting out a sigh, you looked up, finding Doris approaching your table again with the tray full of food and a coffee.

"Coffee, black, and some hot sauce for the—whoops! Crap." Doris said as the bottles of hot sauce fall of the tray. Without even looking at it, Sam reached his hand and caught it before it hit the floor, handing it back to Doris. "Thanks." She looked at him impressed, leaving the bottle on the table before leaving.

"Nice reflexes." Dean said, just as impressed as Doris.

"No. I knew it was going to happen."

"Okay, look. I'm sure that there's some sort of an explanation..."

"You're just going to have to go with us on this, Dean, you just have to, you owe me that much!" You snapped.

"Wait, what-what are you talking about?" Dean turned, looking at you with a mixture of shock and complete confusion.

"You left me in a motel room, remember?"

"I thought we were past that."

"Yeah, but you still owe me this." You assured. Your voice firm and determined.

"Calm down..."

"Don't tell me to calm down! I can't calm down. I can't. Because—" You stopped talking, not being able to finish the phrase. Sam noticed that, feeling himself almost as unable as you were to put it into words.

"Because what?" Dean asked.

"Because you die, today, Dean." Sam and you answered at the same time.

Taken aback, Dean watched the two of you in silence for a couple of seconds. "I'm not gonna die. Not today."

"Dean, we've watched you die twice now." Sam said. "And I can't—I won't do it again, okay? You're just going to have to believe us. Please."

Seeing the overwhelmed look on his brother's face Dean nodded. "All right. I still think you're nuts, but okay, whatever this is, we'll figure it out."

As Dean returned his focus to his plate of food, you brought your hand to her necklace, clinging to it as if it could do something to help you. Unconsciously you hoped your mother would do so from the afterlife. Sam turned to you, looking at you with sympathy. Dean was his brother, it was obvious that seeing him die would affect him, but he could also see how it was affecting you. The sparkle in your eyes that had appeared after getting back on the road with them was now gone. And your gaze once again had that lifelessness and hopelessness look with which they had found you the night Ophelia had attacked your home.

The dog barked at you once again as you exited the diner, and the blonde girl carrying a stack of paper bumped into your shoulder.

"Excuse me." She said, walking away without even looking.

Seconds after, you passed the two movers.

"Told you it wouldn't fit." Said one of the movers.

"What do you want, a Pulitzer?" The other one asked with annoyance.

You looked back at them, fixing your gaze in the desk they were trying to fit in the door. Good luck, you thought, as it was clear to you that the desk wasn't going to get through that door.

"And you think this cheesy-ass tourist trap has something to do with it?" Dean's question brought you out of your thoughts.

"Maybe it's the real deal, you know?" Sam said. "The, the magnetic fields bending spacetime or whatever."

"I don't know, it all seems a little too 'X-Files' for me."

"Well, I don't know how else to explain it, Dean!"

"All right! All right. We'll go tonight after they close, get ourselves a nice long look."

"No, no, no, we can't." You were quick to answered.

"Why not?" Dean frowned as he looked back at you.

"Because you..."

"I what?" You stayed silence, which was enough answer to him. "I die there?"

"Blown away, actually." Sam explained.

"Huh. Okay, let's go now." Dean stated, walking ahead. You rushed after him, grabbing him before he ran into the street.

"Stay out of the way!" Mr. Pickett exclaimed, driving past them with his car.

Staring after the car, Dean started laughing until his eyes caught yours and Sam's faces.

"Wait, did he...?"

"Yesterday. Yeah." Sam nodded.

"And?"

"And what?"

"Did it look cool, like in the movies?" He asked, which made you roll your eyes.

"You peed yourself." Sam answered, irritated with him.

Dean shifted, uncomfortable and embarrassed. "Of course I peed myself. Man gets hit by a car, you think he has full control over his bladder? Come on!" He exclaimed, carefully looking to both ways before crossing the street.

Sam and you couldn't help but share an exasperated look. Maybe if the one dying was one of your two the situation would be easier. But Dean was hard to handle and too stubborn to listen.

Although, maybe, you weren't ones to talk, as you also weren't approaching the situation in the most cold and analytical way possible. An example of that was how Sam had snapped at the owner of Mystery Spot by asking him a few questions about the place while posing as a journalist. The man had been the one who had killed Dean in the first place, which had triggered all the recent events. Not to mention that what had led you to that town was the place he owned, where a man had disappeared without explanation.

"Well, I hate to say it, but that place is exactly what I thought—it's full of crap." Dean said, exiting the place.

"Then what is it, Dean, what the hell is happening to us?" Sam asked, desperate for an answer.

"I don't know. All right, let me just–So, every day I die?" Dean asked. Sam and you nodded. "And that's when you wake up again, right?"

"Yea, that's exactly what happens." You sighed.

"So let's just make sure I don't die. If I make it to tomorrow, then maybe the loop stops and we can figure all this out."

"You think?" Sam looked at him with hope in his eyes.

"It's worth a shot." Dean shrugged. "I say we grab some takeout and head back to the motel, lay low until midnight."

Sam and you nodded, both anxious, shaky, but mostly hopeful. Hopeful that maybe all of this madness will come to an end.

"All right, good. Who wants Chinese?" Dean smiled at you before he started walking again.

Just two steps. Two steps was what he had walked before a desk fell over him, smashing him to yet another death. A gasp escaped your mouth as you looked up the building. The two movers you had passed by that morning after breakfast stared at the scene form the window as they held the other end of the snapped rope.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

Heat of the moment Telling me what your heart meant

"Rise and shine, Sammy!" Dean exclaimed as he sat on his bed, tying his shoes. "You too, sweetheart." He added, placing a hand on your bare leg.

The heat of the moment Shown in your eyes It was the heat of the moment

This time Sam and you had decided to explain everything to Dean on the way to the diner, with the hopes that maybe you'll win some time to finally fix whatever was happening.

"I still think you're nuts, but... whatever this is, we'll figure it out." Dean said as you sat in the diner.

"Thanks." Sam sighed.

"So, uh... If you two are stuck in 'Groundhog Day', why? What's behind it?" He asked.

"Well, first we thought it was the Mystery Spot. Now we're not so sure." You explained.

"What do we do?"

"Well, we keep you breathing. Try to make it to tomorrow. I mean, that's the only thing we can think of."

"Shouldn't be too hard." Dean shrugged.

"Yeah, right." Sam scoffed. "Dean, we've watched you die a few times now and we can't ever seem to stop it."

"Well, nothing's set in stone. You say I order the same thing every day, right?" He asked, looking back at you, as you were once again sitting by his side.

"Yeah. Pig in a poke, side of bacon." You answered.

With a small nod, Dean turned to Doris, who was standing by the window to the kitchen, talking with the cook.

"'Scuse me, sweetheart?" He asked and she turned around to look at Dean. "Can I get sausage instead of bacon?"

"Sure thing, hon." She said before turning back around to tell the cook.

Dean smiled, looking back at his brother. "See? Different day already. You see, if you and I decide that I am not gonna die – I'm not gonna die."

"Really hope you're right." You whispered, but he seem to hear you as his gaze traveled back to you with a confused look in his eyes. The look of distress on your face was breaking his heart a little. If he had to watch you die day after day he would go completely insane.

Doris walked over to their table and set down Dean's food before walking away.

"Thank you." Dean said to her and stabbed a sausage link with his fork. He bit into it and smile as he chewed. Sam smiled at that, and you were about to do the same, but as soon as you started to hear Dean fighting for air, that smile faded. You turned to him as he started to choke and hit his back but that didn't seem to work.

"Dean!" You exclaimed desperately, while still trying to help him breathe by hitting his back.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

Heat of the moment Telling me what your heart meant

You opened your eyes once again, groaning against your pillow. "Rise and shine, Sammy!" Dean exclaimed as he sat on his bed, tying his shoes. "You too, sweetheart." He added, placing a hand on your bare leg.

The heat of the moment Shown in your eyes It was the heat of the moment

You had lost count of how many times you had heard that song when you woke up. Every day was exactly the same, with little changes caused by Sam and your desperation to end the loop. Each day ended the same way too, with Dean dead. Slipping in the shower, eating a bad taco, the deaths were getting more and more absurd, but he always came back the next morning, breaking your heart even more.

"Drive safely now, Mr. Pickett." The cashier at the diner said to the man as he gave him some change.

You ignored him as he passed by, but Sam bumped into him deliberately so he could take his car keys before the man could get into his vehicle and run over Dean once again when the three of you left the diner.

Sitting back down in the same booth, you sighed, looking at the man sitting at the counter with a pancakes plate and maple syrup. You had noticed him before, but with each passing day you felt a little more drawn to him. There was something off about him, but you couldn't quite put your finger on it yet.

"Hey. Tuesday. Pig in a poke."

Sam sighed, laying a set of keys on the table. Dean frowned, looking at the them and then at him.

"What are those?" Dean asked.

"The old man's. Trust me, you don't want him behind the wheel." Sam answered without any more explanations.

"You folks ready?" Doris asked as she approached your table.

"Uh, yes, we are. I'll have the special, side of bacon and a coffee." Dean answered her as he gave her a smile.

"Hey, Doris?" You asked, making her look at you. "What I'd like is for you to log in some more hours at the archery range. You're a terrible shot."

"How'd you know that?" She asked in surprise. You shrugged.

"Lucky guess."

The woman didn't quite know how to respond to that, and the small, emotionless smile on your lips sent a shiver down her spine.

"I think you scared her off." Dean commented as he watched the waitress walk away from the table. "Okay, so you think you're caught in some kind of what, again?"

"Time loop." Sam answered.

"Like Groundhog Day."

"Doesn't matter. There's no way to stop it." You replied.

"Jeez, aren't you two grumpy."

"Yeah, we are. You wanna know why? Because this is the hundredth Tuesday in a row we've been through, and it never stops. Ever. So yeah, we're a little grumpy." Sam said rather quickly.

"Hot sauce." You murmured then, you gaze completely blank and emotionless. Dean turned back to you confused.

"What?"

Doris arrived with the food and coffee, setting everything on the table before reaching for the bottle of hot sauce. "Coffee, black, and some hot sauce for the—whoops! Crap!" She gasped as the bottle slipped through her fingers, but Sam quickly grabbed, setting it down on the table without even looking at it. "Thanks." Doris said before leaving.

"Nice reflexes."

"I knew it was going to happen, Dean. I know everything that's gonna happen."

"You don't know everything." Dean scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, he does. We both do." You said,

"Yeah, right." Dean and Sam said in unison. "Nice guess."

"It wasn't a guess."

"Right, you're a mind reader." They both said simultaneously, making you roll your eyes. "Cut it out, Sam. Sam." They lean towards each other as they continued. "You think you're being funny but you're being really, really childish! Sam Winchester wears makeup. Sam Winchester cries his way through sex. Sam Winchester keeps a ruler by the bed and every morning when he wakes up he—". Dean got tired and threw up his hands in defeat.

"Okay, enough!"

"That's not all. Randy, the cashier? He's skimming from the register. Judge Myers? At night he puts on a furry bunny outfit." You explained. And as he overheard her words, Judge Myers, knocked over his glass. "Over there, that's Cal. He's gonna rob Tony the mechanic on the way home."

"What's your point?"

"My point is we've lived through every possible Tuesday. We"ve watched you die every possible way. We have ripped apart the Mystery Spot, burnt it down, tried everything we know to save your life, and we can't. No matter what we do, you die. And then we wake up. And then it's Tuesday again." You blurted out quickly in frustration. Dean watched you closely, noting the shaking in your voice and hands.

"Wow, wow. Okay." He took one of your hands. "We'll figure this out."

"Yeah, you say that every time. Well, guess what, Dean, we haven't figured it out."

You pulled your hand from his grip with uneasiness. Not from the touch of his skin, but from the aching pain in your chest. You were letting your feelings for him get out of control and if you weren't careful, when his real death would come. A permanent one in which he would not return the next day. You knew you weren't going to be able to take it and move on.

"Dog." Sam mumbled as you exited the diner.

Dean frowned, looking down once a dog started barking as you passed him.

"There's gotta be some way out of this." He said.

"'Where's my dang keys?'" Sam ignored him completely as he continued to predict everything happening around him.

"Where's my dang keys?" Mr. Pickett asked, searching his pockets for his car keys that Sam had stole from him minutes before.

"'Excuse me.'"

You collided once again with the blonde girl carrying a stack of paper.

"Excuse me."

Seeing how he was predicting each thing, Dean stopped in his tracks, putting his arms in front of Sam and you.

"What?" You looked at him in confusion.

"Hey. All the times we've walked down this street, I ever do this?" Dean asked walking after the blonde girl.

Sam and you shared a quick glance.

"No." You mumbled before going after him.

"A hundred Tuesdays and you never bothered to check what she was holding in her hands?" Dean looked up at you in disbelief. Sam and you shrugged. "That's the guy who went missing?" Dean pointed out as he held up the flyer.

"Yeah?"

"That's his daughter back there." Dean pointed to blonde girl. Sam grabbed the flyer and ran after the girl, leaving Dean and you alone.

Silence settled between you as you watched your surroundings looking for any threat to Dean's life. A part of you knew that his death would come sooner or later like the hundreds of Tuesdays before, but what little hope you still had left assured you that if you were able to save him just once you'd finally end the loop.

Dean's thoughts were somewhere else. To him it had only been a few days since you had rejoined him and Sam on the ride. Which also meant that it had only been a few days since what had happened between the two of you. Now, feelings weren't his forte, much less talking about them. But that didn't stop him from thinking about kissing you every time you were next to him.

The dog next to him growled and barked. You didn't seem to hear him, but Dean walked over to him.

"Hey buddy!" He leaned over to pet it. "Somebody need a friend? Good boy—aaah!"

Sam and you didn't know what had happened. Just that in that moment everything went black and soon you started hearing that song once again as you woke up in the motel room on a new Tuesday.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

The next day something strange happened, something changed. In all the Tuesdays that Sam and you had experienced nothing but you changed, but that morning you couldn't help but notice how the man eating pancakes with maple syrup for breakfast had changed his syrup to strawberry one. And even weirder than all that, after discovering this, Sam and you woke up once again, this time without Dean having died.

"So you think you're caught in some kind of what, again?" Dean asked as you sat in the diner booth.

Sam and you ignored him as you watched the pancakes man closely.

"Eat your breakfast." You aswered him without even looking. Dean frowned at that, but he still didn't had the opportunity to ask you what was happening, 'cause the moment the man left the diner, Sam and you both went after him.

The mysterious man walked down the street. Sam followed him close behind until he reached him. Then he grabbed and slammed him into the fence, putting the tip of a wooden stake at his throat.

"Hey!" The man exclaimed.

"I know who you are. Or should I say, what."

"Oh my god, please don't kill me." He begged.

"Uh, Sam?" Dean walked after the two of you, trying to get your attention.

"It took me a hell of a long time but I got it."

You frowned at Sam's words. It was as if he knew the man, even seemed to know how to kill him, yet he hadn't mentioned anything to you.

"What?" The man looked at Sam with confusion.

"It's your MO that gave you away. Going after pompous jerks, giving them their just desserts—your kind loves that, don't they?" Sam continued.

"Yeah, sure, okay." The man nodded, looking down nervously at the stake. "Just put the stake down!"

"Sam, maybe you should—" You tried to get closer to him.

"No! There's only one creature powerful enough to do what you're doing. Making reality out of nothing, sticking people in time loops—in fact you'd pretty much have to be a god. You'd have to be a Trickster."

"Mister, my name is Ed Coleman, my wife's name is Amelia, I got two kids, for crying out loud I sell ad space—"

"Don't lie to me! I know what you are! We've killed one of your kind before!"

Suddenly the man started to transform into what Sam and Dean recognized as the real Trickster.

"Actually, bucko, you didn't." He said with a grin.

"I'm sorry, could someone explain to me what is going on?" You asked, gaining his attention. "Who are you? And why are you doing this to us?"

"He's a Trickster." Dean answered next to you.

"I'm doing it to him, sweetheart, not you." The Trickster explained, pointing to Sam. "You're just collateral damage." You looked at him with disbelief as he turned his gaze back to the young Winchester. "You chuckleheads tried to kill me last time."

"And Hasselback, what about him?" Dean asked about the missing guy.

"That putz? He said he didn't believe in wormholes, so I dropped him in one." He laughed. "Then you guys showed up. I made you the second you hit town."

"So this is fun for you? Killing Dean over and over again?" You took a step toward him.

"One, yes. It is fun. And two? This is so not about killing Dean. This joke is on Sam." He answered. "Watching your brother die, every day? Forever?"

"You son of a bitch." Sam growled.

"How long will it take you to realize? You can't save your brother. No matter what. You too, sweetheart." The Trickster looked back at you. "Sam is stubborn, but you... You actually believe you can save him. You'd even give your soul for him, wouldn't you? And the wheel would keep on turning. Deal after deal."

"She won't make any deals." Dean said.

"But not because she hadn't thought of it." The Trickster assured him. His glare fixed on you made you shudder. It was as if he could read all your thoughts, even the darkest ones. "We may not have met before, sweetheart, but I know you."

"Oh yeah?" You raised your eyebrows, grabbing the stake in Sam's hand and pushing him aside. Standing in front of the Trickster, you pulled the stake closer to his neck. "How about I kill you and this all ends now?"

"Oh-oh, hey, whoa! Okay. Look. I was just playing around. You can't take a joke, fine. You're out of it. Tomorrow, you'll wake up and it'll be Wednesday. I swear."

"You're lying." Sam said.

"If I am, you know where to find me. Having pancakes at the diner." He looked back at him.

"Nah, I think I'd rather kill you." You declared.

"Sorry, kiddo. Can't have that." He smiled before snapping his fingers.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

Promise me I'll be back in time Gotta get back in time

God, you loved that song. Back to the Future was one of your favorite movies. In a way you also hated it because it was Carter's favorite movie and that brought back painful memories, but that morning it became your favorite song. That Asia wasn't playing on the radio meant that something had changed and maybe the Trickster hadn't lied to you when he said he would get you out of the loop.

"What, you gonna sleep all day?" Dean asked as he stood by the bathroom sink brushing his teeth.

Sam sat on his bed, his eyes wide open as he watched his brother. He had lived six months without Dean and you. You had both died in front of his eyes and the day hadn't restarted like the others. He had spent six months looking for the Trickster so he could bring him back to this very moment.

"I know, no Asia. This station sucks."

Sam shook his head and looked at the clock radio on the bedside table.

"It's Wednesday."

"Yeah, usually comes after Tuesday." You smiled emerging from the bathroom and standing next to Dean.

Without wasting a second, Sam threw off the covers and walked towards you. Dean and you shared a confused look when Sam pulled you two into a hug.

"Dude, how many Tuesdays did you have?" Dean smiled.

"Enough." He admitted, pulling back to look at you.

"She had the same reaction as you." Dean admitted, pointing to you. "She threw herself at me like..."

"I don't think he needs to know that." You cut him off.

"I don't need to know that." Sam confirmed with a nervous smile. "What, uh, what do you remember?"

"I remember you two were pretty whacked out of it yesterday. I remember getting up with the Trickster. That's about it." He shrugged.

"Great. Okay. Let's go." Dean frowned as he watched Sam gather up his things.

"No breakfast?"

"No breakfast." Sam confirmed.

"All right, I'll pack the car."

"I'll go with you." You smiled at Dean, ready to follow him.

"Wait!" Sam exclaimed. "You're two not going anywhere alone."

"It's the parking lot, Sam." You looked at him with confusion.

"Just—just trust me."

Seeing the desperate look in his eyes, you nodded. Surely you hadn't had the same experiences. For one you didn't remember Dean dying in the motel parking lot but Sam's reaction was that he had.

"Okay, but you have to get dressed."

"Yeah. Wait here." He asked them, walking into the bathroom with his clothes.

"He really is a lot weirder than you." Dean commented once the door closed behind his brother.

You murmured in agreement as you looked up at him. You still hadn't taken the time to take in that finally that nightmare was over and that Dean was no longer going to die today. You heart and body still ached from losing him so many times.

Now you felt the urge to touch him and never be separated from him again. Maybe the Trickster was right to think you would do anything to save him, even a deal.

"Hey, you don't look so good." Dean said as Sam left the bathroom. "Something else happen?"

"I just had a really weird dream." Sam answered without giving more explanations.

"Clowns or midgets?" Dean asked with a grin.

Keep Reading: Chapter Eleven

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