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sxdmoonchxld · 4 years ago

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Operation: Pop The Cherry | JJK

Jungkook x Virgin!Reader

Genre: Smut

Warnings: rough bathroom sex, college au, unprotected sex, teasing, fingering, Jungkook has a virgin kink if you couldn’t tell by he title, lowkey sadistic JK, Gay BFF Jimin, mentions of alcohol and weed, brief mention of homophobia. bIG diCK Jungkook, more belly bulging, and I forgot what else

Word Count: 6.1k

Summary: Against you better judgement and thank to your best friend Jimin. You somehow agreed to let a stranger on campus known as the Cherry Popper, too well..pop your cherry.

Alternatively: You're a virgin. Jungkook has a fetish/kink for fucking virgins.

A/N: I guess i’ll keep putting this note until i stop reposting my old stories. I use to be lizardsocial, and this fic was previously called Game. You may still be able to find it somewhere on tumblr. I edited this fic heavily and it’s honestly a new story, but there are still some elements from the fic it used to be still in there. Unedited so please let me know of any mistakes or typos. Like, comment, reblog, let me know what you think. Enjoy!

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Bass boosted pop music seeped through the dense walls of the energetic room. Strobing bright colored beams danced to the rhythm of the music in mesmerizing synchrony. The musty odor of marijuana, booze, and sex-saturated air shrouded the room in a turbid veil, covering the sea of drunken undulating bodies packed in the cramped living room. Empty beer cans and other various booze bottles mixed with burnt-out blunts accompanied the young adults. You groaned with irritation and disgust. You didn't want to be here, but to your chagrin, you had a promise to keep.

It wasn't a secret that the college nightlife was unquestionably not your type of 'scene.' You quite frequently elected to willingly engage most of your time in your freshman dorm, wrapped in your weighted burrito blanket. A nightstand stockpiled with all your favorite snacks, lights dimmed low, and lavender incense burning, filling your room with the aroma of relaxation. The perfect setting to binge-watch your favorite show for the umpteenth time, the shifting distorted brightness of your computer screen, projecting the scenes against your face.

It's kind of funny how you got yourself into this mess in the first place. The one time you decide to take the chance and branch away from the alternate antisocial hermit, your personality had adopted as its own had come back to bite you in the ass. You admit, lately, you've been neglecting your best friend. Your reasonings generally varying from the classic 'oh I was sleep' to deliberately silencing your phone, not wanting to hear the constant shrill ringing of the default ringtone. You loved Jimin, you truly did, but you could only take so much of his eccentric mashup of bubblegum and rainbow sparkles that was his personality. Eventually, guilt began eating away at you piece by piece until you ultimately caved in and invited your friend over for an impromptu movie night in your dorm room.

Not even 30 minutes into the movie, one that you had been dying to see, might you add, Jimin commenced his drunk and high chattering. He had already started 'pre-gaming' before he came over; Six shots of straight Vodka and 2 blunts. Every day you prayed for this man's liver and brain function; with how much he drank and smoke, you would think he needed it to function.

"Oh! Oh! Bitttch. Did I tell you about that football player, I fucckked last week!" Jimin started slurring on certain words. You noticed his eyes were glossy and glazed over.

"No, you didn't, Chim." You sighed, completely giving up trying to watch the movie. You would have to watch it on your alone time.

"Reeaally?" Jimin slurred, a goofy grin uplifting his lips.

"Yes, really. You haven't told me." Amusement lightly coated your voice.

"Welll, his name is T-tae, Tae-tae something. Hold on, it's coming to me." Jimin said, rubbing the sides of his temples, trying to remember the guys' name.

"Taehyung! That's it!" Jimin shrieked, snapping his fingers in victory.

You looked at him startled. You remember Taehyung from high school. You didn't recall him being at this college, though. Well, it wasn't like you paid attention to many things outside your bubble anyway.

"Wasn't he homophobic as fuck in high school?" You asked, genuinely interested.

"Yeah, he was. Buttt I guess he was trying to cover up, that he was actually on the DL." Jimin smiled, whispering the last part.

"DL? What's that mean?" You inquired

Jimin looked at you with a look of betrayal. "It means he's on the down-low, meaning he didn't want anyone to know he's gay. Girrl, I'm too crossfaded to be explaining this to you."

You chuckled, " My bad, Chim. So was it good?"

"Fuck, no! Dick was straight trash. The only thing that saved him a little was that his dick was huge." Jimin said, wiping away a pretend tear from the corner of his eye.

You laughed boisterously at that. If Jimin wasn't so adamant about becoming a professional dancer. He could seriously take up a career in comedy.

"Speaking of dick. When are you gonna get some?" Jimin asked, turning his body to face you completely. As you looked at him, you noticed his eyes seemed a bit clearer, and his face wasn't as red as earlier. Not only did Jimin drink like a fish and smoke like a chimney. He was somehow able to sober just as fast.

"Oh my god, Jimin. Please don't sta-"

"Mmm, no missy," Jimin said, wagging his finger in your face.

"Don't you hear it?" He said, cupping his hand around his ear as if he was straining to hear something.

"Hear what?" You replied, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms against your chest.

"The cobwebs and tumbleweed living in your cunt."

"Jimin!" You shrieked, slapping the arm closest to you.

"Don't Jimin me! You know it's true, I swear you're gonna be a 40-year-old virgin, and by the time you finally make the decision to have sex, it'll be too late!" Jimin yelled, stumbling to stand up from the couch.

"First off, ouch. I won't be a 40-year-old virgin. That's very insulting. Second, I do plan to lose it soon. I just haven't found the time or the right guy." You said, looking down at your feet shyly. You did want to lose your virginity, but with being an introvert with a mix of social anxiety and just a dash of seasonal depression for added flavor. It was hard even to get out of bed sometimes. Much less going out and trying to find someone to do the do with.

"Oh! Well, if that's all, then I got you covered, babe. Time? Next week Friday at Jihyo's dorm. As for the right guy, I know a dude. He has like a kink for that kind of thing." Jimin answered nonchalantly, now scrolling through his phone, probably on his social media page.

You looked at Jimin, head tilted to the side, confused. "What kind of thing?"

"Oh, you know fucking virgins and shit. Popping their cherries." He said, popping his "P's."

You sputtered, exasperated. What the fuck. You didn't kink shame, that was for losers, but he can't seriously expect you to do something like that.

"What the actual fuck. Jimin, are you serious?"

"Deadly." He said, looking you square in your eyes. His tone of voice haven dropped an octave lower.

"Jimin no. I-i can't."

"Jimin, yes! Err, I mean _____ yes, you can! Come on, it's a once in a lifetime experience. Plus, it's not like he's a total stranger. I've known him since he was 8 years old. I use to babysit the little shit head." Jimin said, waving his hand in the air, trying to swat away a rogue fly.

"Wow, Chim. You know, now that you put it like it makes me feel a lot better about the situation." You said tone dripped in sarcasm

"Really?" Jimin squealed, a delighted twinkling in his eye.

"Of course not! Don't be stupid!" Offended, you gawked at Jimin. You swear sometimes he could be so dimwitted.

"Come on, please? At least meet him, and if the vibe is not right, then you can leave no harm done." Jimin pleaded, his attention back on you. Was it crazy that you were actually thinking about agreeing to this? Jimin did have a point. It was sort of a once in a lifetime opportunity. He did know the guy, and if you didn't like the vibe, then you could just bounce, right? Right?

Sighing in defeat, your hands dragged down your face and turned towards a pouting Jimin. Grabbing at his deflated shoulders, you shook her lightly, and with urgency in your voice, you spoke, "Alright goddammit! I'll do it, but you have to stay by my side the whole time, no running off, you understand!"

You watched Jimin's face quirk into a sly smirk. You swore you could see the cogs in his brain churning. Damn, you were going to regret this. You had the tendency to make deals when pressured. Most of the time, those agreements ended up backfiring on you, confining you in the proverbial rock and a hard place.

"Yay! Operation: Pop _____ Cherry has commenced. Okay, so will meet at the auditorium on the art campus. From there we will walk to Jihyo's dorm, it's only five minutes. Promise me you'll actually show up and won't flake on me." A complacent expression rested arrogantly on Jimin's features, a single pinky finger extended towards you.

"Don't give this situation a not-so-secret code name. And I can't believe I'm saying this but, I promise." You agreed, interlocking pinky fingers, yours thumbs coming up to press against one another.

"So I'll meet you at the location Friday, don't be late, and wear something sexy. No granny clothes." he chirped, making his way to your front door.

"Wait! You're leaving already?" you frowned, looking at the clock on your wall. He's only been here for an hour, and 30 mins of it were spent persuading you to hurry up and lose your virginity. You didn't even get to finish the movie together.

"Sorry babe, but I have a dick appointment." he shrugged, putting his arms through the sleeves of his jacket.

"Can you at least tell me the name of the guy who's supposed to fuck me?" you huffed, honestly you were done for tonight. As soon as Jimin left, you were heading straight for bed.

"Oh yeah, how could I forget." Jimin slaps the center of his forehead. "He's a real cutie. I would fuck him if he wasn't as straight as an arrow." Jimin looks off to a far wall, eyeing it with jealousy.

"Just tell me his name, please." You pleaded. Oh yeah, that's definitely a headache forming. You could feel it already. Jimin snaps out of his daydreaming and spins his body towards you.

"Jungkook."

Time skip to a week later, and precisely as you suspected, what a mistake that whole conversation was. Now here you were at this fucking dorm party with people you didn't know or care to get to know. Jimin had left you as soon as he saw his next piece of ass. Restlessly you hauled down the short black dress that insisted on riding up your ass, the soles of your feet protesting in the slim heeled shoes. Floundering your way into the packed building, you couldn't help but query where Jungkook was. Jimin was supposed to get around to send you a picture of the mystery man, but that never happened. Funny how now was the best time you decided to question why exactly Jimin was your best friend.

"Well damn, the pictures Jimin sent me doesn't do you justice at all. You're fucking hot." You recoiled from the closeness of the voice, the heated breath sending chills skittering down your spine, and the hairs on the back of your neck ramrod straight. Heat spurred to your face when you whisked around to meet an absolutely gorgeous guy. Like unfairly gorgeous guy. You stared wide-eyed, taking in his chiseled facial features, paired with wide doe eyes and bunny smile decorating his face. Somehow, someway he's mastered looked soft and sexy at the same damn time. And fuck was that a dangerous combination for your pussy. Your heart too, but more so your cunt.

"U-uh, thanks? Who are you exactly?" You watch as he recoils back from your with a look of apprehension on his face.

"A-are you not ____?" he stutters cutely. You think you can see the beginnings of a blush burning his cheeks. You nod your head once to confirm his question. He stared at you a minute longer before you see the recognition spark in his chocolate orbs.

"Jimin didn't send you my picture did he?" Shaking his head with his eyes close, you get the courage the scan his face a bit more. Yeah. He's definitely blushing.

"Sorry. I guess seeing you here, I thought Jimin would have...prepared you better." Shaking your head from side to side because your words refused to come out. You watched as he backed up a bit further from your personal space and thrust his right hand out to you.

"The name's Jungkook, or J.K. Whatever suits your taste."

With clammy hands, you taking his outstretched hand marveled at how it almost covers your hand. Now that he's moved back from you, you now had to chance to see how tall he really was. Maybe about 6 to 7 inches taller. You look down at his feet and eye his combat boot, perhaps a little shorter but still taller. And big, yeah, definitely bigger. His oversized black jacket did little to hide the broadness of his shoulders and chest. You let your eyes travel down the length of his body. You bet he's hiding some killer abs under his shirt. And holy fuck, his thighs.

"You like what you see, baby girl?" Teasing, he's teasing but God, if his voice didn't make you pussy throbbing pathetically. Whimpering slightly, you let out a meek "Yes." God, you hope he didn't hear that.

Much to your dismay, he did, hear you. How he heard you with the music as loud as it was, was a mystery to you. But you watched his pupils dilate, and his nostrils flare slightly. Jungkook tucks his bottom lip between his teeth as his eyes rake up and down your scantily clad body. His heated stare scrutinized across your body, intrigue exerting over him, as he analyzed the way the snug-fitting dress molded to the curves of your shape. He could tell you didn't do this often. His dick twitched in his jeans with enthusiasm.

It's the increase in pressure of your hand that makes you realize you're still holding his hand. You go to retract your hand from his. However, yelp shrilly as he tugs you closer to his body. Both hands now resting on his chest, and his wrapped around your waist. Fuck, you could feel the warmth and coarseness of his hands through your thin dress. A spontaneous tremor racked your body. The heat-transmitting from his frame mixed with the floral yet musky undertone of his cologne made you somewhat featherbrained.

"Fuck, you're so soft." You squeak as he squeezes your waistline, pulling you even closer against his body. You were now putty in his hands.

"Jimin told you my....preferences, right?" his voice caressed your ear. Just a slight movement or subtle twitch, and his lips would be on your skin.

"Y-yeah, he did." It should be an embarrassment how frail and breathless you sounded, but that didn't matter.

Jungkook hid his smile behind your ear. This was just too easy. Just how he liked it. He almost felt bad- almost. He was gonna ruin you utterly and completely, mold the shape of cock in the walls of your pussy. His name spilling from your lips, voice going hoarse by how loud he would make you scream. Fuck he couldn't wait. He's had virgin's before, a lot of them. That's his whole M.O. The cherry popper, virgin fucker, whatever. Jungkook's heard all the names in the book. But there's just something about you, you just had an air of genuine innocence, and he couldn't wait to defile it.

Jungkook pulls his head back, enough to where his eyes can trail over the bared skin of your neck, and the sprinkling of perspiration sparkling off the bright strobing lights, no doubt from nervousness. His tongue traced over his thin upper lip, watching the droplets of sweat spiral down the curve of your neck. He wanted to taste you.

"Alright, then." He jerks his body away from you. You're no longer touching his chest, but his hands are still on your waist.

"Let's enjoy the party before the fun really begins. Every done body shots before?" Jungkook spoke casually, undeterred by the way you recoiled back or the look of stupor on your face.

"W-what? B-body shots, why?" you squeaked, failing to keep from stuttering over your words. Is this how it's supposed to go? Is this normal? You're bewildered, and just a bit perturbed. Were you just imagining that sexual tension that was going on just moments ago? For sure, you thought Jungkook was gonna throw you over his shoulders and haul you off to the nearest unoccupied bedroom or bathroom. At that instant, you didn't care.

Jungkook regarded the war of emotions wage across your features, merriment and strobing lights twinkling in his eyes. Fuck, you were cute, so desperate staring up at him with a pout on your face a puppy dog eyes. He could honestly just take you back to the closest room and fuck the shit out of you. But he wanted to play with his prey, a bit more. The wait made it that much more satisfying.

"Don't pout too much, baby girl or I may not be able to contain myself. Follow me. The table is this way."

Jungkook didn't indulge in answering any of your questions you rambled off at him, delighted to see you trailing on his heels like a lost pup. Jungkook directed you further into the dorm, and like a dog on a leash, you followed. In the center of a sparse room sat a scraped up black table. You observed the area. It was devoid of many people. The several that were present made no recognition of your proximity in their intoxicated state.

"So who's first?" Jungkook asked, setting the bottle of tequila, rim salt, and limes down on the table.

"U-uh, I don't know. I guess it doesn't matter." You shrugged hesitantly. You were way out of your element here.

"Perfect then, you first." Jungkook should be ashamed by how excited he was at getting to sample your skin. It looked smooth, felt soft when he had you in his arms, and would no doubt probably taste as sweet as it seemed. You nodded in docility, wandering over to crawl on top of the table, being attentive to your dress. You lay flattened against the table, shiverings racking your body as he began pouring a trail of salt between your cleavage.

He poured himself a shot in the depression of your throat and tore the lime in half with his bare hands. Smirking at how you flinched when he thumped the liquor bottle down beside your head. Jungkook pushed the other half of the unevenly split lime towards your lips, a silent gesture to take the lime in your mouth. Jungkook watched as your lips curled gently around the hull of the green citrus. A flare of lust stirred in his loins at the action. He couldn't wait to see your lips stretched around the head of his cock. He observed your eyes clamped closed as he began dropping his head forward to your chest. It was adorable and innocent. He noted the way your lips slackened around the citrus in your mouth, your chest heaving in speed, the closer his tongue trailed to your neck.

You tasted splendid, just as sweet as he thought. The salt on your skin did nothing to deter your natural flavor. If anything, it enhanced your sweetness, rendering your skin damn near mouth-watering. Jungkook's ears perked at the breathless moans slipping past the fruit perched against your lips, drawn out by the repeated pass of the wet, pink appendage lapping at the salt line between the valley of your breast. Committing your muffled moans to memory, he lapped persistently at the collection of salt and tequila in the hollow at the base of your neck.

You face flammed in embarrassment as panting moans effortlessly tumbled from your mouth. Who knew your chest and neck was such an erogenous spot. Despite your shame, you couldn't stop wriggling, shifting your thighs together for some form of friction to sate the rising arousal dampening your panties. You yelped at the sensation of blunt teeth nibbling at your skin before soft lips came to suck at the shallow indentations. Fluffy hair with an undercut came into your line of vision as Jungkook lifted his head up to your lips. Your heart stammered tortuously against your ribs, flirtatious eyes stared lidded with searing lust, his head advanced closer to your lips. Your eyes fluttered closed, lips puckering against the bitter hull of the lime.

Jungkook closed the distance, slanting his mouth over the lime, blocking his contact with yours. He sucked against the sour fruit, acidity puckering his lips, residual tartness flowing to your cracked lips. Jungkook withdrew from your mouth, taking the drained lime hull with it. Your saccharine moans were heaven to his ears. It had awoken something inside him, fueled his fire in knowing that possibly no one had ever heard such a sweet sound. He wanted more, craved more.

"Have you ever been kissed before, sweetheart?" Your eyes followed the movement of his tongue, poking out to moistening his lips.

"Yeah, once in like 3rd grade." Who hasn't snuck behind a tree or hid underneath the dark coverings of playground equipment to lock lips with a childhood crush?

He grinned salaciously, body moving to rest between your spread legs. Oh, now he was really excited. Your lips were practically untouched. Just another part of your body to claim first. You jumped when palms pressed flat against the revealed skin of your thigh. Gently, Jungkook rubbed lazy circles on your skin, never lowering or furthering than the hem of your dress. He felt you wiggle beneath his hands, observed your eyes, glimpsing―darting about, should you concentrate on his face, or his hand, uncertainty was etched on your face.

"Amazing." He groaned, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks, before grinning again. His face inched closer to yours, his lips but a breath apart, warmth flickered against your lips as he talked, level and smooth. " Well, how about I become your second?

And then his lips were on you, the soft muscle mangled itself to your lips, tentative and sluggish to give you a chance to register his mouth slanted upon yours. Jungkook chuckled against your lips at your unresponsiveness. He guesses you were a little shell shocked. It only takes a few more stagnant seconds before you're shyly reciprocating his kiss. Delicate, shaky movements highlighted your inexperience. Increasingly, Jungkook increased the pressure behind lips, his hands spreading to enclose around your waist, dragging you closer against him. One of Jungkook's hands removed from your waist to bury itself in your hair, gently his fingernails scratched against your scalp, an airy moan was his reward.

Hands completely abandoning your midsection, one gripped the meat of your thigh, pulling you to the edge of the table, flush against the tent of his denim jean encased manhood, the other embedded in your strands pulled sharply on your roots, a loud gasp tearing from you. Jungkook took that opportunity to advance his tongue into your gaped mouth. His tongue wrapped itself around yours, briefly wrestling for dominance before easily pinning your tongue in submission. His hips ground against yours, the heat of your covered core teased him through his jeans.

He thoroughly explored your mouth, swallowing the now copious cries leaving your mouth. Reluctantly, Jungkook tore himself from your kiss-swollen lips. The ravished looked suited you perfectly. You looked beautiful, thighs brazenly spread, eyes glazed over in lust, your sticky chest heaving from the length of the shared kiss. Even in the dim lights, he could make out the taunt pebbling of your nipples.

Your mouth gaped wide, flapping about like a fish out of water, trying despairingly to draw air into your lungs. Your first kiss definitely didn't compare to this much. Your wide eyes flicked between Jungkook and the floor, your bottom lip tucked firmly between your teeth, feeling shy as he just stares at you. Releasing your teeth from your lips, you timidly touched your mouth, admiring how plump they've gotten from the intense liplock.

Wordlessly Jungkook hitched you over his shoulder, winded with a grunt as his defined shoulder blades dug into your stomach and what sounded like a growled vibrate up into you. You squirmed lightly in his hold, scared he was going to drop you, and secondly, your panty-clad ass on display for the party-goers, not that anyone was looking.

You watched the continuous panels of hardwood floor move beneath you as Jungkook carried you to an unknown destination. You couldn't believe you were really doing this. Were you actually going to have sex with a complete stranger? Someone who was known for explicitly fucking virgins. Realistically, you should be ashamed, yet, you conceded full control to him without a second thought. What did that say about you? About your character? Would you now be labeled as 'easy' or a 'hoe' after all this was done? What was going to happen between you and Jungkook?

The flick of a switch stirred from your thoughts. You shield your eyes with your hand at the bright lights pouring into the room, or rather a bathroom. Jungkook loved the confusion marring your features. He wouldn't fuck you in his bedroom just yet. That was a privilege you would have to earn, no matter how intrigued he had become with you. There's always humiliation to be had in the corruption of innocence, and fucking you in the bathroom was a good start. He planned on making you watch him as he destroyed your body, popping your cherry, stretching your tight virginal hole to accommodate his length, and claimed it as his own. Jungkook shuddered at the thought, his possessive nature taking a turn for the worst.

Impatiently Jungkook sat you on top of the bathroom sink counter, his lips smashed against yours, the previous tenderness was gone, vanished into a puff of smoke. Teeth banged, and tongues flailed recklessly against each other in the heat of passion, with you struggling to keep up with the demands of his dominating kiss. Thick fingers trailed beneath the hem of your dress, tickling the expanse of your thighs. Jungkook wasted no time in shifting your slick soaked panties to the side, a warm digit gliding effortlessly through your damn folds.

"Fuck, you're already so wet. You're enjoying this a little too much, baby girl." Jungkook growled, panting against your lips. His finger breached your sex, you tensed deftly around the foreigner intrusion, stretching your weeping walls.

"Ah, Jungkook." You cried listlessly, rocking your hips against his stilled finger. He felt so good inside you, and it was just his finger. Maybe this experience wouldn't be as bad as you heard. Now you couldn't wait to see what his cock felt like embedded deep within your pussy. Jungkook pumped slowly, eventually introducing a second finger to help loosen you up more. You were gonna be a tight fit, very tight, but that just made it even better. You hissed at the slight burn as he began scissoring his fingers apart with each withdrawal. Your hands wrapped around his neck as you buried your head against his broad chest, your mellifluous moans suppressed by the fabric of his shirt.

"G-go faster, please." You begged, your body adjusting and quickly becoming frustrated by the snail's pace his fingers were pumping. You bucked your hips against his hands, hoping he would ease the growing discomfort boiling in your stomach.

"Have you ever had an orgasm before, babe?" You nodded eagerly at his question, whining as you bucked against his hand again.

"Oh, really? Who gave it to you." Slow, he was going too slow you wanted, no you needed more friction, more stimulation from him.

"M-me. I-i did." Jungkook loved how you stuttered, it stroked his ego and filled him with arrogance to know it was him, and only that was capable of making you stumble over your words.

"Mmm, and how did you do it? Did you rub this little clit of yours raw?" You cried louder when his thumb flicked at your clit, the stimulation further drawing the appendage from its hood.

"Or did you fuck this tight hole, with these tiny fingers of yours?" At those words, a loud, choked moan, even muffled by your face in his chest, echoed throughout the white bathroom. Jungkook had gone deeper inside, almost to the third knuckle. Another moan left your lips as he twisted his fingers inside you, his palm now facing upwards.

"Though you and I bought know they couldn't possibly reach deep enough to touch the spot you really want." It's euphoric, no better yet orgasmic, the sheer shock of electric pleasure that zaps through your body when he finds the spongy bundle of nerves. Your body jerked heavily, legs go to snap close, only to be stopped by his broad body between your thighs.

He chuckles softly, stroking your thigh with his other hand. Jungkook shifts his head down, bringing his mouth closer to your ear. He exhales quietly, warm air tinged with tequila and lime caresses the light hairs on you around your ear. " I found it, huh?"

You whimper, rubbing your head up and down against his chest.

"You want me to speed up the pace, sweetheart?" Jungkook's voice is delicate now, so gentle. But you're confused, overwhelmed, and scared. It's never felt like this when you did it yourself. Your not sure if you could handle the feeling, so you don't provide an answer to Jungkook's question.

"Don't ignore me ____, that's not nice manners. I'll ask again." You clench around his fingers as Jungkook inches just a bit deeper.

"Do you. Want me. To go faster?" With each pause, he arches his fingers in a 'come here' motion, pressing deeply against your bundle of nerves, the sensation of having to pee accompanied with each thrust.

"Y-yes, faster, more. Pl-lease." Fuck, you sounded so pretty begging for him if he wasn't addicted before. You had him sprung now. Jungkook buried his face in the crook of your neck, the sharp smell of tequila and salt still lingering on your skin. He sucked at the junction where your shoulder and neck met. You bucked harder against his fingers, your juices now dripping to coat his palm is sticky cream.

"If you wanted more. Why didn't you just ask?" Jungkook said deviously. Confused, you felt withdraw his sticky digits, walls gripping to stop their departure. Without warning, Jungkook flipped you over onto the counter, your knees buckled at the sudden change in position. Your faced burning at your displayed state, droplets of your essence dribbled from your pussy, slicking up your inner thighs. You yelped as Jungkook grasped at the length of your hair, pulling back pointedly, your neck craned back to observe him addressing you in the mirror.

"You've been wondrous for me ____. Such a sweet girl." He expressed, his empty hand disappearing behind your perked ass to fiddle with the groin of his pants.

"Truly, you have. Your response and reactions to my touch have really gotten me riled up. It's been a while since I've tittered on the edge of losing control." You wheezed, starting to panic as you felt the thick head of his cock slap teasingly against your slicked throbbing hole. Oh, God, he's huge. Jungkook's cock might just tear you apart. You shifted your hips forward, pressing against the cold marble of the bathroom counters door.

"I-i don't think, I can t-take it Jungkook, you're too b-big. It's my first-time, r-remember?” Your stuttering worse now, but you're scared.

Jungkook pulls your hips back with the hand the was grasping his length, the side of your hip now coated in his pre-cum. His hand lays flat in the crease of your back, forcing you into a perfect arch.

"You can take it, all of it. And don't worry, of course, I remembered your fragility. I'll go slow, I promise." You plead silently with your eye contact through the mirror.

"You ready?" You nod once an advert your eyes down to the sink.

Your mouth shakily falls agape as he slowly began pushing the head of his cock into you. It burns, but not as bad as you had anticipated. You take the chance to look back up into the mirror, adamant about giving Jungkook a thankful smile for his gentleness. That vision that greets looks like it jumped right off the page of your favorite erotic story.

Jungkook's got his head thrown back, the edge of his t-shirt clenched tightly between his teeth, your eyes trail the drip of sweat that follows the curve of his jawline. You have a clear view of his abs all the way down to the v-cut of his hip, to the happy trail that leads to a neatly trimmed bush of pubic hair. You clench tightly around him, efficiently aroused by the view. You feel his cock throbbed heavily inside you, even getting bigger if possible.

"You like that, sweet girl? You like seeing me struggling to contain myself because you're so tightly around me. This little pussy trying to milk me for all I can give you." You love it. You feel powerful in a way. Do you really feel that good around him?

"Yes." Jungkook draws out the 'S.'

"You feel amazing, so warm and wet. I wished you could see how coated in white you've got me, and I'm not even all the way in yet."

You scream soundless as he bucks into you, shoving in half of his length. It doesn't hurt anymore. You just feel stuffed full. Lifting a trembling hand, you take the chance a feel the lower part. You noticed swelling that wasn't there before, intrigued; you push down against it, moaning in shock you realize it's Jungkook's cock.

"Yeah, baby girl, that's all me, well, most of me. You ready to take the rest?"

"Yes! Please!" That's the clearest you've been all night. You don't get an answer as Jungkook immediately picks up his pacing, thrusting into you faster. He wastes no time pumping deeply into your tight pussy, his tip smashing against the entrance to your cervix as you pant and grit your teeth in slight discomfort, overshadowed by pleasure. The burning sensation is back as he fucks in deeper with each brutal and swift stroke. But you don't care cause it still feels amazing. You can hear yourself, sloppy and soaking wet, echoing throughout the bathroom. You're drooling down his pistoning cock. You can feel it dripping down your inner thighs. Your head jerks violently against your shoulders, to weak support your head from his menacing thrust.

Tightened vocal cords released strained shrieks of praise; from your mouth, drool dripping from your lips, into the sticky cleavage of your breast, and sweat coated your skin. The coil in your stomach was quickly tightening, never had you felt anything so deep inside you. If you ever had sex with anyone else, they would never compare to Jungkook. You were fucked both figuratively and literally.

Jungkook pulled you further from off the sink, the new position allowing him even deeper. You clawed at the marble tops underneath your fingers, your eyes rolling in the back of your head. That sensation of having to pee is back again.

"J-K, I-m. I have to-," You don't get to finish as the band in your stomach snapped. Silently you announced your release; if it wasn't for the new wave of cum coating his cock, or the fluttering tightness of your walls, Jungkook might have missed your orgasm. He wasn't far behind you. The constant clenching of your ridged walls around his cock, had him reaching his limit sooner than he would like. Jungkook had half a mind to pull out but decided to gamble his odds. You're the first person he's fucked raw in a while, and with three deep thrusts later, he was shooting his hot seed right against your cervix.

Breathing heavily, Jungkook lets you fall against the sink, observing as you crumpled against the sink countertop. Pride swelled his chest as he watched his seed bubble out of your well-used hole. He's never contemplated going farther with the virgins he fucked. He wouldn't make any hasty decisions now though there were still a lot of things he wanted to do with you. He would sleep on it and revisit the idea in the morning.

"So would you say, Operation: Pop Your Cherry was a success?"

You giggled, winded, still having difficulty catching your breath. You straighten up against the bathroom counter, the majority of your weight still resting on the object as you had yet to regain the feeling in your legs.

"Jimin and his stupid code names. I swear when I get a hold ass, he's dead." You warned already preparing your revenge on your best friend. You stare at Jungkook in the eyes through the mirror, smile a bit goofy, you say.

"Operation: Pop My Cherry. Mission complete."

#bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook #bts oneshot #bts smut reactions #bts #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #bts college au #jungkook college au #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #ao3 #jungkook x reader

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rosesandalfazemas · 2 years ago

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Random headcanons? Any at all?

Anon, you're opening hell... so thanks! 8D Let's see...

It's funny because in Wattpad I made a post with this task, but it's in spanish only (I'm from Argentina). So this time I will pick three general and three especifical, to not write a bible.

Later on you can ask me for more!

General: Supernatural condition.

I've told this in several posts but, for me, nations have several "faces" or phases, and these are self-consious individuals. They're not in the human world at the same time, because they'd break the basements of logical reality, but they are in other plane which I call Onirical World. In there all these parts "live" in the same place and at the same time. When something really strong happen in the world (a war, for example), some or one of them go out and take the body in this side, transforming the nation for that period. That goes from a more violent phase to a genderbending phase, a childish phase, animal phase, avataric phase etc.

Is this allowing to do AUs (nekotalia, mochitalia, cardverse, hetaween, etc) and "mortal" phases? yes, because this reality is not the only one. And sometimes the oldest nations have "dreams" of these possibilities.

Why our version is reality is the "true" one, and not the others? because we believe in this - ok yes I went into phenomenology and multiverse's theories... but hey! it works XD.

Nations are not monogamous, so they can have multiple relationships. Some of them, or course, could be stronger or older than others (like marriages), but these bonds represent communication between countries, so they're all important. Do they change? of course; could be enemies for decades? of course, it's a way of linking too.

I think my position was clear after Francis' party with Portugal + the rest of the world.

Maybe this is a little harsh for the fandom, but I don't consider incest exists between them as we concieve it. We naturally reject it because all the social and genetical problems could bring, as humans, but it's also a moral topic and, even in our history - with focus in all european kingdoms - didn't care much about it :V. Since for me Tans are not humans, they can flow from being brothers to ZAP!

Of course, if you don't agree or you don't like it is FINE.

To be more clear I will put the USUK sample, because is the most popular ship worldwide: You can prefer them as a father/son/brother/lovers relationship, or an father/son relationship, or only brothers relationship, or a mentor/pupil/lovers relationship, or even friends/lovers. For my conception everything is possible and I'm okey them them - I don't like the ship so much, but it's acceptable and I'm curious all the shapes they can have. At the same time, if you cannot even thing about them in something romantic or kissing, it's okey too!

This applies to all of them - Ivan and his sisters, Antonio and Gabriel, Gilbert and Ludwig, Matthew and Alfred, etc.

Random

Ivan, Natasha and Ucraine (Yekaterina, for me) can encarnate General Winter together, because they're part of an one original being.

Portugal (Gabriel Dos Anjos, for me) has a multicultural inheritance more visible than Antonio's; specifically in the muslim part. Visible not because Antonio doesn't have it, but aesthetically Gabriel likes to change more his appearence; so he looks sometimes as a serious christian and sometimes a sexy gypsy or a belly dancer guy who smokes narguile. This is because they use his seduction with purposes.

Turkiye (aka Sadiq Adnan) has only two big loves in his existence: Heracles, which is the most complication relationship you'll ever seen, and Yekaterina, whom considers his sultana and treats her like a wife, even nowadays. And he is the most lovely and cute husband on earth.

Thanks anon!

#hetalia #headcanons #hetalia supernatural headcanons #usuk #rosas says #aph turkey #aph russia #aph belarus #aph ucraine #aph greece #aph america #aph england

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blue-pastel-cat · 3 years ago

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Xiaobedo Fanfic Recommendation

Welcome to my personal “if you are new to xiaobedo peeps please read these” list. As said before this is my personal list so please feel free to reblog/comment/hit me for not including any gem here. I might miss a lot of them because I am drunk or blind. (mostly have them on my to read and then forgot as I am being assault by real life shit).

I would like to say first that so far there are 150+ Xiaobedo fics on Ao3. I can’t review all of them but I can say that I have read a majority of them. Most of them are just pure love and I would like nothing more than a thousands thank you for all the fic writers who spent their free time writting these gems for us to read for free. But these...these takes the cake as it finds a special landing spot in my heart that I would just thrust them into someone’s hand if they say “I am new to this ship can you recommend me?”

1. Orange dust by bobamilkteas (Wes)

In which Xiao learns to open himself up to the world a little more after the collapse of Rex lapis's contracts but it was not always easy for a soul doomed to eternal damnation. Meanwhile, Albedo liked to tempt fate where the extraordinary are concerned.

If only the traveler's comrades are made of saner bunch.

Comment: Long ago when I like both Albedo and Xiao as a character, I was wondering hmmm....will anyone actually even write about them lmao they never met each other. I am surprise to see this one as the 3rd fic in the whole 3 Xiaobedo fic on Ao3 (yeah back when there’s literally only 3 fic for this couple). I was like I’ll read it for the curiosity, I’ll probably won’t ship them. And that people is how I put my clown make up on my face upon finishing reading it. This ONE fic alone convert me into a devotee of Xiaobedo. Please consider joining me in this circus if you want to know what is Xiaobedo. I would put this as the first of my “Big 3″

Orange Dust also come with its compliation of short stories over the course of the game and a big sequel to it. Please also consider reading ALL OF THEM.

2. Solar Wind by birdpriestess (Sparrow)

For the yaksha, his duty was his life, and his life was his duty. No human could ever hope to understand the eternal war he fought out of sight and in silence.

So why, then, did he feel that Albedo would understand?

---

Finding himself at death's door once more, Xiao is saved by a surprising person, setting off the unlikeliest of adventures.

Comment: Do you like crying? Do you like the feeling of getting your heart ripped into pieces as the author destroy your emotions over the end of each chapter as the story picked up the climax? Yeah, this one is for you masochists. The action, the characterisation, the drama THE EMOTIONS OH WOW. I kid you not that it was so good I read this while workinng when I am not suppose to me. Also, this fic has my favourite characterisation of Gold ever. I love that dramatic queen Mad Alchemist. AND DAIN. I LOVE DAIN IN THIS FIC. Our dearest Sparrow manage to toy with our feelings like how I bully ruin guard for big numbers lmao. This is the secound of “Big 3″ of my Xiaobedo list.

Again, just like Orange Dust, Solar Wind comes with its own compliation of short stories of what came after that. Please also consider reading ALL OF THEM.

3. Castle of Glass by AlchemicalStardust (Morgie)

A black shadow rises over Huaguang Stone Forest. Caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, Albedo flees the shaking ground and the crash of boulders tumbling form the sky. As the dust settles, Albedo finds a young man – an Adeptus – amidst the carnage. Despite the karmic agony ripping his body from the inside, Xiao’s only question is “How?” How did a human survive after witnessing his battle?

Comment: The last of the “Big 3″ of my Xiaobedo list. And it is still on going! Castle of Glass? More like I AM IN A GLASS CASE OF EMOTIONS! Have you read a fic about 2 people yearning, longing, reaching out for each other so damn well that you just want to throw your phone in the air as they both had their impending doom coming down upon them? Yeah this is one of them. You will like want to be stuck in the moment they express how much they just yearn for each other’s love and care that you want to shake the author for what comes next. Like...everytime Morgie update I am expressing my gratitude at the end of the chapter by writing on Xiaobedo discord “MORGIE COME HERE AND LET ME BONK YOU WHY ARE YOU ENDING IT THERE”

trust me when you read you will def feel the same. With just Big 3 and their compliation alone that would give you like a LONG list of reading already LMAOOOOOOO

4. Find a place to call it home by yamajiroo

Our room, he said. Xiao’s brow twitches. Zhongli never said anything about this. But then again, perhaps he should anticipate this from the beginning...

Xiao looks over at Albedo, who is now tilting his head, his look as innocent as ever.

“Are you not okay with sharing a room?”

Comment: College AU for Xiaobedo! One thing that I love this is the slow burn and what made me LOVE LOVE LOVE this fic more is how cute Klee is in this fic. Their relationship in this one is very simple, but that simplicity highlight why their chemistry work. Xiao is someone who was just very gentle, who was largely misunderstood by his lonesome nature. Albedo was someone who like peace and quite in his introvert bubble. And how they respect that bubble that each other has actually made their relationship work. I love it when fic highlight this and this one captures it.

5. I Can't See Your Face From the Other Side of the Classroom by MissWeaver

When Albedo and Xiao unexpectedly start eating lunch together, they begin to find that they have more in common than anyone would have realized. They both struggle in their own ways with blossoming feelings, too many assignments, and annoying classmates as they navigate a relationship for the first time.

Comment: I’ll be honest, I usually hate high school au just because its so cliche. I don’t even watch and drama/anime surrounds high school student anymore LMAOOO (unless it’s very good). So if there’s an high school AU that I actually keep come back and read after a couple of chapters, it means that the cliche that I hate wasn’t there or barely was there at all. The pinning in this fic makes me want to bang their head together sometimes LMAOOO The tag wasn’t kidding when they said both Xiao and Albedo are bad at feelings. Also that’s a lot of heart broken caused by these two idiots XD

6. new world, same me, same bullshit by bobamilkteas (Wes)

At the belly of Dragonspine, Albedo lost control to the festering corruption that permeated his senses and watched, from the recesses of his mind, as his devoured body turned his allies into enemies. Before his rampage reached its climax, he is sealed in a crystalized confinement by the last hand of Reindottir, where he then reawakens centuries after, in a rebooted Teyvat.

Comment: Yeah I know it was list in Orange Dust but here me out. This sets out in an entirely different universe. And if you like Polyamory, this one has Zhongli joining the duo and I love it because I also love ZhongXiao with my life. Time Travel is my biggest kink. Especially when I am the person who love it when people explore Archon War era/ Alatus!Xiao. So this one hits double of my kink. Of course it is still on going and I will bully Wes whenever I can to see that new chapter. Albedo is a total fucking badass in this story and I completely agree from using him in Abyss so often. Everyone should write badass Albedo.

7. misplaced heart of mine by inkburn

“If you are ill, then you should be resting at home. In Mondstadt.” He emphasized Mondstadt with a pointed look in his direction.

“I assure you I won’t be troublesome, Adeptus Xiao,” Albedo said, “You’ll find I’m a rather low-maintenance traveler.”

“Travel,” Xiao scoffed, “without airstep?”

Albedo looked him up and down. “Are your legs just for decoration?”

(albedo is sent to liyue on mandatory vacation. xiao is his unfortunate bodyguard.)

Comment: Most of the time you will see Albedo and Xiao starting their relationship with one of them taking interest in another. But this one took another approach, they starting off by make them hating each other’s guts LMAOOOO and I live for every second of it. There’s only 1 chapter so far but wow it was SOOO GOOD. I am really really excited for next chapter and is waiting patiently ;w;

8. Blossom of Grace by birdpriestess

One day in Liyue Harbor, Albedo watches a street performance by an enigmatic dancer named Xiao. And he becomes completely obsessed.

Comment: Have you ever look at Xiao fight and thinking that he’s one of the most beautiful deadly thing ever? How it was like he was dancing around the battlefield? How about actual dancer Xiao being so absolutely beautiful and perfect and that slow burn of Albedo falling in love with that beauty with a touch of Modern AU and cute Ganyu as the Wing woman. Yes, Sparrow delivers yet again another beautiful slow burn and while it’s still ongoing it is worth the read.

9. i think we could make this work (could get used to this) by outspaced

“Xiao? What are you doing out here?”

“I—”

“It’s raining,” Albedo says, as if it isn’t obvious. “You could get struck by lightning.”

“What are you doing out here then?” Xiao does the only thing he knows how to do, he challenges Albedo. “It’s raining.”

Albedo just hums. “If I get struck by lightning, it’s for science.”

Comment: A short one-shot where I read the summary and went “This is it... this is their relationship.” I am sold immediately. Oh god Albedo why are you like this.

10. Ephemeral by criedprinz

“It’s not for your investigation, is it?” Aether asked mildly.

Albedo traced a finger around the sketchbook, considering the question. “No,” he admitted finally. “I... I just want to see them again.”

He opened the sketchbook to reveal the drawing he’d just finished. Aether nodded, clearly recognizing the sharp golden eyes.

“Xiao,” he said. “You were rescued by an adeptus.”

When a visit to Dragonspine goes horribly wrong, Albedo is rescued by an unknown stranger, wielding powers he's never heard of. Led on a search to find out who it is, he finds himself in the middle of an unforgettable encounter..

Comment: A really really well written one-shot that I love. The yearning oh godddd the yearning from Albedo side is just so so much that I have to put it here. (I think you can see the trend here lmao. I am a sucker for yearning). And the moment they get to meet each other again is just chef kiss. MWHAA

11. Idle Yaksha, Brilliant Yaksha by Pit0fTheEarth

Alatus didn’t have a lot of responsibilities to keep. He spent most of his days dancing across the sky and eating away all nightmares that plagued a person’s sleep.

But one fortunate encounter led to too many unfortunate ones, taking his carefree existence and plunging it in darkness. His wings, stripped from him. His gentle touch, replaced by an unforgiving grip of destruction.

There was a lot of blood on his hands. With each passing moment, it became harder for Alatus to recall the last time someone gently held him.

Comment: This is one of the ongoing fic where I am very very much excited on the take of Naberius. And the way the author portray Xiao when he’s still the innocent Alatus is just *clench fist*. Baby ;w; Baby why do you have to lose all that innocence. Also the fic has long LONG flashback to Xiao past and his relationship with Naberius. We are unwielding more what happened to both of them and why perhaps does this have to do with Albedo.

That’s it for now, might add more later! Thank you <3

#xiaobedo #tetsu likes to ramble #genshin impact

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taeyohonic · 4 years ago

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favoritism (m)

summary: you’re quarantining with your favorite person during a global pandemic (established relationship, idol au) pairing: min yoongi x fem!reader rating: explicit (18+) warnings: the pandemic is discussed, smut (vaginal intercourse, heavy kissing), swearing, the tv show f.r.i.e.n.d.s is discussed (i imagine that can be a trigger for some…) info: this is a follow-up to this drabble! i needed some established fluff… words: 2.2k

“since when does rachel like ross back?”, your boyfriend asks as he shoves a piece of pancake into your open mouth. your eyes widen while you chew – your comeback right on your tongue.

“what do you mean since when? these two have been canon since episode one season one.”

yoongi snorts and bites into a strawberry. “no way – rachel is way too good for a guy like ross.”

you snort right back in his adorable face and pinch his stuffed cheek. “yoongs, every girl is too good for the guy she ends up with”, you respond and steal fruit from his plate.

the both of you are cuddling on the couch while the f.r.i.e.n.d.s theme song is playing in the background. yoongi has you lying on top of him and uses your belly as a makeshift table to hold his breakfast plate. you don’t mind – as long as he shares his bowl of fruit with you.

some people would mock you for binging a 90’s sitcom in pajamas while munching on pancakes in the middle of the night. but you don’t care anymore – your sleep schedule is fucked. no need to sugarcoat it.

yoongi plays with your hair and you hum as he presses softly against your skull.

“are you too good for me, then?”, he whines and brushes his fingers now across your collarbone. again, you huff and push back against his body.

“who is the one who got us quarantined?”

monica’s rant at a confused and slightly apprehensive chandler is overshadowed by your quarrel.

“it happens, _____”, he says with a serious undertone. “you should know best.”

he is right. the pandemic is widely spread; of course, it’s not going to just… turn around at the bighit building. you still were surprised when sejin called your boyfriend two days ago, frantically talking to your confused idol.

a background dancer was tested positive hours ago – and now all of bangtan had to quarantine for fourteen days. while most of the members were safe at their luxurious dorm yoongi was stuck at your two-bedroom apartment. not that he is complaining… much.

“so, is monica too good for chandler then?”, your boyfriend asks to change the subject. you shake your head at him and feel his bleached hair grazing your neck.

“duh”, you start, “he fat-shamed her so badly in their college days.”

“but… chandler is your favorite character, _______.” you’re munching on the final piece of pancake as you answer him – your mouth still full of carbs.

“yeah, so what? just because he’s my favorite doesn’t mean i think he’s an honest and lawfully good person.” you point with your greased finger at the tv. “you see me defending moriarty? or loki?” yoongi takes the empty plate off of you and places it carefully on the couch table. it now rests on top of two unread architecture magazines and a few unread binders from yoongi’s upcoming collaboration. the soon-to-be graded tests mock you right next to an empty bottle of wine.

“am i your favorite?”, he asks in a sing-song voice so unlike yoongi’s cool persona, you can’t help but search for his mischief eyes. he looks so relaxed – it’s a joy to witness.

“in a world where park jimin exists?”

yoongi’s finger find your ribs and start to tickle you in an instant. your body twitches helplessly in his arms as you feel the air rushing out of your lungs. there is breathless laughter echoing around the living room, and you are too preoccupied to locate the source.

“he-elp”, you whine and feel his arms tighten around your waist. still, his fingers dance across your stomach and you try to escape his touch. “yoonggs-s pleassse.”

“say i’m your favorite and it’s all over”, he taunts you mockingly.

“oka-ay, ok.” you give up in milliseconds. your bladder is too full to handle his tickling any longer. you don’t want to pee on your boyfriend – your relationship isn’t that strong yet.

yoongi ceases his attack at your surrender. “say it, ______.”

sucking in much needed air, you turn around to straddle him. his slim body gives you enough room on the couch to shift into a comfortable position.

“you”, a kiss is placed against his right cheek, “are”, another one is mirrored on his left cheek, “my”, the third is planted on his small nose, “favorite.” before your can kiss your final destination – his forehead – yoongi’s mouth captures your wandering lips. you feel him smile into the kiss as warm flutters travel across your body.

without a second thought you move against him and open your mouth. yoongi moans as your tongue caresses his own softly. he presses himself closer to you, hindering you to rut against his solid erection. instead yoongi topples you over by forcing most of his weight against your heated body. “ahh”, you breathe in surprise at the changed position. now it’s him on top of you. your boyfriend looks down with darkened lust – surely mirrored by your own expression.

“yoongs”, you whine and squirm against his weight.

“yes, baby?”, he purrs while his swollen lips descend upon your neck. the heat rises in your cheeks and you know you only have moments before you are too far gone to think straight.

“yoongs, i gotta pee.”

“huh?”, he breathes against your jaw, his mind clouded by your smell.

“let me pee”, you cry and push against his chest. your boyfriend soon shakes with silent laughter as he eases off of you.

“really, ____?”, yoongi asks while watching you rush to the bathroom. you fidget from tile to tile as the cold marble bites your feet. adorable.

“get the condoms and move it to the bedroom, min! i don’t want to clean the sofa – again”, you yell before closing the bathroom door. adorable and bossy, he thinks and turns off the tv.

it takes you not more than two minutes to flush the toilet and rush into the bedroom. moonlight shines through the big windows, illuminating your boyfriend in the middle of your bed. his upper body leans against the headboard while his right hand is stroking his cock at a leisured pace. yoongi smirks as he notices your eyes on his erection.

“you look… really beautiful”, you say and feel your cheeks darken at the uttered compliment. it always surprises your boyfriend how shy you can get in moments like this. you’ve seen him countless of times – his cock is very familiar with the tightness between your legs. still, right now you look at him as if he’s untouchable.

“you’re the beauty between the two of us, _____”, he answers mid-stroke smirking at your barely dressed state. his t-shirt suits you.

“come here, baby”, he commands softly when you don’t make a move to close the distance. “i’m too tired to fuck you against the wall”, he adds jokingly.

you can’t help but laugh at your boyfriend and join him on the bed while shaking your head at his crude words. up close he looks not as intimidating as before. the lighting bathes him in an unreal gleam. you can see the veins decorating his thick shaft. delicious.

yoongi’s cock isn’t the biggest you’ve ever had – but it’s the thickest by far. your pussy clenches at just the memory of him inside you as you can’t suppress the needy moan escaping you.

his hand moves from his erection to your neck, pulling you closer to him. yoongi already abandoned his hoodie – the cream-colored skin as inviting as his smirk. you fumble with the t-shirt separating you from his touch.

yoongi notices your impatience and helps you out of your clothes in seconds. he comes face-to-face with your bralette and groans in annoyance.

“why are you still wearing a bra during quarantine?”, he whines and pushes the flimsy material away from your nipples. you coo in thanks as his lips close around one of your breasts, sucking at the flesh vigorously.

“we… ah”, you babble, “the zoom meeting with … with joon today – i di-didn’t want aaa-nother nipple-gate.” you have to take a deep breath when your boyfriend switches sides. his hands move on the now neglected nipple by twisting the erected flesh. “ah, fuck, yoongs”, you moan as you feel yourself getting wetter.

“god, baby, your breasts are really, really pretty”, yoongi praises against your skin.

“you know what else is really pretty?”, he asks, not sure you are still capable to answer him. he smirks at your flush body on top of him. you can only shake your head as your fingers find their way into his hair.

since you met him his head has always been a nightmare. the hair frayed from layers upon layers of bleach, toner and coloring. still, his strands between your fingertips are thick and you grip them tightly before pushing him against the headboard and away from your tortured nipples.

yoongi groans at your actions, the dull arch soon forgotten as you answer him.

“really pretty? your cock in my mouth.” you rain kisses down his jawline while mumbling the second part of your reply. “really, really pretty? your dick in my pussy.”

“damn, baby”, yoongi growls before grabbing your waist to position you above his erection. you feel your walls flutter as he presses his tip at your entrance. your boyfriend sees the need in your hazed eyes, but he has to check how wet you are first. with only one arm holding you up, the other hand wanders to your core. as soon as his fingers touch your engrossed clit, you bite the flesh beneath his jawline in heat.

“yoongs”, you plead while flickering your tongue against his throat. your boyfriend hushes you, endeared by your responds.

“i’ve got you, baby”, he promises darkly before pushing you down on his cock. there is the briefest moment of discomfort, but soon the pulsing between your tights sends flames through your body. you can’t help it as you press closer against his pelvis, sinking deeper onto his erection.

“fuck”, he groans. your wetness hugs him so tight – too tight. “you gotta relax, baby”, he soothes you. his hands move from your hips to softly caressing your back. “don’t make my dick fall off.”

you snort nuzzled against his neck as you will yourself to relax. “just like that”, yoongi praises as he feels your walls soften around him. his words encourage you to start rocking against him. there is no rush behind your movement, just yoongi’s cock sliding in and out of you slowly.

his hands dig into your shoulder blades as you feel him hitting the spongy spot deep in your hole. “right there, yoongi”, you cry and your boyfriend snaps is hips instantly into you. “more, please”, you beg, lost at his tip massaging your g-spot.

your scenes cloud in heat as you feel his pelvis bone rubbing against your clit. helplessly, you bite his neck. “fuck, baby”, yoongi grunts in surprised pain and presses you closer to him. your wet nipples touch his chest and you can witness his swallowed breathing.

his skin tastes salty and you brush your tongue against his jugular vein to collect more of his sweat.

yoongi speeds up the pace as he feels your walls squeezing him tightly. fueled by desire he pushes you down hard on his cock. “harder”, you beg. there is fire spreading faster and faster in your core. you feel yourself vibrating against him every time his pelvis brushes against your sensitive clit.

“your wish is my command”, your boyfriend vows between clenched teeth as his climax approaches. he quickens your movement and you help him, riding his cock in desperate need of release.

“i’m close.” yoongi can’t help but smile at your whiny tone and rushes his hand between the two of you. when his fingertips brush against his cock meeting your slit, he nearly looses it. hazed he finds your enlarged clit and rolls it between his fingers. you tense instantly as your orgasm rips through you.

there is no warning, only shockwaves of fire traveling across your body. “damn it, baby”, yoongi hisses. your walls clench around him with vigor. his own release is not far behind – you milking his cock being the final straw.

with a deep groan he empties himself in you. white stripes paint your hole from within. the bedroom is silent while the both of you try to regain some sense.

“you know you are good enough for me, don’t you?”, you whisper against the brand-new hickey on his neck. yoongi needs a moment before he gets the connection to your conversation from before.

it’s really maddening how the two of you are this self-conscious in your relationship while at the same time so quick to reassure one another.

“as long as i don’t call you the wrong name at our wedding, right?”, he chuckles lightheartedly.

“slow down, yoongs. nobody said anything about marriage”, you breathe tiered from your activities.

yeah, nobody said anything, but the ring in his drawer is screaming louder than ever.

“go pee, baby”, your boyfriend orders softly. he’ll ask for your hand in marriage tomorrow when his own isn’t full of pancake grease.

____

yeah, i’m a very new smut writer, so i try to practice! hope you found this as fluffy as i did! i’d love to read some feedback! love and well wishes from, dana

#btswriterscollective #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #bts x reader #bts established relationship #yoongi idol au #bts idol au #bts smut #yoongi smut #min yoongi

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everlarkficexchange · 4 years ago

Text

Clubbing 101

Written by @alliswell21

Prompt 144: She has a night of fun before the start of the semester. She meets this guy, they hit it off that they sleep together. But when she shows up to her class the next day, she sees the guy again. But he’s her professor and he’s way older than she originally thought. #olderPeeta [submitted by @animekpopxx]

Rating: Explicit. NSFW.

Tags and Warnings: Canon Divergence; College!AU; Age gap, older man/younger woman; The opposite to slow burn? Smut; Unprotected sex; technically impaired consent since alcohol, but their both into each other while sober too 🤷🏻‍♀️; Ethical dilemmas; Teacher/Student relationship (sort of); One Shot, with an ambiguous open ending? Almost 10K words. Unbetaed.

Notes: Thank you to the moderators once more for putting up with us, procrastinating writers. You gals are saints! Thank you to @animekpopxx for her amazing prompts that never fail to snag my attention and give me the best ideas ever! You rock! I projected this story to be a smutty short thing, but it sprouted words and a background out of nowhere and I had to forced myself to stop adding to it, to get back to my other submissions waiting in my docs. Hopefully, it’s a good read for the ones who take the chance with it.

Thank you all!

KPKPKPKPKP

It starts with a harmless ranting.

“I’m not outgoing, or fun. I’m not even ‘cool’… hell, I don’t care what my sister says, I’m too old for this place!” I tell the handsome, bearded, guy sitting in the barstool next to me, “She’s a med student, you know, but she insists that partying is part of the college experience, especially when one’s career is so demanding… plus, is the last weekend of summer break, which apparently means you’re contractually obligated to party extra hard,” I roll my eyes, “I never saw the appeal personally, but I let her drag me out here so I can keep an eye on her. Is not like I’m gonna let her piss away her future for a night of clubbing,” I scoff, taking a long pull of my beer.

The guy chuckles, but I’m not done just yet.

I slam down my bottle and continue listing my grievances, “The thing that grinds my gears, is that she begged for a ‘girls’ night out’, and instead of drinking with me and people watch, she goes off with the first fucker that asks her to dance! I mean… did it ever occur to her, I may want to dance with her on OUR girls’ night out?!” I scowl and gulp another mouthful of beer, “then, to add insult to injury, thirty minutes later I get a text from her, saying to go on home without her ‘cause she found a ride, followed by that cursed eggplant emoji, like I needed an illustration of what kind of ride she’s getting,” I mock gag, rearranging the strap of my tiny purse across my chest.

“I guess she’s young, and beautiful, and does work very hard, but if you invite me to go clubbing with you, don’t abandon me within the first 15 minutes of arriving!”

My companion winces before sipping his drink, and smiling ruefully, “That’s harsh… sorry you’re having a shitty night,”

“Meh… little sisters, right?!” I shrug.

The guy smiles crookedly at me, and I find myself enjoying his smile, “I wouldn’t know about that. I’m the baby of three brothers, and the only thing I got away with was learning how to wrestle and spring awesome comebacks on the fly… the brutes kept me on my toes,” he chuckles.

“Three boys? Sounds chaotic. Your poor mother!”

“Yeah… life’s chaotic.” He averts his eyes for a second, his smile goes away. I’m afraid I’ve said something wrong, but he suddenly looks back at me, and confesses, “I’m not into clubbing either.” His eyes sparkle, despite the awful, dim, blue lights bathing the place.

I smile, “Look at us wallflowers, bonding over drinks and sibling shenanigans,” we clink our drinks together and sip. I’m chatty and relaxed, so unlike myself; I guess the two beers I’ve had are starting to get to me. “I’m Katniss, by the way.”

“That’s pretty,” he says, shyly; makes my chest warm up. “Nice to meet you, Katniss. I’m Peeta.”

I arch my eyebrows, “Peter?” I repeat, because I’m pretty sure I miss-heard him over the obnoxiously loud music.

The guy shakes his head, “Pee-ta… like the bread?” He chuckles. Then adds, “Family name. Everyone on my dad’s side are bakers.”

I snort-laugh, “Punny!” I say, taking another sip. Yup, beer’s getting to me, I’m not this cleverly funny. “My dad was into survivalism and botany… I’m named after a plant also known as Duck Potato, so I win the weird name competition!”

“Hey, it’s something else to bond over,”

“Cheers to that!” We clink our drinks again, and partake in our booze.

He orders another whiskey neat when he’s out… sounds both snooty and distinguished at the same time. Goes well with his put together image, though: nicely trimmed beard, nicely combed hair, nice polo shirt with what I believe is a tiny loaf of bread embroidered on the chest, and dark-wash jeans… I think. It’s hard to tell under the black lights of the club.

He offers to get me another drink, and I order an appletini.

“J.D. from Scrubs always drank one,” I explain, swirling the coctel in my hand, “I’ve always been curious to try, but didn’t wanna spend my own money experimenting on a drink I could potentially hate.”

“Makes sense,” Peeta says, “So… what’s the verdict?”

“Is pretty good, actually. But I think I’ll stick with my Miller Light,”

Peeta nods, “I honestly don’t enjoy alcohol that much.”

I giggle. “Then, what brings you to this fine establishment tonight, sir, if you’re not much for clubbing, or drinking?” I watch him out of the corner of my eye.

I like that when he smiles, his eyes crinkle in the corners.

“I lost a bet against a colleague.”

“Oh,” I’m suddenly self conscious and a little uncomfortable. I give the guy a scrutinizing look, and ask suspiciously, “what was the punishment exactly?”

The man rolls his eyes. “I have to spend one whole hour in the club, without criticizing anything, like the bitter old man I am,” he grins, “My friend’s words. Not mine!” He raises both hands, claiming innocence.

I laugh at the face he pulls, “Well, you’ve just defaulted on that punishment,”

“How so?” He beams.

“With the look in your face! It spoke volumes!”

“Am I that transparent?”

“You read like a preschooler’s board book, pal!”

We both laugh, I drink my beer, and he throws back his whiskey neat.

“So…” he makes a show of looking at his watch, “I still have 33 minutes to kill before I’m allowed to run out of this place… I know I’m not a Med student, co-Ed, sister of yours, but… would you, um, like to dance with me?” He sounds adorably hopeful.

I glance at the man sideways, toying with my bottle.

He smirks, mischievously, “I promise, spirits make me more coordinated on the dance floor. I become this amazing dancer when I have a couple of drinks on… or so my brain believes. I probably look like an idiot, but I’m too goofy to know the difference. You’re welcome to be the judge it for yourself,”

I take my sweet time finishing the last dregs of my beer, and wrinkle my nose, “You sure you wanna dance to this shit, kids call music nowadays?” I smirk, pointing a finger up, motioning wide circles into the ether.

Peeta gives a full belly laugh.

I really do like his laugh!

“Isn’t it our only choice?” He ventures.

Not if you follow me home, my thirsty brain supplies; my lips on the other hand, just let through a hint of a smile, because I’m buzzed, but not drunk enough to proposition a total stranger. I’ve never been one to sleep around anyway.

“Okay,” I say, too enthused. “As long as we both agree that this isn’t music,”

“Oh no, this just barely passes as noise!” Peeta agrees readily.

He guides me to the packed dance floor, and we start moving to the booming, deafening tunes playing overhead.

I’m not sure if one could call this dancing. Everywhere I look people are writhing against each other, like a pack of zombies without grace or rhyme.

I’m not sure Peeta will get an accurate assessment of his dancing skills, compared to what I’m seeing, he’ll probably look like a professional; plus, it’s too dark and busy in here to really appreciate anything, really, but after a few minutes of just shifting in place, robotically, I snatch two bottle beers from a waitress walking by, offering one to my partner, hoping that’s enough to get us loosen up. The waitress stares at me until I rummage on my crossbody mini purse and toss a crumple ten on her tray.

The liquid boost works. Before I know it, I’m grinding my hips against his. Peeta’s just the right height for his thigh to fit between my legs and brush against my front. I get tired of undulating my arms in the air, so I drop them around his shoulders, and feel just how firm and broad he is under my touch.

Our chests are tightly pressed together, and I’m at the right angle to just stare at his plush-looking lips. I turn around before I do something brash, like kiss him in the mouth. Peeta doesn’t question it, he just places his hands on my hips, and starts moving to the music’s beat.

I bring the beer to my lips, but the bottle’s empty… oops! It doesn’t matter, I’m having the time of my life!

Peeta’s swaying guides me. I basically drape my back over his front, and bump my ass into his groin. I feel the hint of a bulge there, and press my rear into it again, just to confirm if I felt what I hope I felt.

Peeta’s fingers tighten on my hip, emboldening me to keep going until I’m practically twerking into him, and his slight bulge morphs into a full blown hard-on.

I twist in his arms to face him, my lust idled brain barely thinking rationally, “Are your 33 minutes done yet?” I yell into his ear, so he can hear me over the noise.

He doesn’t even look at his watch, “To hell with time! I‘ll stay here all night, if you want me to,” He answers loudly.

“Come on, then!” I push off his chest, and snatch up his hand before he can reply.

Leaving the dance floor is surprisingly easily, considering the crowd bouncing in place together.

I make no conscious plan on where we’re going; I’m arguably familiar with the layout of this place from my many visits since Prim turned 21; I’m only mildly surprised when we navigate across the club, all the way to the restrooms. It’s like my clit is making all the decisions tonight… good for it!

There’s a line of disgruntled women waiting to get inside the Ladies Room, but the Men’s Room is available, and Peeta lets me guide him into it, like one of those pull toys children have.

“It stinks in here,” I comment blandly, but make a beeline for the last stall with a door.

There’s one guy at the urinal, but he doesn’t even look up from his pants, so I just shrug it off and yank Peeta into the stall with me.

The space is tight, but once inside the stall, I push Peeta into the door, and attack his mouth.

He makes a startled noise at the back of his throat, but his hands and arms immediately press me into his body more fully. My own hands trek down to his belt, where I fiddle with the buckle until it’s undone, and I can access his pants’ button and fly.

He hisses when my fingers graze his warm erection, and bucks into my knuckles. I’m in the process of sticking my hand inside his boxers, when Peeta growls, sucking my lower lip into his mouth, and letting it go with a wet pop.

“Switch places,” he pants against my mouth, and hoists me up, until my back hits the door and his hands grab my hips possessively, jutting my pelvis forward, “I’m hungry, would you mind if I eat you out?”

“Okay,” I gasp.

Thank you for forcing me to wear your tiny, clubbing dress, Prim!

“You’ll allow it?” He asks, incredulous, rubbing circles on my hips with his thumbs.

“Yes… I’ll allow it!”

His smile is sexy, his stare is hypnotic. Damned my drunken ass! I can’t believe I’m willing to do this in a smelly bathroom stall!

Peeta sits on the toilet and licks his lips while staring up at me. His hands disappear under the stretchy material of my skirt, bumping my purse out of his way. He skims his fingers under the elastic of my panties, and I bite my lip, nodding eagerly.

Slowly, Peeta slides my underwear down my legs, the tips of his fingers follow, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. It’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever experienced!

Once he brings my panties to my knees, his hands rush back up my thighs, pushing the flimsy skirt around my waist. My underwear drops to my ankles on their own.

Peeta’s level eye with my crotch, and I squirm restlessly. “Beautiful… absolutely soaked,” he whispers in a daze, he inhales pulling me closer, “You smell divine!” He descends, nose first, into the thatch of dark curls between my thighs, making me moan. He ruts his face against me, and suddenly drops to his knees, grabbing my calf to pull my leg up.

But the movement gets prevented by my stupid underwear, tangled in my ankles. Without missing a beat, I toe my panties off, so Peeta can maneuver my body however he wants.

He drapes my leg over his shoulder, opening me up to his ravenous mouth. He grunts, burying his face into my core, and finally, FINALLY, his tongue swipes between my folds.

“Fuck!” I squeak.

My hands fly to tangle into his soft, perfectly coiffed hair. I nearly smother him, holding his face to my pussy, but he’s doing wicked things to me with his tongue: lapping, sucking, and nipping at my labia; drawing number eight figures around my clit with the tip of his tongue, to then sinking it deep inside my core. I can’t stop bucking into his mouth over and over.

When was the last time I was given head? Fuck if I know! Darius probably, he was decent, but didn’t do it often. And Thom was so boring at it, I actually preferred he didn’t do it. But this guy is amazing! A real expert in the matter!

“I’m so close! Please… I’m so close,” I wail like a cat in heat, writhing against the door.

Peeta looks up, and despite the horrendous lighting in the room, I realize he’s got the deepest blue eyes I’ve ever seen… too bad I can’t hold his gaze too long, because he starts rubbing my clit with his thumb, while fucking my hole with his tongue, and is all I can do not shout and scalp him in my delirium.

He doesn’t stop drinking my juices while I convulse above him. On the contrary, he retrieves his thumb, but keeps his mouth busy, lapping away all the slick I give him.

It’s too much.

I tug on his hair to pull him off of my sensitive privates.

Peeta takes one last lick with the flat of his tongue and looks up at me, smiling wolfishly, “Was that good?” His beard’s dripping with me, he wipes some of it off on his sleeve.

I snort, unsexy and definitely rude. “You made me cum so hard I saw stars… yeah, it was good. Better than good, really!” I smile down at him, and try to pull him off from the floor.

All the gel holding his curls in place is gone now, rubbed off on my palms. His hair is sticking up on the top and towards the back of his head. I reach up to try and smooth it back, “I’m sorry, I seem to have made a mess of your hair,” I giggle. It’s adorable, but I feel bad that I ruined it.

“You can mess my hair any time you want, Katniss.” He says, almost shyly, he places his hands on my waist, over the bunched up dress.

It’s a big turn on to me, how his words are so flirty, but he delivers them so sweetly and awed. Is unexpected and endearing… which is odd, because I don’t usually find people endearing at all!

We both chuckle.

He licks his lips, and I feel heat pool in my lower belly again.

“Come’ere!” I wrap my hand around his nape, and pull his lips to mine.

He responds immediately, licking the seam of my mouth. I suck on his tongue when he slides it against mine.

He moans.

“Fuck me, Peeta,” I rasp into the kiss, palming his dick through his jeans.

He groans, “Are you sure?” He barely holds back another groan when I squeeze his clothed erection.

“Cock. In me. Now!” I command through gritted teeth, trying to pull his cock out of his pants with one hand, while taking his hand, and splaying it on my boob.

“Okay… shit… this is… surreal! This has never happened to me before!” He kneads my tit, gently.

I’m not sure I was supposed to hear that, so I pretend I didn’t and turn, facing the door to wiggle my ass, in an attempt to convince him.

Peeta makes a noise in his throat, quickly followed by the sound of shifting clothes, and a metallic thump from his belt buckle hitting the toilet.

I whine when Peeta’s warm, heavy cock caressed my bare ass cheek. “Please don’t tease me,” I beg.

“Fuck, Katniss… do you really want this?”

“Yes, Peeta… put your cock inside my cunt, and fuck me all the way to next week! Now!”

His warm body cocoons mine, “Anything you want, sweetheart,” he whispers into my ear, and I feel the blunt head of his cock parting my folds, coating himself with my natural lubricants.

He finds my entrance, pushing inside just the tip. He gasps, “Fuck!” One big hand wraps around my hip to keep me steady, bracing his other arm on the door, above my head.

“Peeta… Please!” I wiggle my ass, making him sink another inch deep.

“Hold still,” He hisses, “I’m trying to hold back… not ramming in too roughly… embarrassing myself, cumming too fast,” His hot breath warms my nape. “You feel like heaven!” He growls, tightening his hold on me.

I’m torn, wishing he’d drill into me without mercy already, while another part of me is grateful he’s trying to stay under control… I don’t know which I want more…

When was the last time I had sex?

As if reading my thoughts, Peeta shares haltingly, “It’s been such a long time for me. I want it to last, but I’m

Not sure if I can,”

I don’t have time to second guess myself, because Peeta’s moving, and he’s massive!

“Don’t hold back!” I bleat, “I want it rough… I want it fast!” I gasp, clenching down on him. I paw at the door for purchase, trying not to face-plant on the cold, hard surface, while Peeta’s fat prick stretches me to the brink of pain! I can’t stay put for him any longer; I buck into him.

“I said to hold still!” He slaps my ass, hard. It stings, but it’s a welcomed feeling.

I moan and melt, finally relaxing enough for him to penetrate me all the way to the hilt. He stays there a moment, breathing harshly into my neck, squeezing my hip on and off.

“You’re so tight. So warm. So wet, Katniss.” He nuzzles my ear, “I’m gonna move now, I apologize beforehand in case this ends too soon for you…” He drags himself slowly out of me, just to plunge right back in with a swift, hard thrust.

I squeak; he grunts..

Peeta holds me by the waist, “You’re so pretty and sexy, Katniss. I can’t decide if you’re real, or the most vivid wet dream I’ve ever had…” he’s fucking me like a jackrabbit in rut.

I’m speechless, vaguely wondering if I didn’t dream him instead?

His cock head hits a spot deep inside me I’ve never reached before. I start babbling nonsense— mostly praising his cock and his strength— I don’t really know what I’m saying, but he seems to be enjoying it thoroughly by the increase in his speed and the volume of his grunts.

I’m joisted up and down his shaft like a rag doll; I wish I’d thought of hanging my stupid little purse somewhere before we started, because now it’s bumping on my thighs, distracting me from the great ducking I’m getting; it’s no matter… I can feel my orgasm building in my belly.

“I’m gonna cum, sweetheart… I want you to cum too,” He nibbles on my earlobe.

“Yes, Peeta! Please make me cum, I’m so close!”

One of his hands slides around my waist to play with my clit, while his other tweaks my nipples over my dress and bra. That, added to the sensation of my g-spot being prodded repeatedly, sends me spinning over the edge.

I must’ve screamed or something, because he clamps his hand over my mouth, and then he’s grunting, digging his forehead between my shoulder blades, and pulling me back against his unyielding body.

“Fuck…” he gasps and shivers behind me. I feel his dick pulsing, his rhythm faltering, and then he goes still.

Peeta sags a little, wedging his shoulder into the door to keep from falling. I’m surprised he still has the strength to hold me up too; I have to be dead weight at this point, since my legs feel like overcooked noodles and my arms gave out a minute ago.

We both try to catch our breaths, too spent and weak for much more, at least for a few minutes.

Peeta stirs. “Are you okay?” He breathes out, ruffling the loose wisps of my hair with his breath.

I chuckle, leaning my sweaty temple on the cool door. “I can’t feel my toes… which is excellent!”

“Good,” he sighs.

Three heart beats later, he straightens up and pulls out of me. An indecent amount of spend flows down my legs as soon as his cock dislodges from my pussy, but Peeta shoves something soft between my thighs quickly, before I have time to freak out about the mess.

I look down mildly curious, staring at an embroidery of a tiny loaf of bread. Vaguely, I wonder if that’s his uniform? He said he was a baker, right? At least he’s named after bread or something. I giggle. “Is this your shirt?” I ask, widening my stance to gracelessly wipe myself clean.

“Yeah,”

“Thank you,” I say, dazedly, turning sideways to smile at him gratefully.

He’s wearing a simple, white, cotton t-shirt when I return the polo to him, now spoiled with cum and slick. I’m caught off guard by how broad shoulder he is, and by how nice he smells… cinnamon and sweat. Weird combination, but pleasant. I wonder if he baked any bread today?

“Um… would you… would you like to put these back on?” He asks awkwardly, leaning down to pick up my discarded panties from besides the foot of the toilet bowl.

I wrinkle my nose, “Not really,” I mumble. “Who knows when was the last time that floor got cleaned. Gross.”

Peeta smiles and shakes his head, “Here,” he grabs his polo, covered in our juices, and wraps my underwear in it. “Now it’s hidden.”

My body is finally catching up with the advanced hour, the beers and the two amazing orgasms. I’m starting to feel sore everywhere, and my eyelids are getting heavy. “Wow… think I’m officially all partied out,” I chuckle weakly.

“Ditto,” Peeta agrees, his smile is shy. “So… there’s this little dinner about two blocks from here,” he starts, eyes downcast; the space seems to shrink around us, now that the frenzy of our physical activities is done with. “Would you like to grab a pancake or som—“

My phone rings, startling us both into silence. I frown, but scramble to find it in my purse, to check who could be calling me… apparently at 2 a.m.!

My frown deepens. Prim’s smiling face flashes on the screen. She was supposed to be getting some herself! “It’s my sister,” I whisper, tamping down my rising panic. I don’t ask if it’s okay to answer, I just do it. “Prim?”

“Where the hell are you?!” I have to pull the phone off, or risk eardrum rupture by my sister’s screeching. “I’ve been texting and calling you! I’ve been worried sick!”

I scowl at the wall, confused and little annoyed, “Prim… Prim, are you okay? Are you hurt? Do you need me to come get you somewhere?” I try to ask.

“What?! No. I’m home! But you aren’t, and I’ve been scared shitless trying to find you!”

I give Peeta an apologetic grimace, and blindly feel around for the lock to get out of the stall. “Um… why are you home so early? Last time I heard from you, you were getting a ride,” I’m trying to sound unaffected; It’s all I can think to say in my mortification.

“Never mind that! Why aren’t you home already? I thought you had to work in the morning and then go to sch—”

While Prim rages at me, I place a hand on the phone and turn to Peeta, still in the stall, awkwardly facing the wall, I assume to grant me some privacy. I’m sure he can hear my sister’s frantic chastisement from where he’s standing. “I’m sorry… you’d think I was a teenager instead of a grown ass adult,” I roll my eyes.

Peeta waves me off good naturedly. “It’s okay. I’m sorry for keeping you so late,”

I’m about to say something else, but Prim yells loudly, something about calling the police and checking the hospitals for me, which truly prompts a reaction from me, “Calm down! I’m still at the club, exactly where you left me!” I cover the phone with my palm again, and turn to him. “I’m… I’m gonna go? Before she threatens to send the marines in,” I try to joke, but our situation takes all the levity out of it, and my attempt dies off, lamely.

Peeta nods, smiling softly; somehow I can tell it’s not genuine.

“Little sisters, right?” I offer halfheartedly, twisting my lips.

“Can I… walk you out at least?” He asks quietly; Prim hasn’t stopped nagging this whole time.

“I… it’s not necessary, but thank you…”

Peeta nods again, looking disappointed.

I don’t get to tell him a proper goodbye, because two dude-bros come in the bathroom, letting the noise from the club filter in; one of the idiots elbows the other, and both start making some lewd comments about me, but Peeta steps in, eyes wild with anger, and tells the guys to knock it off. Prim hears the whole thing of course, and goes nuts herself asking what’s going on?

Peeta looks at me, and motions his head towards the door.

Message received, I step outside the bathroom and book it out of the club, “I’ll be home in a bit. I’m gonna call and Uber,”

“Call me as soon as you’re in it!” Prim demands.

“Fine! Now stop nagging me, will you?!”

I don’t realize I never looked back at Peeta to wave my goodbyes until I’m in the car, heading home. Regret truly is a bitch. I can’t help feeling like I just lost something important, but I have no idea what it is.

>>—————> * <————<<

It’s been a very long Monday. I’m mainly running on caffeine at the moment, and can’t wait to get home and pass out in my fluffy bed, to see if I can catch up on last nights lost hours of sleep.

I enter my last class of the day and find a seat in the middle of the third row. I pull my laptop, a writing pad and my mechanical pencil out of my bag, and watch as my classmates start filtering in one by one, greeting each other and finding their places, lazily.

I’m the oldest student in this class, which is not surprising. I’ve only just come back from my extended— 5 year— sabbatical; and did it only after I was completely sure I could handle my workload and the financial strain of both me and Prim going to college at the same time, without giving myself an early grave.

It’s been hard, but I’m glad I came back to finish my schooling, I only need a handful of credits to graduate, which is great!

I check my watch. We still have a few minutes to kill before class starts. The professor— Dr. Mellark, according to the copy of my schedule— is not here yet, so I pull up the banking app on my phone to give it another glance. The balance is still the same as the last two times I’ve seen it, but it doesn’t hurt to be extra careful when one is on a tight budget. I scheduled payments for the power, gas and rent to go out in the next few days, and I want to make sure there’s enough money in the bank to cover them. We’re looking fine for the month, financially speaking.

The door to the classroom swishes open, and I start signing off my app.

“Good afternoon ladies and germs; I’m doctor Mellark, and provided you’re in this room for an English class, I’ll like to welcome you to the amazing world of Classic Literature!” Says a deep, male voice I find oddly familiar. “By the way, don’t any of you dare to disagree with me on the awesomeness of classic lit… I’m a doctor, I know what I’m talking about… unless you ask me about medicine, then please be free to disregard everything I say, because I’m not ‘that’ kind of doctor!”

A murmure of little chuckles fills the room; even I smile, silencing my phone and putting it away, before looking up at the professor.

I choke on a strangled gasp when I finally set eyes on the man I assume is the teacher, dumping a worn, leather, messenger bag on the desk near the podium. He’s the last person I would’ve expected to have as a professor.

Oblivious to my predicament, Doctor Mellark— or as I know him: Peeta!— keeps introducing himself.

“I’ve been teaching this course for 14th years, but I’m always pleasantly surprised to hear the different points of views my students bring to our discussions on the classics we study, which in a nutshell, is the beauty of this class.” He pulls a ream of paper out of his bag, and gives it to a student in the front, “Please take a syllabus, and pass the rest to the next person, and so on… thank you!”

My face is burning. I think I’m gonna faint.

“But enough about me,” his voice booms, making my whole body shiver. “I don’t normally do roll calls or care about attendance, as long as you’re not missing assignments, and are here during discussions, so this is the first and last time I’ll be reading this list,” he rises a piece of paper above his head, I surmise has the students names on it, and he instructs, before reading, “I’ll call your names, and you’ll introduce yourself, briefly, that way we can all get acquainted with each other, yes?”

Ugh!

He can scratch my name off that list right now! We’re more than acquainted with each other.

Bile rises to my throat. An intrusive, bitter thought pesters me: how many of his students has he gotten ‘that’ familiar with?

But the thought dies off quickly. An even worse, more worrisome thought springs front and center in my mind: Did we use protection?!

Panic rises in my chest, a nervous queasiness settles in my belly; a distant memory of warm goo sliding down my legs comes to mind… Oh shit!

Oh shit, oh shit! We didn’t use a freaking condom? Who does that?!

Oh shit!

Would a Plan B still be effective right now? It’s been less than 24 hours…

Peeta’s reading names. People stand from their seats and talk about themselves. I haven’t heard one word they’ve said, but I’ve been watching how some of the female students bat their eyelashes and speak all breathily, smiling coyly at him… Peeta seems oblivious to the flirting, but I still feel a cocktail of unpleasant feelings in the pit of my stomach.

I realize, I’m jealous!

My ass is frozen in my sit, I’m not even breathing. I don’t think Peeta’s seen me yet, but… what will he do or say once my name comes up? I send a quick prayer to heaven, he won’t recognize me since I look nothing like I did last night at the club, with my hair down and my face all made-up. Right now and plain ol’ me… the rub is gonna be my name. Darn my dad and his awful naming whims!

Soon enough, he reads a name that makes him stutter, “Kat…Katniss? Everdeen?” He does a double take, “Katniss Everdeen…” his eyes are the size of saucers when he scans the lecture hall, swiftly. When he finds me, he looks back down at his paper, and says the name out loud again, unsure, “Katniss Everdeen?” Like he doesn’t believe what he’s reading.

I stand up woodenly, my voice cracks a little, “I’m—I’m Katniss Everdeen… hi!”

I’m about to drop back into my chair, but Peeta kinda mumbles, “You know, Arrowhead, or Katniss is a water plant? The root is edible… like a swamp potato?”

There are quiet little giggles all over the place.

Peeta clears his throat, his eyes flit away; his face’s blank of emotion, but his cheeks seem pinker than a second earlier, “I just read that online, believe it or not. Interesting facts about local flora, people. Reading is knowledge, but so is learning from one another… what can you tell us about yourself, Miss Everdeen, besides that you have a very unique first name?”

“I…” I harrumph, avoiding eye contact with Peeta at all costs, “I’m a part time student. Majoring in Botany. I took this class to fulfill my last English credits requirement for graduation. I do love books and classic literature, in particular.”

“Thank you… Miss Everdeen,” he rasps.

I sit down, clumsily, hoping this horrible, horrible moment is just a nightmare and that I’ll wake up any second now, drooling on my desk, with indentations of my notepad on my cheek, because anything would be less embarrassing than what I’m going through at this point.

Mercifully, Peeta calls a different name, and then another, and then another. I don’t look up from my notepad once.

Peeta for his part, sounds stiff and monotonous— or so I’d like to think— no more jokes or clever sayings. Maybe he’s not as affected as I am about this ordeal, and I’m just making it a bigger deal than it really is? Maybe he does have experience sleeping with students— I mean, it’s not unheard off, right?— Not that either of us had any idea we were engaging in a teacher-student affair last night…

Although, calling it an affair is generous; it was a measly one night stand. A chance encounter. Two people letting off steam before a busy week ahead.

I’m getting increasingly angry with all this thinking… and the class seems to drag on. It feels like an eternity, and my mind keeps churning up all kinds of questions: Why would he not say he was a teacher at this particular college? Did he lie about being a baker? Is his name even Peeta?

I scoffed at the thought.

To my horror, I hear him ask, “Anything to say, Miss Everdeen?”

Looking up at him requires a great deal of bravery and self admonishment, but I do my best and face him— he’s wearing glasses now, which makes my belly tightened for inexplicable reasons— “No, Doctor Mellark, nothing of consequence anyway,” I retort as venemosly as possible, without alerting anyone else there’s something weird going on between me and the professor.

Peeta grimaces slightly. Then looks away, “Very well, as I was saying, we will start with the basics: The Iliad and Moby Dick, since those are High school level works, I expect your reports to be sufficiently well researched, and your personal ideas on the text somewhat fleshed out. It doesn’t have to be in-depth. I’m just looking to determine everyone’s style and needs for the semester ahead…” he continues his spiel, and I feel free to go back to my stewing and my musings.

Before I know it, Peeta’s dismissing the class, wishing everyone a good rest of their evening.

I jump into action, packing my stuff with my head bowed, but then I hear him again.

“Miss Everdeen, a private word, please?” It’s much too quiet to have been said from his podium. I still startled when I look up and find him standing right against the first row of desks, directly in front of me.

His face is not quite stern, but he’s definitely less smiley than when we met.

I force down a gasp, because under the better lighting of the lecture hall, and close up, I can see a plethora of details I missed at the club; like the arresting blue of his eyes, the slight reddish of his neatly trimmed beard, peppered with silver whiskers all over, while his perfectly combed hair is almost all silver on the temples, and ashy blonde on the top. His shoulders are even broader than I remember.

He’s overall stockier than I originally thought, and just a smidge shorter, which is fine, he’s still the most handsome man I’ve ever met, and I wouldn’t mind climbing him like a tree—

I shake my head off the intrusive, lecheros thoughts. I’m literally lusting after my teacher, for goodness sakes! This is beyond a silly schoolgirl crush!

Peeta arches one dark blonde eyebrow at me, expectantly.

I nod curtly, because my tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth, and gesture for him to lead the way.

I shove my laptop into my bag, and hastily shoulder the straps, hugging my writing pad to my chest, following my professor like a chastened little girl.

My stupid eyes find his ass, and I blink twice, at the exquisite sight in front of me. I groan internally.

He grabs his own bag, takes off his spectacles and slides them into his shirt pocket.

How old is this man?! He said he’s been teaching this class for 14 years, when do professors start their teaching careers? How did I never see him before now roaming campus? Is his age the reason he ate pussy like a master?

I shake my head, cursing my horny brain.

Peeta opens a door I have no idea how we came across, and then stands aside, gesturing for me to go in first.

I duck my head and step into a warmly decorated office, with a small desk and two chairs in the middle of the room. Bookshelves full of tomes line the office. A handful of pictures and framed diplomas hang from the only available wall space in the room, but I don’t get to study them before he catches my undivided attention.

“Let me start by apologizing,” Peeta stars, closing the door behind himself, “I assure you, it wasn’t my intention to cause you any stress, or embarrassment out there.” He pauses, “Would you like to sit?” He offers, wincing. He doesn’t wait and steps around me, to pace on the other side of his desk, “I… um, never been in this position before,” he scowls, “I’m not sure what assurances I can offer at the moment, except, that I will start the process to recuse myself from this class immediately, to not interfere with your academic—“

“Recuse yourself?” I cut him off, “what do you mean?”

Peeta squirms a little, and sits down heavily on his chair. My bag slides off my shoulder, and I just dump it in the empty chair I was offered a moment ago.

“Well, Miss Everdeen, it’s the right thing to do, given our circumstances. We’ve breached the appropriate boundaries of our pupil and teacher positions, and staying in the same class together will put you at a disadvantage… is a power imbalance situation, that calls for action.”

“Can you stop calling me ‘Miss Everdeen’? It’s weird…”

“I’m just trying to maintain an acceptable level of decorum between us,” he says sheepishly.

“That ship has already sailed,” I say tiredly.

“Perhaps, but it’s my responsibility to still try,” he rubs his forehead. “Anyway, I’ll call my department and see what is next. Stepping down myself is the only fair solution I see so far… it would be terribly unfair to ask you to switch classes. Simply disrespectful, but we both can agree this uncomfortable situation needs to be nipped in the bud, for both our sakes, Miss Everdeen.”

“This is bullshit!” I snap, “What happened in that club, isn’t that terrible of a problem! What we really need to do is stop acting so stiffly and guilty. By the way, you sound like a walking thesaurus!” I accuse, looking him in the eyes for the first time since he called my name at the lecture hall. “Stop it!”

Peeta inhales deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Miss Everdeen, our actions last night may have been honest, and even innocent in nature, but they still carry consequences… unexpected ones, especially in light of the facts. And the facts are, that it would be unethical for me to remain in a position of authority over you. In any case… if you feel the need to report me to the school administration, for… harassment or inappropriate behavior or anything else, I won’t dispute any claims. I promise to distance myself from you and give you space so you can continue with your education without interference, in a safe environment.”

I grunt, “I’m not going to report you, because you didn’t do anything wrong. Sure, I thought you were a baker… I mean your story about your name, and that little loaf of bread embroidered into your shirt, I thought it was your uniform,” I shrug one shoulder.

“Sorry about that… I never meant to mislead you,” he says bashful.

I ignore him, “Either way, I was the one pulling you into that bathroom. I threw myself at you. I begged you to do things to me, and you just granted me my wishes…” like a sexy gentleman, “The sex is on me. I’m 26 years old, I’m not some bumbling teenager who hasn’t learned to take responsibility for her actions, so, please… stop trying to shield me, or protect me, or whatever it is you’re doing,” my arms flap around in frustration. I finally push my bag off the chair, and sink into it. “Look, Peeta—“

“Professor…” he corrects, frowning a little.

I roll my eyes, if he knew he’s just making it sound kinkier than it already is, he wouldn’t be so adamant about the freaking titles.

“Fine… Doctor Mellark,” I enunciate, pettily. “I specifically chose your class as my last English elective for two reasons. One: it’s exactly the amount of credits I need to graduate at the end of the semester. And two: it fits my schedule to a T, which is important, since I do have a full time job when I’m not a college student. So, I’m sure we can both be adults about this unfortunate situation, and simply forge on. There’s no need for you to recuse from teaching this class, and I have absolutely no intention of switching. We both can wear our big people britches, and pretend last night was a… what did you call it?” I wave my hands, as if the answer will materialize from thin air, “A vivid wet dream? And leave it at that!”

Peeta glares at me, looking aggravated for the first time since I met him. “It’ll be unethical to continue like everything is normal, Miss Everdeen.” Peeta argues, stubbornly.

“Nobody has to know about last night,” I say, exasperated, then a horrifying thought flashes in my mind, “Unless you bragged about it already!”

“No!” He straightens in his chair, looking offended, “I would never do something so vile,” He looks indignant, “plus, the fact still remains that something did happen last night, and I know about it! I can’t, in good faith, be your teacher.”

“Are you planning on showing me favoritism because you know what my pussy tastes like, Peeta?” I deadpan, “Or are you gonna blackmail me into doing it again?”

“Stop calling me Peeta!” He growls through his teeth, his very thick fingers clenching into fists on his armrests.

I blink at his reaction owlishly, realizing I’m truly pushing it this time.

“I’ve always prided myself on keeping my nose clean. Being a decent man and tutor. Never in 17 years of teaching have I slept with a co-ed, let alone a student in my own class.” He breathes deeply, then pins me to my chair, with those arresting blue eyes of his, burning with controlled anger, “I would never extort you or anyone for sexual favors, Katniss. While I don’t really want to lose my tenure or face other disciplinary actions from the school authorities, the one thing I truly don’t want to damage are my personal standards, and my self image.

“Katniss, I’m already biased when it comes to you. Being your professor won’t be exactly fair to anyone. I’m not saying I would give you A’s willy-nilly, nor that I would grade your papers any differently than I’d do your peers or that I’d be less critical of your work,”

“That’s reassuring,” I roll my eyes. “You’re telling me that if I bring you a shit essay, you might not be persuaded to let me redo it?”

He sighs, “I don’t know…” he scratches the back of his neck, “I’ll most likely hover over your desk a disproportionate amount of time compared to your classmates. There’s also a chance I’ll call on your name more often than the rest of them?”

“I still don’t hear one unscrupulous, wrong reason, why you can’t do your job, and teach this class.”

We sit there, staring at each other, at an impasse.

“Why are you so set on keeping me in that room, Miss Everdeen?” He asks, softly.

Finally, I relent, relaxing my tense shoulders, and exhaling tiredly. I raise my hands in defeat. “I don’t know, Peeta. Because I want to protect you, the same way you’re trying to protect me. But… recuse yourself if you have to. I still believe you’re a better man than your urges.”

Peeta relaxes in his chair too, “Thank you, Katniss.You didn’t have to say that, specially because you don’t know me. It still means a lot.”

I chew the inside of my lip, calculating stuff in my head. “You’re right, I don’t know you, but I consider myself an okay judge of character.” He opened this door, it’s time for me to walk through it, “Can I ask you some stuff?” I ask innocently.

Peeta arches his eyebrows. “Shoot,” he says.

“How old are you?”

“45. I’m sorry. I knew you were young last night… I just didn’t quite grasp just how young,” his eyes shift downwards, sheepish and uncomfortable.

“I’m an adult. I’ve been the head of my family for years. At this point, age is irrelevant for me.” I state, dismissively.

“What about your family?” He asks, tilting his head sideways.

It takes me a minute to answer. I cross my arms over my stomach, and exhale, “It’s been only Primrose and I for five years now. My mother had cancer. My father passed when I was eleven.” I rock in my chair, slightly, “That’s why my sister was being such a clingy bitch last night. She can’t bear to lose anyone else. Neither can I for that matter.”

Peeta leans forward on his desk. “I’m so sorry to hear that, Katniss.”

I sit back, feeling like a huge weight just got lifted off my shoulders. “It’s okay, really. I’m back in school, about to finish my last semester, Prim is doing great in university, the only debt we have right now is Prim’s car and my Target card… we are actually okay,” I smile, meekly at him.

“That’s… that’s good, Katniss. Admirable, really.”

“Peeta?” I start cautiously, “Would you really remove yourself from the class because of me?”

He looks me right in the eye, sincerity emanating fro his eyes. “Absolutely. Without hesitation. As soon as you leave, I’ll email my Head of Department, explaining my situation. Don’t worry, I won’t mention any names or details—“

I shake my head, vehemently.

Peeta squints, studying me cautiously, measuring me.

“Please… stay with me…”

Something in my tone catches his attention, and he eyes me curiously. “I’ve already told you why I can’t,” he says, almost soothingly.

I stand up. Go around my chair, and drop back down into it. I start shaking my leg nervously. “I had this feeling in my gut since last night. Like I lost something precious, I just couldn’t put a finger on it… I still can’t, to be honest. All I know, in my loins, is that I can’t let you step down from your position, and I sure as hell won’t walk away on you without figuring out what this…” I wiggle my fingers, pointing to the mouth of my stomach, “feeling is about.”

He stares at me.

I stand up again, and this time I just pace, to the wall with the pictures, and stare at a bunch of faces, too similar to Peeta’s not to be related to him somehow.

“I know I’m not making sense, but I just needed to say that.”

He watches me for a long beat, weighing his options no doubt, before answering, “I can’t be your teacher, Katniss…” he sighs, and rubs his forehead, “because I’m afraid seeing you every week, without being able to touch you will be absolute torture.”

“Really?” I bite my lip, giving him an open once over, not feeling one iota self conscious about. “How come?”

Peeta huffs, avoiding my eyes. “I’d be wondering what your breasts look like the whole time.” He confesses, flatly. “I didn’t get a chance to see them last night, and it kept me awake an indecent amount of time.” He twists his lips, “I’m gonna be pinning the whole semester, whether you’re in the classroom or not, craving the taste of your juices in my tongue, and worse of all, I’ll probably embarrass myself, giving me involuntary hard on’s just fantasizing about you.”

I practically prowl towards him. “You poor thing,” I coo, pouting. “Would you go home to masturbate on the soiled pair of panties I left behind on that dirty, bathroom floor?” I ask… more like, purr, really.

Peeta chuffs out an incredulous laugh, covering his face with both hands. He grunts, “Aw, fuck! That sounds so… it’s probably exactly what could happen. I’d try to stay professional in the classroom, but in the privacy of my home…” he chuckles weakly, shaking his head.

“What kind of fantasies are we entertaining here?” I ask, invested, and sit on the corner of his desk.

Peeta thins out his mouth, “Katniss… that’s a slippery slope you’re trying to climb,” he warns.

“Humor me?” I cajole.

He takes a stuttering breath. “I’ll bring you into this office, same way I did today, except I’ll rip your clothes off, throw you on the desk and take you hard and fast. From behind.”

I can’t stop a small sound at the back of my throat, nor the need to rub my thighs together.

I clear my throat, “I expect you’d want to fuck me on every surface in this office?”

Peeta pulls on the collar of his shirt, his face turning crimson, “And probably the lecture hall as well,” he adds conversationally.

I nod, scooting closer to where he sits. “I’m curious too you know. I didn’t get to see ‘any’ part of you naked. But my muscles still are deliciously sore from last night. A girl has to wonder… just how big a dick has to be to cause so much wreckage?”

It doesn’t take much effort at all to work him up. Peeta’s pants are tented in what looks like the most uncomfortable erection ever; he shifts in his chair to try and hide the effect my words have on him, yet, his hands remain folded on his lap, white knuckled with the effort of keeping himself in check. He’s really committed not to touch me while I’m still his student, but he rasps a question, full of concern.

“Did I hurt you?” His eyes search me, earnestly. “I’m sorry I was too rough, really,”

My heart gives a little somersault. “No, Peeta. You were pure perfection. I loved how you handled me.”

His lips twitch, and I’m amazed at how expressive his face is, even partially hidden under his near facial hair. “You said you were hungry last night before you got on your knees…” I murmur, “I think, next time I’ll return the favor,”

“Next time?”

I slide closer to him, but we both keep our hands to ourselves.

I lick my lips, resisting the urge to drop on my knees between his legs and gobble up his cock. I didn’t lie about wanting to see him in all his naked glory, but I can show the same level of restraint he does; I respect him for trying to keep a moral and ethical compass.

I smirk at him, slyly. “Are you sure you wanna abandon your post as my professor, now that my education is on the balance? We can wait a handful of months, Doctor Mellark… I promise not to tease you,” With that, I mean, I promise not to aggravate what could potentially be the worst case of blue balls in the history of slow burns.

Peeta hisses a mirthless chuckle, “You’re too much of a temptation, even if you don’t actively try teasing me, Katniss,”

I start playing with the end of my braided, dark hair. “You know what I’m most really looking forward to, from when I’m no longer your student?” I pose, shyly, “Going to that dinner you mentioned last night.” I shrug one shoulder. “I’ll let you buy me a stack of pancakes to celebrate my graduation. I’ll probably introduce you to my sister, Primrose… and we’d go from there… if you wanted to…”

Peeta smiles, disarmingly. “I’d love that too, Miss Everdeen.” He says quietly.

I let go of my braid, and hug myself, “Stay in the class?” I practically beg one last time. “We can do it, I know we can. We can have a platonic, completely innocent teacher-student relationship until I’m done with college,”

Peeta shakes his head. “We’ll see after I talk to my head of department. Who knows, maybe all the schedules are already locked in place, and I have no other choice but to stay put. There’s no guarantee a replacement is available for me.”

“We’ll make it work!” I say enthusiastically.

“Maybe…” he sighs, not entirely convinced.

I pull my phone out of my pocket to check the time. Time is running out, I gotta get to the pharmacy before my window of opportunity closes.

“Hey, Peeta… um, invasive, weird question?”

I wait for him to nod.

“Have you by any chance, have gotten a vasectomy at any point?”

“Mmm no, never had. Why?”

Aw shit!

I bite the inside of my cheek. “Hopefully no reason.” I say quickly, too nonchalant for my own good, and he catches on it, I can see the gears turning in his brain, “Okay,” I make a big show of yawning and stretching my arms, “I have to run some errands before going home and crashing for the night.”

Peeta cringes, “Are you… okay? Really, okay? You said you were sore?” His eyes rove over my face full of concern.

“I’m fine,” I smile, “nothing a long soaking in Epsom salts can’t cure.”

“Okay,” he says, unsure. “I don’t want to overstep any worse than I already have, but… I’ve been anxious, wondering if you were alright, if you got home fine to your sister since you left the club. Which, obviously you did… but, I wanted to kick myself for not asking your number, just to be able to check on you… and this is frown upon, a d completely unethical, but—“

“I’ll email you,” I say quickly. “Nothing explicit. But I’ll let you know I’m home and okay.” I’ve spoken to people in code before, this shouldn’t be a problem, and really, sending my professor an email with a time stamp and some innocuous question about the syllabus doesn’t have to be nefarious at all.

“Alright… Just let me know if there’s anything wrong, okay? I swear this won’t become a routine thing or anything, just this time, to give me peace of mind, and because it is late… and well, yesterday…”

“It’s fine, professor. I don’t mind. And… everything will work out,” I say shouldering my bag and pocketing my phone, “everything will work out, even if my Plan B doesn’t,” I smile and scurry out the door, before the puzzlement in his face has time to settle.

After all, a semester is only 15 weeks long, give or take… that’s plenty of time to figure things out.

#alliswell21 #animekpopxx #prompt 144 #Springtime Edition 2021 #submission

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farfromsugafanfic · 4 years ago

Text

Dance Lessons

Genre: Hogwarts AU, friends to lovers, fluff

Pairing: Hoseok/Reader

Warnings: drinking, mentions of bullying, tooth rotting fluff

Synopsis: Your friends are absolutely stunned when you say you’re not going to attend Yule Ball. When they find out it’s because your embarrassed to dance, your friend Hobi offers to give you a lesson. If only he knew he was the reason why.

Note: I’m not really satisfied with this but I’ve been blocked lately and it’s the best I can do at the moment. I’ll probably write him another Hogwarts AU eventually with a better concept. Regardless, I hope you enjoy this fluffy mess of a one shot

vVv

"So," Taehyung said. "Does everyone have dates for Yule Ball yet?" His cheeks were stuffed with hot dumplings, but he didn't seem to notice as steam escaped his mouth.

You tried sinking into the bench and took a bite of your mash potatoes, hoping that by stuffing your mouth no one would pry further. Luckily, someone else piped up before you.

"I'm going with Hye-jung," your best friend, Hoseok said.

Your heart dropped and you shoveled another spoonful of potatoes into your mouth. Bangers and mash is your ultimate comfort food--the magic of Hogwarts and the house elves somehow knowing you needed it.

"It's so unfair that the two best dancers always go together," Jinjoo said. She glanced over at you. You imagined that your red hair resembled a lion's main and your cheeks matched the color. "You always steal the show."

Hobi shrugged. "We just dance well together."

"It's not like you like Hye-jung though," you said, finally swallowed the potatoes and carefully used a cooling spell to quell the heat that had risen in your cheeks. "What if someone asked you otherwise? Would you go with them?"

Hoseok looked down at his bowl of ramen and stirred it before looking back up. "I don't know. It would depend on who it was."

A moment of silence passed over the four of you. Despite the mass chatter of the rest of the Great Hall, the quiet passed between you like a dense morning fog.

"What about you, Taehyung?" Hobi asked. "Who's your date?"

"Oh, uh," Taehyung squirmed in his seat. "I asked Jinjoo."

Jinjoo smiled and bit back a laugh. "And I said yes. Goodness Tae, there's no reason to be so shy."

You caught the small way Jinjoo continued to smile, even after she returned to eating. While it came as a surprise that Taehyung and Jinjoo were going together, the two had always seemed to click in a way you didn't seem to understand. Much like you and Hoseok.

"What about you, Y/N?" Hobi asked, turning to look at you. His large brown eyes bore into you like a hungry puppy's. "Have you found some poor soul to take you yet?"

"I, uh," you glanced between your friends. Jinjoo shot you a sympathetic look and Taehyung watched you blankly, waiting for you to continue. "I'm not going."

Your friends all paused and three pairs of eyes looked at you with concern and pity. This is exactly what you were afraid of and you had to hold yourself back from sighing and letting your face fall in your hands.

"You don't have to have a date, you know? You can come with me and Tae," Jinjoo said, looping her arm with Taehyung's.

"No, no," you said. "It was my choice, really. I would just drag down whoever I'm with."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

You turned away from Jinjoo because you felt another pair of eyes on you. Hobi was still looking at you, a small line forming between his brows as his eyes looked you up and down.

"It's not that I don't have a date. It's that I can't dance."

Your friends were silent before breaking out into laughter. "Is that really why?"

"Y/N, we've all seen you dance before. What's the big deal?"

You were certain none of them remembered and you knew you shouldn't have let it bother you so much. You shook your head, trying to change the subject.

vVv

It was the last party before the summer. Hufflepuff had won the House Cup for the first time in twenty years. Fire whiskey and spiked butterbeer were making the rounds. Being close to the kitchens meant that the Hufflepuffs were closest to the stash of alcohol for the professors and house elves.

"You know, it's ironic we're breaking all these rules after we won the House Cup," you said, simultaneously stuffing three bottles of Fire whiskey into your bag with an extendable charm.

"We were good all year," Jinjoo said, miniaturizing bottles and putting them into her sweatshirt pocket. You laughed and quickly zipped up your bag, careful to leave a few bottles behind so that it wouldn't be obvious that students had swiped some from the stash.

The majority of Hufflepuff House barely remembers the rest of the night. Most of the first through third years had fallen asleep or drank so much they passed out, the mid-years were barely coherent and keeping the party going, and the sixth and seventh years had either called it a night or sat in the corner pretending to keep an eye on the younger ones.

Your friends were a mix. Jinjoo had fallen asleep on Taehyung's shoulder and Taehyung pretended not to be absolutely charmed. He didn't drink, but had eaten enough that night that he might as well have been in a stupor as well. Hoseok--despite normally becoming a depressed and tired version of himself--was out on the dancefloor with the fourth and fifth years. His eyes wore dark cloaks and he looked nearly ready to collapse at any moment, yet he still stayed perfectly on beat.

"Y/N!" he called to you from the dancefloor. He held up the half full beer bottle in his hand as an invitation. "Come dance!"

Your body stiffened. It wasn't that you didn't like dancing, it was usually just something you did on the rare occasions that you had the dorm room to yourself. Hoseok, though, dance was practically his life. He might be at Hogwarts studying magic, but before that he'd been at a fancy muggle arts school studying dance. Hoseok even took dance classes over the summer.

It seemed somewhat stupid to worry about what Hoseok would think. He was one of your longest friends, having met on your first day of Hogwarts after you got sorted into Hufflepuff directly after him. His smile never failed to let you down and there was nothing in the world--you thought--that would ever dim the brightness Hoseok made you feel.

Yet, much of his sun set when he drank. While he still ruled the dancefloor, you could see the chemically induced exhaustion and depression weighing under his eyes. As you approached him, he wore a small, forced smile. His hand reached out for your wrist and you felt electricity spark through you like you'd been hit with a hex.

You started bobbing up and down like you'd watched the other kids who didn't know how to dance do. You felt awkward, all of the movement coming from your knees. You imagined that you probably looked pretty awkward too.

Hobi, on the other hand, was moving flawlessly to the beat. Popping and locking in a way that looked fluid and clean, like a well oiled machine. His natural talent was always something you'd admired about him. Yet, you couldn't help but compare yourself with your best friend. Why did he want to dance with you when he was so good and you were just--well--bad?

Hobi let out a small, half hearted laugh. "Looks like you could use some dance lessons." His hands reached out and lightly took your hips, something he never would've been bold enough to do sober. If the small touch to your wrist was a hex, this was the Cruciatus curse. "Come on, just move your hips in time with the music."

When you failed to do so, not exactly sure what he meant by 'time', he let out a full belly laugh this time, though it was interrupted by a Butterbeer induced belch. "You really are bad. Didn't think they knew what they were talking about?"

Your body froze and your face fell. "Who didn't you think they knew what you were talking about?"

Hoseok pointed to the opposite side of the room from where you had stood earlier. "Mary and Perri. They bet me a galleon that you'd make a fool of yourself if I invited you to dance."

At this, your heart sank. Hufflepuff--despite its value of kindness overall--still had its bullies. And they were Mary and Perri, a pair of twins who loved to torment you and flirted with Hoseok any chance they got. Normally, Hoseok was polite to them, but would generally avoid their presence. A sober Hoseok never would've made some stupid bet and told the twins that he loved your awkward little bend at the knee dance.

Knowing this wasn't the true Hoseok didn't stop your chest from constricting and the words from slicing through your chest. You wanted to cry, but more than anything wanted to get out of the party. Hoseok--even in his drunken state--paused when he noticed the pained look on your face.

Before he could ask what was wrong or say anything else idiotic, you said, "I just remembered I have a lot of packing to do before we leave tomorrow. I'll--I'll see you in the morning."

Heading to the room you shared the rest of the fifth soon-to-be sixth years, you changed into your pajamas and threw your clothes into one of your already packed suitcases. It didn't take you long to find sleep.

vVv

You were positive that Hoseok doesn't remember that night. In fact, based upon his fuzzy recollection that he was the one who received the last few points needed to win the Cup, you knew he barely remembered anything after three pm that day.

As you came out of your thoughts, it felt like you were breaching the surface of the water. Like someone pulled you out before you could lose consciousness and drown.

"If you're really so worried about it, I bet there's like a potion or a charm or something that could make you dance better."

You paused with another scoop of mashed potatoes halfway to your mouth. You'd never considered that possibility. Leave it to Jinjoo--the smartest girl you knew outside of Ravenclaw--to so blatantly put it out there.

"Or, I could teach you," Hoseok said, his voice holding a different quality than normal. "You don't need to do anything fancy."

You were about to politely decline in favor of Jinjoo's idea when she spoke up. "Actually, I like that idea better. Hoseok could give you better moves than any potion." She glanced over at Taehyung and they seemed to share a moment.

"We could use the Room of Requirement too. That way no one would find us and you won't be too embarrassed."

You could hardly argue with his logic and there was something about the look in Hoseok's eyes that had you agreeing. He was one of your oldest friends, yet, you'd never seen him look at anyone with his eyes softened like they were.

"Meet me there tonight then," Hoseok said. "Just after curfew."

vVv

Casting the Disillusionment Charm, you crept down the corridor towards the Room of Requirement. You and your friends had done this many times when you wanted to hang out after curfew outside the dorms. Never once had you been caught. Still, you felt your heart racing as your turned down the correct corridor.

Entering the Room of Requirement, you let down the charm and saw Hoseok standing near the middle of the room. The room had transformed itself into a small dance studio with mirrors along one of the walls and shiny hardwood floors.

"Hey Y/N," Hoseok said, his heart-shaped smile not allowing your heart to slow. "Ready?" He approached you and his hand came to your wrist. His thumb running over the delicate skin of the inside of your wrist, it made you shudder. "You seem nervous."

You shook your head, denying the obvious. He didn't push you further, simply turning on some music. "Just dance," he said, beginning his own fluid movements. He played some muggle music that you'd never heard before, but you liked the beat. No matter what he did, it seemed to move perfectly to the beat of the music.

You tried your best to follow along, moving your hips in small restricted movements. Occasionally, you tried to bring your arms into it, but would quickly drop them back to your sides when you realized you didn't know what to do with them.

Hoseok laughed, but unlike before where his drunken laugh cut through your skin and bone, this time, it seemed to rise with the crescendo of the music.

"You're cute," he said. "I don't need to teach you anything."

You stopped and the music stopped too. As if controlled by your thoughts and actions. Hoseok's gaze returned to the one from earlier in the cafeteria, soft but also penetrating. Like a dull knife through butter.

"But, people make fun of me," you said, pouting. This only made Hoseok laugh again and he moved closer to you, lightly grabbing your chin and making you look up at him. His other hand lightly grabbed your wrist. You swore that the room's temperature rose.

"Who makes fun of you?" Velvet was the only way to describe his voice.

"Mary and Perri."

"Since when do you care what they think?"

"Well, they're not the only ones."

"Mm?" Hoseok arched an eyebrow, but otherwise, his face stayed static. The emotions you could read sitting somewhere between content and provocative.

"It was also--"

"Me?"

You felt the blood drain from your face and your whole body stiffen. When he felt you go rigid, Hoseok loosened his touch on your wrist, but didn't pull away.

"You remember?"

"No, I don't."

"Then, how do you--?

Hoseok pointed up to his head, an amused look on his face. "I'm practicing Legilimency, remember?"

He read your mind. Jung Hoseok read your mind. Nothing made you want to crawl into a ball and disappear into a far corner of the Room of Requirement more.

"I didn't really mean to, but your mind is so easy to walk into. You really should work on that." He winked at you and pulled you into his chest. He'd noticed the way you brought your hands to cover your face and let your hair fall in from of your cheeks. His hands wrapped around your back and held you softly. "I am sorry, Y/N. The alcohol isn't an excuse for what I said or did, even if I don't remember it. It was stupid and untrue."

You pulled your head from the warm embrace of his chest to look up at him. "I forgave you a long time ago, Hobi. I know you didn't mean it."

"So, if I tell you that I think it's cute when you dance and are a little offbeat, will you go to Yule Ball with me?"

"Aren't you going with Hye-jung?"

"There's been a change of plans."

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3pirouette · 3 years ago

Text

A Red, White, and Blue Christmas (10/?)

By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette

Disclaimer: They’re not mine.

Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :)

Story Summary: White Christmas AU. Peggy is pulled from Project Rebirth, setting off a chain of events that leaves Steve and Bucky unharmed at the end of the War, but never having met. Until, that is, their paths cross as professional performers. Steggy Secret Santa gift for @roboticonography

Chapter 9: They’re Doing Choreography

Chapter Summary: Steve and Peggy’s dance around one another takes a few turns…

Chapter A/N: Baby It’s Cold Outside makes another appearance. If it’s not your thing skip the section where they’re on stage, but please don’t skip the whole chapter.

~*~

Steve moved across the stage, hand running over the furniture pieces they’d taken from the Inn’s storage to create the small living room set. “This looks amazing, Will.”

“Thank you, sir. We did what we could on short notice, but I think it’s coming together.” The young man smiled, holding his clipboard tight to his chest. “Are you thinking of adding this into the show? It would be a great filler for those seven minutes.”

“Something like that,” Steve muttered, still unsure of how he and Bucky were going to make adding the girls into the show work, still unsure of how to ask them or if they’d even want to do it. Steve stopped moving, leaning his hip against the small love seat and crossed his arms. “What do we still have left?”

“Just some costumes and the set for the finale.” Will flipped through his notes. “We have yours, of course, and Mister Barnes has said he’ll take care of his own, but most other things we’ve needed to make from scratch.”

Steve hung his head, pinching his fingers at the bridge of his nose. “Why did I agree to that?”

“Because, as Barnes said,” Peggy’s voice floated over to him as she joined him on stage, “It will put derrieres in chairs.” She smiled wide as he looked up at her, having a hard time avoiding his own smile. “Had my own fitting this morning, but Ana wouldn’t tell me what the costume was going to look like.” She leaned forward, letting her hand run over his arm. “And it, uh, would help if we ever rehearsed the number.”

“If we don’t rehearse it, I can just cut it last minute,” he replied, eyes only for her.

“Considering it’s just about the only thing we’ve been advertising for this show,” Will started, oblivious to the way the two of them were holding each other’s gaze, “I would advise against it.” He looked back up from his clipboard, smiling. “We’re ready for the rehearsal whenever you are.” He turned away, then turned back suddenly. “Oh, and Miss Carter?”

“Yes?” She asked, barely flicking her eyes from Steve’s.

“Mister Jarvis asked me to let you know he has a telegram for you.”

“Thank you,” she replied, taking Steve’s proffered hand and moving to the couch with him as Will moved off stage, calling for silence in the room.

“I was thinking we could start here,” Steve kept hold of her hand. “There will be a table, and some prop glasses, but we don’t have those yet.”

Peggy crossed her legs at her ankles, squeezing Steve’s hand as the band started to tune below them and stage lights flickered on and off around them. “And then?”

He shrugged, looking around at the little set. “Well, like I said, I’m not much of a dancer, so I thought we could just…”

“Improv?” Peggy smiled, as the band started to come together.

“Well,” he looked down at their hands, “I didn’t really know what the set was going to look like either, so…”

The band quieted, then counted off, and the music started in earnest. Peggy felt the warm stirring of contentment low in her belly, and moved closer on instinct. “I really can’t stay,” she sang, scooting herself closer to Steve.

His smooth voice calling back to her wasn’t really a surprise. She’d heard him sing before, but that had always been on a record or while she was in an audience. Even last night he hadn’t been singing in earnest. Being so close, feeling his warm tenor reverberate through her body, knowing he was singing to her, well, that was an altogether different experience. They slowly drifted towards each other over the next few lines until Peggy turned her body, snuggling her back into his chest as she sang. “This evening has been so very nice.”

Steve’s fingers filled the spaces between hers, holding her tight to him as he sang back, “I’ll hold your hands, they’re just like ice.”

When she turned her head, his bright blue eyes were right there, looking down at her and she didn’t want to do anything other than cuddle closer into his strong embrace, but she knew it would make for awfully boring staging. She pulled away, “My mother will start to worry,” standing and rounding the couch until she could side both hands down over his shoulders to lean down next to him as they sang.

Steve popped up, sitting on the back edge of the couch so he was face to face with her again, letting his fingers fall through her hair as he sang back. “Beautiful, what’s your hurry?”

Peggy felt empowered, and flirtatious, as they sang to one another, the dark of the theater providing a false sense of privacy, the music allowing her to feel bold as she slid her hands along his chest, moving away from him to the false window where Will had explained they’d fill in a fake snow scene before the show opened. She made a spectacle of looking out past curtains that weren’t there while she sang.

Steve’s body pressed up against hers from behind, his hands resting at her hips. His voice was almost a purr as he sang just over the crown of her head.

She turned into his arms, and he almost looked alarmed before she started leading him in a gentle sway across the stage.

~*~

“Well, hot damn,” Angie whispered, leaning over to Bucky as they watched the duet from the audience. “I think we’re way past pushing them together and a lot closer to being called Auntie Angie and Uncle Buck.”

Bucky shook his head, a wide grin plastered on his face as he watched Steve and Peggy sway across the stage as they sang. “Kid moves like an oblivious snail his entire life then she comes along and it’s full speed ahead.”

“You’re telling me,” Angie whispered back. “I ain’t never seen her look twice at a guy and now I think I could yell ‘fire’ and she wouldn’t even look away.”

Bucky laughed as the lines about drinks came and went without either even pretending to pour or have a drink, Steve turning them back to the couch instead where he sat on the arm and Peggy settled standing between his thighs, fingers playing at his collar as she sang. He started to lean down to make a note about prop glasses when her heard Phillips behind him.

“I thought I told you to keep that scrawny kid under control.”

Bucky turned in his chair, nearly knocking over the stacked crates in front of him.

Phillips shook his head, lips pressed together. “Those two… acting like horny teenagers up there.” He huffed, moving past Angie and Bucky in their seats. “Forget about not having any guests, these two are going to get me shut down for indecency!”

Bucky stood, knowing exactly what Phillips meant, but reluctant to stop the two holding each other close on stage. “Well, it’s just a rehearsal, sir, I—”

“Rogers! Carter!”

Steve and Peggy jumped apart, the notes they were singing dying on their lips as they looked out in the darkness, the band halting at the yelling with discordant notes.

“What in the hell are you two doing up there?” Phillips moved forward, hands on his hips.

“Singing, sir,” Steve replied, confused.

“Last time I checked,” Phillips squinted as the lights came on, but he pressed forward, “Singing required a lot less touching.” He shook his head slowly, disappointment radiating off him as he walked away.

Steve and Peggy stood, motionless, as they watched him leave.

“I, uh,” Bucky started, stepping forward and scratching his head. “I think we need to work on some staging for that one.”

~*~

Peggy walked through the lobby, stopping at the desk and waiting. Mister Jarvis, who was usually very attentive, continued to stare out into space, hands fidgeting with the pen between his fingers. After a moment, Peggy grew concerned. “Mister Jarvis?”

Her voice seemed to get through to him, and his head snapped to her, surprised at her presence. “Why, Miss Carter, whatever can I do for you?”

Peggy looked him over, but decided not pry. “I was told you have a telegram for me?”

“Oh! Yes.” Jervis patted down his pockets until he found the little yellow envelope, still seeming a million miles away. “It’s a standing offer from the Stork Club in New York for anytime you and Miss Martinelli are available.” He handed it over to her.

Peggy took it, looking at the seemingly unbroken seal, and gave him a sly smile. “Did you hold it up to the light?”

“Steam,” he replied without thought. “Quicker and leaves no trace.”

“We could have used you during the war,” Peggy mused, pulling out the paper and reading it for herself, though it said exactly what Mister Jarvis had relayed.

“Oh, heavy is the head, Miss Carter,” Jarvis mumbled, eyes staring far out the window.

Peggy set down the telegram and leaned on the counter. “Are you quite alright, Mister Jarvis?” She tipped her head, really looking closely at him. “Shall I call Ana?”

“No, no, I’m…” He sighed, looking around then leaning down to her. “I’ve come into knowledge of some very disappointing news, indeed, and am unsure of how to proceed.”

Peggy leaned in, whispering herself. “Perhaps I can help.”

He opened and closed his mouth over and over, doing quite the impression of a fish before he finally frowned and shook his head. “I cannot.”

Peggy stood tall, calling on all her SSR training to help her. “You can and you will.”

“Well, it’s just that…” He shook his head and looked profoundly sad. “Did you know Mister Rogers and Mister Barnes are planning on putting the whole show on television?”

“Television?” While Peggy knew she didn’t know every detail, she had felt sure that she’d known all the big ones, and this was something she did not know.

“Here. On Christmas Eve.” Jarvis looked around to make sure they were alone. “I overheard Mister Rogers speaking with Timothy Dugan while they made arrangements.”

“Overheard,” her eyes narrowed, skeptical, “or eavesdropped?”

“Does it matter?” Jarvis asked, expression bordering on wild. “The fact is, I heard them planning to expose the Colonel on live television, coast to coast.”

“Expose is a harsh word.” Peggy felt a sinking in the pit of her stomach. “No, Mister Jarvis, I really just can’t believe—”

He slipped out from behind the desk, his voice still low and conspiratorial. “Over a quarter of a million dollars in free publicity for Rogers and Barnes, at least. Why, they put on this show, tug at the heartstrings of America by showcasing him as down-on-his-luck and forgotten, and what’s left of the poor Colonel’s pride then?”

Peggy stood tall, trying to trust what she knew of the man she was falling head over heels for. “No, Steve wouldn’t be involved in something like that. You must be mistaken.”

Mister Jarvis’ face fell and he stood, his voice soft but less frantic. “I’m sorry, Miss Carter, but I heard the whole thing myself.”

They were interrupted by Bucky, strolling in, completely unaware of the gravity of their conversation. “Jarvis! Peg! Perfect!” He smiled, stepping right up to the counter. “Either of you see Steve?”

“Not since Phillips ran us offstage,” Peggy replied, short and curt. The interruption had been embarrassing enough, but combined with what she’d just heard, well, she was surprised she was even speaking calmly.

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that,” he shrugged. “Stevie and I will come up with something that’ll still be a knock out but that won’t bother him so much.” He turned to Jarvis. “Do you know if Steve made a call to New York?”

“He did, sir,” Jarvis replied cordially, moving away from the desk to attend nearly anything else to keep himself busy.

Bucky nodded smartly. “That’s great!”

“I hear that television’s entered the picture,” Peggy led, considering Barnes a mark for the first time.

Barnes, thinking Peggy must have heard what was happening from Steve, smiled brightly at her. “So, it all got worked out, huh?”

It wasn’t a confession, but it was enough to confirm some things. “Seems it has.”

“Great little angle, isn’t it?”

Bucky thought she’d be happy at his words, expected her to join in his positivity, and she had to try to hide how it made her stomach drop and her heart clench. “Oh, it’s something, alright.”

He leaned forward, “Listen, don’t spill the beans, ok? We wouldn’t want the Colonel catching wind of it ahead of time.”

Peggy felt ice start to run through her veins. “Oh, of course. I could see why you’d want to keep it a secret.”

Peggy was about to make her excuses to go and think everything over when Angie bounded in. “English! Steve’s looking for you!”

Peggy turned, lifting a sharp brow. “Oh, he is, is he?”

Angie stuttered back a step, knowing that look on her friend. She spoke just a little gentler. “Yeah, said he has a few ideas to get on the Colonel’s good side.”

Her voice came out harsh and cold as she turned and started moving towards. “I’m sure he does.”

Bucky waited until she was gone before he looked down at Angie. “What’s with her?”

“I don’t know.” She leaned into Bucky’s side, looking back at the door Peggy’d just gone through. “I’d say she was embarrassed by Phillips earlier, but I’ve never seen her like that over anything as silly as being a little too close to someone on stage.” Angie shook her head and looked back up at Bucky. “Wasn’t like we caught them doing something private,” she leaned heavily on the inuendo. “They were just singin’.”

Bucky grabbed her hand and led her out towards the buffet lunch set up in the lobby. “I really hope she isn’t getting cold feet just because Phillips was being a jerk.”

Angie stopped, grabbing her dish and tapping her nails on it. “I have an idea, but I gotta think on it.”

“Ok, well, let’s think about it over a sandwich, then. I’m famished.”

~*~

“Peg! Perfect.” Steve stood, moving around the little set as she walked in the empty theater. “I was thinking we could start over here by the door instead, then around by a little wet bar with some prop glasses we can put together,” he smiled, sidestepping around the space, “then finish here on the couch.” He paused, looking at her and back to the small loveseat. He stopped, looking at her blank face, eager to hear her opinion. “What do you think?”

Peggy looked between him and the couch, jaw clenched tight. She was confused, and hurt, and didn’t quite know what to think about the accusations Jarvis had tossed around. She wanted to ask him about it, to beg him to tell her it wasn’t true, but she was afraid to find out that he was just pulling another angle just like every other man she’d met in this business and that he wasn’t the man she thought he was at all.

Steve stepped closer to her, shoving his hands in his pockets, nodding at her silence. “We really should have talked about what we were going to do before we did the number.”

“Perhaps,” she mumbled, sadness and anger warring within her as she struggled to keep a straight face.

A blush crept up his cheeks and he stammered a bit as he moved next to her. “I got a little carried away there, I’ll admit that.”

Peggy felt a wave of sadness. Any other time she would have been charmed by his little half smile and the bright twinkle in his eyes, or the way he’s said “carried away” as if they both hadn’t been wishing they’d been alone right at that moment. Now, it just hurt. It hurt to think someone she had thought so highly of could be so cruel. It hurt to think all the love and excitement and anticipation she’d felt just an hour before was for nothing.

It hurt to think she’d been so wrong about him.

“I think we both did,” Peggy finally said softly, looking away, trying to quell the urge to fight with him.

Steve swallowed, hard. “Are you…” He stopped, back tracked, and started again. “I know it was… embarrassing today, the way he just stopped everything.”

Peggy’s eyes shot back at him, hard an accusing, but she didn’t say a word.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean…. I was…. I think we…”

There was a part of her that felt bad for him, a part of her that was charmed at how he seemed to realize just what another girl might have felt at being caught being so familiar on stage. Peggy wasn’t ashamed of what they did, or overly embarrassed that anyone had seen them. She didn’t quite care at all how Phillips felt about her and Steve.

Not that there would be a ‘them’ anymore, not after what Jarvis had told her.

Not that there ever was a ‘them’ to start with… not really.

“That doesn’t bother me,” Peggy replied evenly.

Steve seemed surprised, and stared at her for a long moment. “Well, we should just talk through it, then, come up with something that’s family friendly for everyone,” he tried to force a smile, “and we’ll be good to go.”

Peggy couldn’t look at him. “I don’t think so.”

He had to sidestep to get into her line of sight. “No?”

“No.” She shook her head, and forced herself to look into his eyes. “I don’t think I’m the right person for this.”

His confusion started to morph into frustration at her cool reception of his plans. “Right for it? Peggy, Bucky picked it out with us in mind. You sound great singing it. You’re gonna be a sensation, Peggy.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, fighting to keep eye contact. “I don’t think so.”

“Peg,” Steve whispered, stepping closer to share his secret, “Buck and I got plans. There is so much more than just a few shows in Vermont going on here, and if you’d—”

She stepped back, fighting the tears in her eyes at the thought of the plans he had, at how he’d just confirmed everything Jarvis had said. “Well,” she started, icily, “far be it from me to get in the way of the plans of the great Rogers and Barnes.”

Steve set his hands on his hips, frustration finally wining out. “And what do you mean by that?”

“I don’t mean anything, Mr. Rogers. Not one thing.”

He took a deep breath. “If you have something to say, say it. I don’t have time for this today, Peggy. We have rehearsals all day and—”

Peggy turned, moving across the stage and down the stairs, desperate to keep him from seeing the tears that were starting to pool in her eyes. “Well then, I better be getting on my way and let you get back to your precious rehearsals.”

“I guess so,” Steve called back, anger starting to permeate his tone. “Looks like I’ll be having to find a new partner for that number, just another thing to add to the list now!”

Peggy kept moving, fighting back the emotion that welled in her throat, head held high as she left the hall. She kept walking, trying to calm her pounding heart.

She didn’t know what she was going to do, but she couldn’t be involved with whatever they planned on doing with Phillips on television.

She just couldn’t.

#steggysecretsanta #Steggy Fic #3P's Fic #YES I'm still writing my secret santa #no it's not done #I'm TRYING

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hansolmates · 4 years ago

Text

jjk; angel’s trumpet [03]

summary; one second, your life is flashing before your eyes and the next, you’re transported into a world exactly like your own. but the jungkook you meet in this world isn’t a renowned singer or your former almost-lover, in fact he has no clue who you are and why you know him so well. as you work to find your way home lost and confused, you conclude that you’re either dead or in the middle of the most wicked drug trip of your life. pairing; idol!jk x reader (f), alternatively film producer!jk x reader genre/warnings; fluff, angst, supernatural, idol!au, non-idol!au, alternate universes, themes of fate, language, alcohol consumption, mentions of smut in future chapters w.c; 5k a/n; we’re finally getting into some traction with the main plot! who are we liking more so far, w1!jk or w2!jk??

[02] [03] [04]-> masterpost

Instead of going to the doctor, you take a trip to the library. If Namjoon thinks your ideas are supernatural, you’re going to find someone who believes in the supernatural.

He calls you in the morning just to make sure you’re going to his recommended doctor. You fabricate a lie that the doctor friend he recommended is busy so you’re going to go find another one in the meantime. Just in case Namjoon decides to ask said doctor about your current mental and physical state, you want to make sure you cover your tracks. As much as you want to give it another go and help Namjoon understand your precarious situation, you weren’t up for another possibility of rejection.

You wanted to avoid Namjoon’s rejection so much that you’d rather turn to unconventional alternatives to finding your answer.

Unfortunately, Tony Stark and Steven Strange do not exist in this universe, and therefore you need to turn to more practical measures.

Seoul University has a zillion libraries, and you decide to go to the general library in the hopes you’ll find something in the subject of world-hopping. Unfortunately you haven’t been in a huge library since you were a senior in college, and the smell of paper, sad students and ink all but overwhelms you.

You’re about to start wandering when a young voice snatches your attention. “Miss,” you feel a tug at your belt loop, and you notice a little boy looking up at you with a pout. “I lost my way after using the bathroom and I can’t find the daycare.”

A little part of you wonders who on earth could’ve let a boy no older than five out of their sights, especially in such a spacious building. Alas, you smile and offer him your hand, suggesting that the two of you look for a map.

“Well it’s a good thing we found each other!” you say brightly, encouraging the kid to follow you to the kiosk, “I was just about to look for a map because I’m a little lost too, we can read it together.”

The boy tells you his name is Bogum, and you respond with yours and explain that it’s okay to get lost, especially when this library is so big. He listens to you with rapt attention, wide eyes as you spell out the words “daycare” using the little paper map you brought with you from the lobby.

Bogum and you stop in front of a plain room with a cheap powder blue baby gate, deep in the children’s section of the library. It’s there that you spot five or so children huddled over the flatscreen television, ‘oh’ and ‘ah’-ing over whatever film’s prattling on. You’re not surprised that Frozen 2 remains a sensation in both worlds.

Bogum opens the door first, and you make eye contact with the only adult in the room. He’s lean and friendly-looking, holding a child in their lap as they sing along to “Into the Unknown”. Your heart is caught in your throat, begging to be released as your eyes widen in surprise.

“Hobi!” you blurt instinctively, but you immediately clamp your mouth upon realizing. You really need to get used to this, but honestly how can anyone get used to this kind of situation? Hoseok will definitely be the fourth person you’ve alarmed in the past five days.

Hoseok’s jaw drops slightly, head tilted as the rest of the mini-crew train their eyes on you. You shrink in the presence of children, knowing from experience nothing gets by them.

“Is that your girlfriend, Hobi-ah?”

“Do you know her, Mr. Hoseok?”

“She looks scared, what did you do?”

The affronted man presses his lips in a thin line, “Dunno,” he answers vaguely. He seems unperturbed, hands settling in his traffic cone orange sweatpants. He gestures to the snacks in the middle of the room, releasing the children’s inner fire for food, “but it’s fruit snack time! Go ahead and grab your water from the cubbies, you can eat while you watch.”

The babies cheer, and you smile fondly as the kids rip open their packets and giggle over Olaf. You wish you could go back to simpler times.

“So,” Hoseok stands up, and gestures for you to sit at the small kids table in the back, “Do I know you? I don’t know if I know you, but I feel like I know you. Because you know me.”

Deciding you need to sit down for his bombardment you squeeze your legs into the worn Fisher-Price desk, running your nails over the crayon stains and pencil shavings. “Uh, no?”

“Did we have a class together? Hook-up? Friend’s hook-up that I tried to coerce into a threesome?”

“Ohmygod, there are children here!” you hiss, but Hoseok just smiles plainly, offering you a bag of fruit snacks that he snagged before the children emptied his bowl. You accept the gesture, unable to make eye contact.

Seeing the members out of their clan of seven is still jarring to you. You can’t imagine a world without the seven of them together. Like they always say, Bangtan is fate.

“I just wanted to return Bogum,” you say, crinkling the foil bag in your grasp, “and I’m actually looking for a professor who has her office hours here. I have uh, questions on my thesis on alternate universes.”

“Ah, are you referring to Professor Song?” you nod, “she cancelled her office hours for today, if you bothered to email her. And anyways, she doesn’t take kindly to questions on supernatural phenomena. Not since her latest book on paranormal channeling tanked.”

Your face visibly falls, dejected. You probably should’ve tried to schedule an appointment. “O-oh.”

“But as a non-judgemental soul, I would be happy to assist you on your ‘thesis’.” Hoseok air-quotes, noting that the kids are only in the very beginning of Frozen 2 and they have a whole hour and a half to their own devices. “And in exchange, I want to know the real reason as to why you’re looking for her, especially because you referred to me so excitedly as Hobi, and not Hoseok,” he crosses his arms, “and only my mother and sister have the right to call me that.”

You feel like a kid sent to the time-out corner, inevitably forced to fess up. It didn’t work out as well as you hoped with Namjoon, and you feared to be disappointed when Hoseok disagreed with you as well. Of course, you can’t blame them. If Hoseok came up to you and said he came from an alternate universe, you’d run for the hills.

But Hoseok is sweet and sincere, and he’s definitely not letting you go. In fact, he’s empathetic, already distressed from seeing you sweating and wringing the poor fruit snack packet.

He drags over a mini chalkboard cart, poised to take notes. “C’mon, I won’t bite.”

You frown, “Promise you won’t laugh at me until the very end?”

“Promise.”

Forty minutes later and in the turning point of Frozen 2, Hoseok has drawn up what looks like a convoluted flowchart detailing every single thing you’ve said up until this point. It reminds you of a child’s drawing, symbolizing all the dead-ends and turns of your life, but you’re sure Hoseok doesn’t want to hear that.

Within the first ten minutes of your story, Hoseok is shaking his head. “That’s crazy. C’mon, prove it. If we’re really friends in an alternate universe, how much do you know about me?”

Hoseok's face falls farther and farther into his lap as you respond with a straight face. His birthday, favorite foods, hobbies, music taste, and even feelings towards melodramatic movies are laid out in your words like a personal diary.

He crosses his arms, narrowing his eyes. “Tell a secret that you know about me.”

That stumps you. You make a face, stuffing a strawberry gummy in your mouth as you think about any conversation you could’ve possibly had with Hoseok in the past year. There’s a possibility that whatever happened to Hoseok in your world hasn’t happened in this one, but you have to at least try.

With as much confidence as you can muster you say, “When you were in the 3rd grade, your older sister was playing with sticks in your backyard and accidentally stabbed you.”

He narrows his carmine eyes, “Where?”

“Left breast,” you chirp, “under the nipple.”

Hoseok’s face twists like he’s in the 8th dimension, and he clutches his left breast comically. “You’re either psychic or telling the truth,” he marvels, nearly cracking the bud of chalk in his fingertips.

You fight the urge to sigh in relief, running a hand through your hair. You can’t believe that actually worked.

“Okay so obviously because I need to know my alter-self, what’s Jung Hoseok like in World One?”

“World One?” you snort.

“Yeah, since it’s your home world. This is World Two, because this is your second reality.” He says as if it’s the most obvious thing, waving his hands in the air.

“You’re a rapper and incredible dancer in the world’s top boy band.” and Hoseok doesn’t know whether to think you’re an impeccable actor or really telling the truth by the way you smile so tenderly. “And you managed to get your mom the barbeque restaurant she always wanted. Best place for pork belly wraps.”

And because you know he’s a softie for his mother, you already have a tissue stretched out for him, confirming that you have him convinced. Seeing it all laid out terrifies him, not because he’s scared of someone infiltrating his reality, but because you’re lost. You’re lost and you can’t go home and he can feel like he’s known you all this time. Not because you know every single fact about him under the sun, but something tells him you were meant to find him today.

“So, you got hit by a truck in World One, and end up in World Two just like that?” you nod again, and Hoseok starts to line up whatever code he’s created on the blackboard. “What were you doing before that?”

“I went drinking with my friend Sehlyung.”

“Uh-huh, and before that?”

“Got into a fight with the guy I love.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“Even worse, he ended up being the first person I met once I entered your world.”

Hoseok blinks, “That’s gotta count for something, right?”

Your face sours, “Impossible. Jungkook didn’t recognize me either.”

“Anything else happened that day? Perhaps something to do with the both of you? It can’t just be coincidence,” Hoseok insists, and you almost see the potential theories looming over his head.

Wishing you bought some aspirin on your way, you pinch your brows together. You’ve recollected that night one too many times that it’s been starting to overwhelm you. You hate thinking back to how harshly Jungkook rejected you. How much his words pierced you clean like you were soft and breakable. The twist in the knife was seeing him again in this world, only for him to reject you again for an entirely different reason.

“Wait,” you bite your lip, the final memory from your last conversation with Jungkook resurfacing.

“Maybe in another world, we’d work out. But not this one.”

“He said maybe we’d be together in another world,” you say slowly, the words sinking in your form like a key to a lock.

Hoseok snaps his fingers, a huge white grin beaming on his face. “Shit, this is straight out of the Twilight Zone or something. Cool!”

It’s then that the credits roll for Frozen 2, and the children are pouncing on him like leeches to a sweet treat. They laugh and beg for his attention, teasing him because he said the s-word.

“I’m sure this Jungkook kid has something to do with why you’re here—ow, Haneul! My hair is precious!” Hoseok is busy fending off kids and trying to continue your conversation. He gets up from the tiny chair to prevent them from reaching, and you follow suit. “In the meantime,” he reaches for your phone, typing something, “here’s some books Professor Song recommended to me when I was fascinated in alternate universes. Maybe they’ll help, I don’t know. But good luck, update me when you get a chance! I work here most days.”

“Thanks Hoseok,” and before you can second guess yourself, you find space between the children to wrap your arms around him. Thankfully, he doesn’t push you away, and hugs you back just as tightly. You can’t help it, and bury your face into his shoulder, trying to conceal your sobs. He even smells like World One Hoseok. You miss them.

The rest of your afternoon is spent in the library, searching for book after book regarding the supernatural and other phenomena. A little part of you hoped Hoseok would join you in your navigation, but he had a job and you had yours. He already offered you an ear and much, much more.

You feel a little stir-crazy, despite the fact that these books could contain important information, only Jungkook’s words seem to register in your brain.

“Maybe in another world, we’d work out. But not this one.”

You groan, stretching out your back so you could reach the final book out of Hoseok’s recommendations. You blush when your joints complain about your lack of exercise and sudden exertion of physical activity. This last one just so happens to be on the highest possible shelf. There’s really no need to have more than five books on supernatural phenomena, but you’re already here and it’s vermillion red cover is taunting you like a bull to its matador.

Fuck it. Making sure no librarians are watching, you hop on the first shelf, heels dangling in the air. You could climb trees like it was nothing when you’re a child, but ten years later you can feel all the joints in your body protest at the sudden bout of athleticism.

Alas, even with the added height you can barely reach the top, fingers brushing over the hardcover. You’re starting to sweat with nerves, thankful for the whirring of the icy air conditioner. With a sigh you attempt to climb on the next highest shelf, until the familiar smell of detergent and florals invades your personal space. Even his scent is the same.

“Y’know, there’s a help desk for a reason.”

Your shoulders slump as Jungkook wordlessly instructs you to get down from the shelf. You feel the warmth of his palm shadow your back, not touching you but prepared to in the event you slip and fall. With a cross of your arms, you hug your books to your chest, refusing to make eye contact as he retrieves the book for you. Call it being petty, or overly defensive because of past events, but you’re not ready to talk to Jungkook right now.

Conversely, Jungkook is piqued. He’s lived here for the past six years and it’s the first time he’s seen you in this library. Twice in the span of two weeks is definitely something worth noting, especially when his new co-worker just so happens to be friends with you.

In fact he’s excited, curious. He just entered the library, dropping off some proofs for his graduate school’s office when he spotted you in the corner of one of the shelves, determined. Something warm and light brings a smile to his face when he sees how endearing you look trying to get that too-high book. Despite the fact that he’s still on the fence about your sanity, he wants to make sure you don’t almost-die a second time from head injury.

“Here ya go,” He easily grabs the book and Jungkook is prepared to plop the book in your pile, but you’re hugging the others so tightly that he has to wedge it between two other ones.

You press your lips together as Jungkook goes into your personal space, miffed that you’re being a little defensive. After all, you’re embarrassed from the last time you saw him and you’re heart is beating wildly, confused over the man in front of you. It takes a wiggle before you concede, letting him tuck the red novel between two other larger books.

“Thanks,” you mumble, nodding at him once before swiftly turning the corner, skirt swishing.

The smile on his face is wiped clean when you don’t even bother to spare him a little eye contact.

“Hey, wait up!” he exclaims, and he’s immediately shh’ed by at least five students and an angry librarian. He deflates, giving sheepish bows as he walk-runs after you.

He feels like the tables have turned, now he’s the one chasing after you. Should he apologize for leaving you on the sidewalk two weeks ago? Should he offer to hold your books, or drive you home? Maybe not drive you home, because he brought his bike today and he fears that you may be traumatized by the fact that you almost ate pavement under his wheels. If he has to ease into it, maybe he could offer his phone number up as compensation for accidentally almost-killing you? Suggest that his number is for you to contact him as an IOU. Smooth.

You look over your shoulder briefly, suppressing a groan as Jungkook makes it painfully obvious that this is not the end of your interaction. He’s boring into you, looking past you and his eyes are dark with information. As much as you want to know what’s going on in his mind, seeing Hoseok and Jungkook within the same hour is wholly overwhelming, especially when you just laid your whole life story out to Hoseok in a daycare.

He’s now staring holes in your back as you hand over your books and work identification to the unsuspecting librarian, who chalks up your awkwardness between two friends toeing around a relationship. To the unsuspecting eye, it’s not out of the ordinary. You can’t just tell Jungkook to “kindly fuck off because I’m still processing your existence” because he’s really done nothing wrong. Inevitable, you let him heat your skin with his imploring eyes until he starts to squirm like a garden snake. He’s waiting for you, silently begging you to turn your head and acknowledge how hard his brain is working right now. This boy is always after attention.

Finally, you spare him. “Yes?” you say softly, keeping your focus on the bookkeeper checking you out as Jungkook hovers over your form.

“Uh,” he scratches his head, searching for words, “are you hurt? Y’know, from the other day?”

“Judging from the way I was prepared to climb the shelves, no,” you stuff the books in your tote bag, “are you hurt?”

“Uh, no.”

“Okay. That’s good.” You brush past him, making it a blatant point to stride out the first door you see.

Even with all the telltale signs, Jungkook continues to feel something. An urge, a bell, something. He doesn’t know what, but he’s compelled to follow you. For a small thing you sure know how to walk, and he has to pump his legs a little to catch up with your speedy form.

He follows you to the middle of the campus courtyard, where students are lounging about and studying or playing football. It’s already starting to turn dark, and the orange sky sits impatiently on your bodies as you try to walk as fast as possible to your apartment.

“Hey—hey, c’mon!” his long legs manage to get close enough to you, but he has to halt as soon as you stop, whipping around to glare at him.

Jungkook stumbles as you’re centimeters away from him, visibly annoyed. You’re super close, impossibly close to him. He holds his breath, fearing he’d fan your face and you wouldn’t appreciate his chicken-salad breath. He doesn’t understand why you’re upset, but he wants to jab a thumb between your brows and even out the adorable expression that pinches your visage.

“What, do you need something from a stranger?” you bite icily, and he doesn’t understand the pang in his chest when you refer to each other as strangers. It’s true, you are, but you don’t have to be so harsh about it.

“I, I just want to know why you knew my name,” he replies weakly, hands going up as if he committed a crime. “Back then, I’ve been confused ever since,” it’s wholly innocent, and genuine, “I just wanted to know if you’re okay, I guess?”

It’s then you soften, melting like the yolk in the sky. The strap of your bag digs in your palm, the leather probably indenting your skin.

“I got really drunk last night,” you concede, and at the very least it’s the truth, “probably woke up drunk too. I stumbled outside and when I saw you, and mistook you for another Jungkook I know.”

You’re pulling this excuse out of your ass, and you hope that someone watching you from above (or below) will give you a reprieve on this one. He seems to believe this notion, probably used to one too many drunk girls fawning over him half-sane.

“Another Jungkook?” he balks, mouth parting like a baby kitten, “a Jungkook with the same name and face?”

“Uh kinda, like Mario and Wario?” you say, and you know Jungkook will get the reference if he remains a video game lover, “what’s that called, doppelgangers?”

“I’m partial to Luigi and Waluigi, but I get it.” he replies with a small smile, proud to have gotten you to open up, even a little. “That’s cool. I’m sorry for freaking out back there.”

“Understandable,” you look at the grass crunching at your feet. You definitely understood, but it still hurt recollecting the way he pushed you off of him like a bug. “I’m sorry for mistaking you, I just kinda stumbled out of an apartment and got walking, I thought I was in a dream or something.”

“So uh, where’s this other Jungkook?” and it’s an innocent enough question, and he’s almost boyish about it, rocking back and forth with his hands in his jeans. “I’ve always wanted to meet my own twin, I just didn’t expect them living in Korea and having the same name. That’s like a two for one deal!”

You wince, avoiding the way Jungkook tries to bend down to match your eyes. “He’s uh, not around anymore. Completely gone,” you mutter.

Completely gone? Did that mean the person you were worrying about on the streets, the person who you worried over so thoughtfully in place of Jungkook, is dead?

Jungkook puffs out a breath of air, running a hand through his hair. Boy, does he feel like a piece of shit for bringing up tough memories. “I’m so sorry,” he gushes, voice cracking as he tries to get you to lift your head, “I was just being nosy, alright? The fact that you knew my name freaked me out and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. And when I saw you in the library I pounced but I realize that this is such a huge mistake and—”

“Jungkook,” you hold up a hand, a twinge of a smile barely grazing your lips, “I already told you, it’s understandable you would’ve been freaked out. Don’t blame yourself,” you size him up a little, looking up and down and he automatically straightens his back. He feels his ears heat beneath his hair, “but you look like the type of guy to be too hard on himself.”

He laughs, nodding profusely, “So I’ve been told.” Feeling lighter at the assurance of your feelings, he sticks out his hand, “then can we call a truce?”

It’s then you see it.

“Tiger lilies,” you marvel, hands reaching out instinctively to touch the tattoo adorning his arm. It’s the same design, same position, the dark ink vibrant as ever.

“It’s my birth flower,” he puffs out his chest a bit, feeling elated that someone appreciates the fine art he spent weeks drafting. Tattoos aren’t particularly popular in this area, so he can’t help but feel a little cheeky that someone’s attracted to them. He watches the way your eyes sparkle over the black ink, the most positive emotion he’s gotten out of you since meeting. “Tiger lilies, they mean—”

“Please love me,” you finish, letting go of his arms so it drops to his side. You finally look up at him, and your eyes prick.

He looks so much like him, it hurts. Seeing Hoseok and Namjoon also pained you considerably, but nothing compared to how much it ached to have Jungkook around, vying for your attention. How well you knew his body, and how much you wish you could hug him. Today he’s even dressed a little similarly to how you’re used to, soft and comfortable in black sweats and a Carhartt hoodie. But this Jungkook isn’t scarred by the industry, and it fills the curiosity that plagued you for days on end. Your Jungkook is always vibrant, but the one in front of you is radiant. He’s young, eager, and ready to take on the world.

Jungkook grins, impressed by your knowledge. He wonders about your birth flower, and whether you have it tattooed somewhere on your body. “Is that your birth flower too?” he asks, debating on whether or not it’s too late to ask you out for coffee because evening is approaching. Maybe dinner was more appropriate? But it would be like a date? Maybe pizza or McDonalds to keep it casual?

You see the gears turning in his head, and you feel like you’ve wasted too much time thinking. “Ah, no,” you flounder, rapidly shaking your head, “just some random information I’ve picked up.”

“Are you into flower meanings?” he tilts his head.

“Not particularly,” you say ominously, and you try not to ache when he seems disheartened at your lack of elaboration, “but I will be. I’ll see you around, Jungkook.”

You can tell he has more to say, especially because Jungkook is one to finish what he starts. But you can’t give him that satisfaction now, not when you’re onto something. You spare him a wave over your shoulder, not wanting to see the disappointment in his face when you leave him in the dust for a second time.

And with that unpromised promise, you go back into the direction of your apartment. You have some extensive research to do tonight.

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

W1.

Jungkook wakes up to the sun, and he bolts up in his bed.

“Hey!” he yells to no one in particular, knowing his voice is loud enough to echo throughout the dorm. “Why did no one call me? We had practice!”

Instead of passing out in the studio he’s wrapped up in his sheets, bundled comfortably as if he’s been in bed for hours. He’s almost disoriented, looking around the room and waiting for someone to barge in and tell him to hurry up and get somewhere.

After working on his music, the seven of them were supposed to meet up. The plan was to take a nap from ten to eleven, and be at the studio to go over some modifications to a new setlist. However, those plans evidently did not go through, because he had a full night’s sleep for the first time in weeks and that only happens if there’s a schedule cancellation or vacation.

He feels particularly antsy because he couldn’t work on anything last night. His mind was like tunnel vision, completely filled by visions of you and last night’s fight. It’s frustrating, especially when there’s so much he’s behind on already.

But today’s a new day. He takes his time in his room, popping out all his joints and doing leg and arm stretches on his mattress. For once, no one’s ushering him away to do the nth task. He mindlessly scrolls his phone, taking note of the insistence for him to return to social media but pins it away for yet another promise of next time.

Mindlessly clicking his phone button on and off, his wallpaper shows a picture of your back facing the sunset. An old, innocent picture that could be mistaken for a random shot Jungkook stole on an empty night in Dongdaemun. With a sigh he throws his phone somewhere between the sheets, rubbing his eyes. There’s nothing he can do now but move forward, and he takes that in stride.

But when he walks out of his room, the air feels terse. It’s strange, as if he could cut through the tension in the room with a butterknife.

He looks on in confusion to see all the other members settled in the living room, hovered over their phones. They’re all still in their clothes from last night as well, grave expressions on their faces.

Someone’s choked sobs are echoing from a corner of the room, and Jungkook is worried when he sees Taehyung sobbing in Hoseok’s arms.

“What happened?” he asks, brows knitting together as he walks over to Namjoon, looking over his phone.

Namjoon immediately presses his phone to his chest, concealing whatever is on the screen. Jungkook’s heart pangs at his block, because Namjoon isn’t one to hide things. He’s feeling cut out of a secret so deep that it must be either a secret, or something he shouldn’t see. “It’s,” he takes a deep breath, and Jungkook feels it. He feels that whatever Namjoon has to say is going to be hard.

Seokjin speaks up for the leader, bright eyes that always spark like fireworks now dim. “We got a call from Sehlyung early this morning. Before it got light out she—she was frantic. She said Camille wasn’t answering her calls after they went drinking.”

No. No.

“Then BigHit got a call from the hospital. They said a truck hit the curb, knocking her clean,” it doesn’t even sound like Seokjin’s speaking, just the shell of him, regurgitating information. “She’s alive, but it’s critical, no one’s allowed to see her until she’s stable. We don’t know when,” Seokjin bites his lip, choosing his words carefully, “or if, she’ll wake up.”

Jungkook doesn’t even register that he’s crying until Seokjin pulls him into his arms.

#jungkook fic #bts fic #goldenclosetnet #jungkook fluff #jungkook scenarios #bts scenarios

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k-llama-llama · 4 years ago

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Change Yourself

Everglow AU: 7th member

Mya/Enya x Everglow

Mya is attempting to become an athletic person....and it isn’t going great.

A/N: ALSO CHECK OUT MY PATREON FOR ACCESS TO EXCLUSIVE CONTENT AND EARLY ACCESS (patreon.com/kllamallama)

Requests are OPEN!!!

Masterlist and other Follow Me links in bio!

“I can’t do it.” Mya declared, clinging onto the pull-up bar.

“Yes, you can.” Seungyoun tried lifting her legs again. “You haven’t even done one pull-up.”

“Because I can’t!” Mya struggled. Even with him supporting most of her body weight, she couldn’t do it.

“You’d better do it!”

“Nope.” Mya let go of the bar, and dropped down so she was sitting on his shoulder. She looked down at him, to find him glaring up at her. “See?”

“You let go.” He dropped her to the ground, and she landed on her butt with a thump. “I don’t know why I agreed to workout with you. You’re useless.”

“Yah.” Mya lay back on the floor, stretching out on the cool gym mats. “I asked. And anyways, I thought we were having fun.”

“I’m supposed to be doing my own workout, and instead I’m trying to convince you to do yours.” He nudged her with his foot. “Get back up.”

“Urgh, no.” Mya rolled over. “Do your own thing. I’ll just stick to dieting.”

“No you won’t.” Seungyoun rolled his eyes, before hopping up onto the pull-up bar.

“I know, but I’d rather do that that this.” She rested her chin on the mat, looking up at him as he easily did the pull-ups. “Do you have to rub it in?”

“Yes.” He didn’t even seem phased. “Why the sudden interest in working out anyways? You’ve never tried to come to the gym without someone forcing you.”

Mya looked down at the floor. The real reason, of course, was that the guy she was currently seeing was incredibly attractive and she wanted to stay in shape. But she didn’t think she could handle the teasing if he knew that that was the reason.

“We’re going to have a comeback soon, and I just want to look my best.” She finally said.

“You’re already tiny.” Seungyoun pointed out.

“Yeah, but I want to be like...toned.” Mya gestured to her stomach. “I have a belly button piercing now and I want to show it off and look hot.”

“You’re twelve, you can’t look hot.” He snorted.

“I can to.” Mya frowned.

“Hey, Mimi!” Onda walked into the gym. “Oh, hello.” She bowed to Seungyoun, who nodded in response.

“What’s up?” Mya asked, pushing herself up into a sitting position.

“I was going to work on my Sour Candy dance cover.” Onda said. “You said you wanted to do it with me, right?”

“Oh, yeah!” Mya quickly climbed to her feet. “I totally forgot.”

“You’re filming a dance cover now?” Seungyoun stopped doing pull-ups. “What has got into you?”

Onda winced, quickly trying to cover for her. “She’s a really good dancer.”

“She’s average.” Seungyoun crossed his arms. “Dancing, working out....this wouldn’t have anything to do with the new boyfriend, would it?”

“What?” Onda pretended to be shocked, forcing a laugh. “Mimi doesn’t have a boyfriend! She’s-”

“He already knows.” Mya told her. “But thanks for trying.”

“Oh thank goodness.” Onda sighed in relief. “I don’t like lying.”

“You’re not very good at it, either.” Mya smiled. “Come on, let’s go learn the-”

“No no no.” Seungyoun ducked in front of her, keeping her from turning out the door. “You have to answer my question.”

“I am working out because I want my belly button piercing to look hot, and I’m working on my dance because I am dedicated to my profession.”

“Ooh, big words.” Seungyoun rolled his eyes. “So this has nothing to do with the fact that your boyfriend is super fit with lots of piercings, and also happens to be a dancer?”

“Total coincidence.” Mya promised.

Onda’s face was in a permanent grimace as she glanced between the two of them, and Mya elbowed her. She wasn’t exactly being discreet. In her defence, Mya had literally gone to her the night before and said ‘I’m trying to be a better dancer to impress Yuta. Will you help me?”.

Seungyoun crossed his arms. “That better be the only reason.”

“Of course it is.” Mya tried to look nonchalant. “Do you honestly think I’m the type to try and pick up a new skill just because of who I’m dating?”

“Well, I know you’re the type to get your belly button pierced because a guy said it would look good.” At her shocked look, he shrugged. “I asked Yiren.”

“That’s not....exactly how it happened.” Mya glanced down at her belly button, exposed by her crop top. “Besides, it’s so cute.”

It was adorable, to be fair. Just a little silver bar with a bejeweled butterfly on the end. It did suit her, and she was very happy she’d decided to get it.

“As long as you don’t have any other new piercings.” Seungyoun looked up her up and down. “Do I need to check your boobs? Onda?”

“Nope.” Onda squeaked. “She has no other piercings.”

“You’re scaring my friends.” Mya crossed her arm. “So now we’re leaving.”

She grabbed Onda’s hand, pulling her around Seungyoun and towards the door.

“I’m going to tell Seungwoo!” He called after them.

“Go ahead. He’s not the boss of me!” Mya pulled Onda out into the hallway.

The second they were walking down the hall, she pulled out her phone.

“What are you doing?” Onda asked.

“Calling Seungyoun.” Mya said, waiting for him to pick up after the dial tone. “He’s totally the boss of me.”

#everglow #everglow au #everglow imagines #everglow 7th member #female kpop #female!kpop #female member kpop #requests open #au #kpop #imagines #imagine #kpop au #kpop imagines #kpop imagine #nct #nct au #x1 #x1 au

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theshy1sout · 4 years ago

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Inseparable - Chapter 15

Tags: Broppy, Slow Burn Fluff, Not rated, Trolls Mythology Au

Ao3 is here

Notes: Umm... Feel free to leave a like or a comment? xD I noticed I have many readers, but I barely got any feedback from you. Even if you don’t like it (but still read it somehow), feel free even to openly hate me xD

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- Yeah, you were right - Branch admits with a gentle smile. - That was fun.

They're leaving the little village they've just visited to check if everyone sleeps well. But Guy Diamond already was there and powdered some glitter on trolls' eyelids. The townsfolk have sweet dreams for sure.

- Chaos can be so surprising sometimes - Poppy chuckles, thinking about the last Night. - Who would expect the group of Party Goddesses?

- "Silver Party Goddesses" you wanted to say - He shakes his head with amused disbelief. - What were their names, again?

- Wani, Ari, Baby Bun - Poppy starts counting with her fingers. - Kim-Petit and... Gonbori?

- Gomdori - He corrects her.

- Yeah

- I'm glad they came at the end of the party - He confesses. - I mean, that was fun, but I don't want to party every Night.

- Me neither, to be honest - She smiles at the stars up her head. - I really took to the calm sounds of the Night.

Branch smiles warmly, glancing at her. Their eyes meet and she adds:

- But we'll come to parties sometimes, right?

- Of course! - He beams.

- You were wild on the dance floor!

The god explodes with a laugh.

- I was dancing just like you!

- You humble dork! You are a really great dancer! And oh my goodness, you sing so well... I mean, your voice was always so warm and calming, but when you sing, guh, you do such amazing things with your voice!

Branch blushes, feeling a bit shy. He starts rubbing his neck awkwardly.

- Well, thank you - He murmurs quietly. - I always thought that your voice is... Well, angelic. Sound, soft, melody. I just had your beautiful voice to harmonize with at the party, that's all I can say.

He corrects his cape near his neck and finally looks into her eyes. Her cheeks are magically charming with a rose blush decorated by her sparkling freckles.

- Aww - She smiles tenderly at him. He looks away with an awkward smile.

- And now we're all red and shy - He chuckles shyly.

- Yeah, now we're all red - The pink goddess grins.

- There has to be some medicines for that or something - He rubs his face. - It's ridiculous to turn all shy every time we complement each other. No one reacts like that!

- I don't know - She smiles at him sweetly and grabs his arm. - I like it this way. We are dorkly original.

He gazes into her joyful eyes, being so close now. His cheeks get warmer, of course. Her wide smile forces him to smile back. A deep, glad sigh escapes from his lungs.

- You are so adorable - He says warmly.

- And you are so handsome - She whispers playfully.

Branch giggles.

They walk like that for a while. The long sandy road guides them in the dark,coniferous forest. One of the stops on their way. The god of the Night has to check here if critters are in their homes, caves, minks, hollows, and nests. He always needs to find every lost one and helps them. Being in a safe and warm place during the Night is really important. So the moment they arrive at the woods, they split up, walking around and making sure if every critter is in their place. It's Branch's job of course, but they started sharing their responsibilities more and more during the last months, doing almost everything together. It has one, really attractive advantage - they do their jobs much quicker, so they have much more time to waste with each other.

Therefore, Poppy's part is to find lost ones in the woods when Branch is tending sleeping animals. She walks around the whole forest, but luckily this area is empty. No one got lost here. She comes back to the god, finding him near to a little hollow in the big pine tree.

- No one gets lost or hurt here? - The god guesses, when she stands by his side.

- No - She tilts her head aside with curiosity. - Is that a squirrel hollow? Can I take a look?

- Sure - He makes space for her and invites her with a hand gesture. She stands on her toes to peek in the hollow.

The squirrels are sleeping peacefully, gathered in one place. The biggest one is surrounding its offsprings with a long, fluffy, deep orange tail. Little squirrel's children are squatting, hiding their noses in their parent's belly.

- What are they doing? - Poppy asks.

- They're sharing warmth - She hears Branch's answers behind her. - I like to call it "hug". Or "cuddle". They are lying really close to each other and keep the warmth between them. All animals do that during the Night.

- Why? - She frowns.

- Why?? - He sounds really surprised. - It's really cold during the Night! Don't you notice that? They can freeze if they are not with their close ones.

Poppy is still staring at the little squirrel balls. Their tiny, orange muzzles show comfort and serene peace. They all look safe and happy. She can't take her eyes off them, they are so adorable.

- Why is the Night so cold? - She asks another innocent question with the purest curiosity in her voice.

- How is it possible you don't know that? - His voice is a bit impatient now. - The Night is cold because I am cold.

The goddess finally turns to him. She blinks, tilting her head like a surprised puppy.

- But why? Why are you cold?

Branch heaves a sigh, slouching a bit.

- I just am - He looks aside. He sounds a bit disappointed in himself. - I always was.

- You feel it? Do you feel cold? - She peers worryingly at his face. - I mean, are you freezing? It has to be unpleasant...

He shrugs his shoulders blankly.

- Yeah, but I got used to it.

She steps close to him. She's always warm, even during the Night, so she just didn't realize what Branch can feel. How horrible is to always be so cold and not be able to do something with it? She remembers his touch, she knows how cold he is. And she knows, he doesn't like to be cold at all. Her every touch makes him calm, blessed... He desires warmth so much.

- So that's why you always wear your cape? - She asks.

Now the god chuckles at her innocent question.

- It's funny that you noticed those only now. I thought it was so obvious for y...

Branch stops with his eyes wide open. It hits him sharply. The soft warmth, the scent of the wildflowers, shiver on his back... He loses his breath. Her little arms embrace him around, place on his back, little warm hands on his back, under his cape, her heated soft beating chest on his chest, fast strongly beating heart, her chin on his cold shoulder, and her cheek pressing gently into his...

- What are you doing - He blows weakly. His arms, wide open, get lost, and freeze lifted in the air.

- I share my warmth with you - He hears her sweet shaking whisper right in his ear. - I'm hugging you. What is it like?

He blinks. He still tries to get his lost senses together. Poppy is... Poppy is everywhere. So close. Her warmth hits him from every possible direction. His whole body desperately absorbs it like a thirsty animal in the desert. Her soft warm touch... It makes him melt and shiver, it makes him burn and calm down, it fills him like empty vas, it fills him with unknown feelings, it makes him forget about the whole world, about himself, about everything. All he knows now is the warm arms of the pink goddess around him and her sweet scent in his nose...

His breath gets calm and deep. He carefully puts his free hand on her back. She's so little, so fragile, his fingers cover almost the whole of her back. Her skin is so delightful to touch, soft like silk. Oh, her supple body clings to his, surrounds him. The sweet, fragrant cage, the exitless trap of her arms... He closes his eyes, sinking into an infinity abyss of bliss.

- It... - He tries to answer her question from the last minutes, but his mind is still dizzy with feelings. His whispering voice turns husky and low. - It's... Let's just say... Please, never let go of me...

Poppy chuckles softly into his ear, making him quiver again. She nestles up to him even tighter, and he starts wondering how it's even possible to be even closer, to touch even more, to feel even deeper... Their hearts beat like one, their chests breath in a common rhythm. They freeze like that, in the middle of the warmest moment in their life.

Branch sighs blissfully. He corrects his grasp on the Staff. Now the hand on it is the only quite cold part of him. He wishes he had both hands free. He wishes he could just leave the Staff somewhere for a while... He wishes he could embrace Poppy with both of his arms, trapping her in him, and never let go if she doesn't refuse. Oh, is there any limit of intimacy?

His nose gets stuck in her silken strawberry pink hair and he breathes in her warm scent. Oh, how amazing she is, she’s a huge mysterious world he can explore endlessly. An ocean without the bottom, he can dive in and never come back, swimming down deeper and deeper and never looking back. He can't ever get enough and equally he always has much more than he could even wish, than he could ever dream or imagine. His nose gets deeper in the sea of her beautiful hair till it touches her warm neck. It makes her skin shiver, it forces a sudden pleasant sigh of her. Branch smiles. So she likes to be touched here.... But he doesn't move anymore. Even if he wants to, he feels his body weak and strong, burning and melting, his heart can explode if he moves even the slightest step closer. He stays where he is, and he doesn't need more in his entire life. Just to be. To be a man in Poppy's arms.

Neither of them knows how long they are cuddling. Maybe an hour, maybe a half. But also neither wants to push others away. They cling to each other, feeling so safe. They're in hog heaven. Calm, but also burning. They're all heated. Much warmer than Poppy was at the beginning. Sharing the warmth makes them both warmer somehow...

The goddess heaves another deep, content sigh. Her hand gently strokes his back under his cape.

- We should finish - She murmurs into his shoulder.

Branch purrs lingeringly as if he misses her at the very thought of letting her go. He fondles her neck gently with his nose, snuggling his face. Her hands on his back grab his shirt and clench into it.

- Branch... - She breathes out shakingly, during another deep sigh. She puts her chin on his shoulder to be more hearable. - Really... I really enjoy this... But your responsibilities... We need to stop...

He chuckles softly into her ear.

- It's you who is hugging me, sweetheart... - He whispers warmly, with a tender smile she can't see.

Poppy heaves a sigh one last time. She slowly, unwillingly leaves his arms. She steps back and immediately loses her balance. The god grabs her arm, stopping her from falling. She staggers a bit until she stands on her leg. She puts her hands on her face and then sinks her fingers into her hair.

- I'm so dizzy - She mumbles, squinting.

- So am I - He chuckles dorkly, staggering and then lying down with the Staff.

- What are you doing? - The goddess giggles, getting on her knees next to him.

- I'm drunk - He confesses, gazing adoringly into her eyes with such a wide smile. - Drunk with you.

She rubs her cheeks, smiling at him.

- You are so cute and handsome... - She whispers purringly.

- And you are so stunningly beautiful and adorable... - He replies with a low, husky voice.

They gaze at each other tenderly, until Poppy chuckles sweetly.

- Look, we don't turn red! - She points out, giggling.

Branch laughs heartily, closing his eyes. For the first time in his life, the ground under him is colder than him. He's warm. He's really warm. He laughs with happiness inside him. He's so purely happy.

Then, the sudden sound of clearing someone's throat interrupts their laughs. They both look up at the orange god who appears in front of them out of nowhere.

- Can I ask you what are you doing? - Gust frowns at them with puzzlement.

- We're nuts - Branch giggles. - There are so many weird things about us. You don't want to know. Just keep walking.

- Branch! - Poppy laughs, covering her eyes with her hand with amusement.

- Actually, I'd like to know - The god of the Order looks at them calmly. - King Peppy sent me to you to ask why the Night became warm.

Indeedly, the world around, even if still covered by the blanket of Darkness, feels warm. Not as warm as during the Day, but not cold at all. It is really nice temperature, the grasshoppers sing happily on the nearby meadow.

- It's her fault - The blue god points at the pink goddess next to him. She shrugs her shoulders, grinning.

- Well, how to say it - She chuckles. - I shared my warmth with Branch.

- She's amazing.

- I know, I know. And now we're both kinda drunk.

- We didn't drink. We were just hugging.

- Basically, we have no idea how we work.

- We work amazingly for me - He smiles at her dreamily as if Gust isn’t there.

Poppy giggles. She points at Branch, turning to the god of the Order.

- See? Just look at him, isn't that the most charming and taking smile in the world?

The blue god sits up.

- Disagree! Your smile is the most adorable, breath-taking and mesmerizing miracle that could happen on the Earth.

- Ok, stop - Gust chuckles awkwardly, lifting open hands with the peace-offering gesture. - This... I don't know what's happening with you two, but you seem to have some sort of fun, so I'm going to tell King Peppy that everything is great.

- Yeah, It is great - Poppy smiles dreamily.

- Super great - Branch adds, lying down again.

- One thing - The god of the Order says with a bit firmer tone. - The Staff. The Gold Sphere should not lie on the ground.

The god of the Night turns his head to the side and glances at the Staff in his hand. He drops his dorky smile and blinks. Reminding him about his responsibilities sets him up. He stands up straight, brushing his clothes down with one hand. He corrects his grip on the Staff, dusting the Gold Sphere off a bit. It is so fragile, so fragile that a slight hit can crack it. He should never forget to care about It. He clears his throat shyly, seeing Poppy standing up next to him out of the corner of his eye.

- Sorry - He says, looking down a bit ashamed.

- It's okay - Gust smiles at them comfortingly. - Just be more careful about It.

Branch nods with a serious face.

- Farewell - The orange god says and disappears, just like Immortals like to do.

- Well, that was embarrassing - Poppy announces, turning to her company. She frowns with surprise. - And what are you doing now?

Branch is unclenching his cape, trying to take it off with one hand.

- I feel warm, I don't need this anymore - He throws the cape on her shoulders.

- Hey, I don't need it either!

- But you want it - He smirks at her, trying to lay the cape on her with only one hand.

- Branch! - She giggles, grabbing the edges of the fabric. - It's huge!

- Let me see you in it - He steps back and views her slowly. Poppy giggles and puts the hoodie on her head. She rubs the fabric across her cheek and smells it.

- Okay, agree, I want it - She admits. - It smells like you.

- And how do I smell? - He chuckles.

The goddess looks aside, smiling shyly.

- Like the woods, trees, leaves. Like safeness and care.

Branch smiles warmly at her.

- Well, you look pretty safe in this - He puts the top edge of the hoodie on her eyes. She puffs, amused. - Come come, we have res pon si bi li ties

Poppy lifts the hoodie, looking up at him with a smirk.

- I really like your mood now - She says genuinely.

He grins in the way she usually grins at him, making her smile even wider.

****

- The Night is almost over - Poppy announces, unclenching the silver buckle under her chin. - Maybe you want your cape back?

- No, not really.... - Branch starts, but the goddess is already getting the cape right on his shoulders. - Oh, okay. You don't like it though?

- No, it's really comfy, especially when I hide in it whole - She smiles, clenching the buckle on Branch's neck. - It just can bother me during the Day.

She brushes the cape on his arms to get it right. She meets his adoring eyes and caresses affectionately the corner of his smiling lips with her hand.

- Grab the Staff - He orders quietly.

She frowns.

- It's not the time.

He squints at her with discontent.

- It's just a few minutes - He argues. - Can't you start the Day a bit earlier?

- For what?

He looks up, smiling dorkly.

- What is it? - Poppy chuckles. - Can't it wait a few minutes?

- Can't you grab the Staff earlier?

- Tell me what you want! - She beams at him.

- I want you to take the Staff from me - Branch smiles mysteriously.

Poppy is gazing at him with puzzlement. She hesitates for a while. Her curiosity fights with her head. A few minutes aren't a big deal, right? She carefully grabs the Staff, the sky gets lighter and beams with the colors of the dawn, and almost at the very same moment Branch embraces her suddenly. His arms cover her whole. She loses her breath.

- You waited to hug me with both your hands? - The goddess breathes out, giggling. He purrs "uh-huh'' into her shoulder, which wakes up pleasant butterflies in her stomach.

Poppy closes her eyes. His big hands drape her whole back, she sinks into him, in his warmth, in his care and safeness. She cuddles tight, letting him hide her into his arms, conceal her from the whole world around. She breathes his warm heavy scent. Now she notices why he was so desperate to hug her with both arms. The Staff in her hand doesn't let her fully snuggle with him, it stops her from diving deeper, she has to keep the Staff as far from Branch as it's possible, cause he can't touch it during the Day.

But even with the Staff in her hand, she's in their small, pure, warm heaven. His fingers sink tenderly into her hair, forcing her to sigh. Oh, may this moment last forever...

_______________________________________________________

Index

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se0kie · 5 years ago

Text

the first morning— jhs (m)

pairing: hoseok x fem reader

genre: married au, newlyweds jhs and reader, fluff, smut

husband!hoseok

warnings: not a lot tbh? pretty standard fluffy smut, voyeurism (sex in an open field), no third party tho, nipple play, fingering, handjob, light edging, unprotected sex, slight breeding kink

summary: it’s the first morning of the rest of your and hoseok’s life as a married couple. before settling into this new role your husband wants to make memories to remember and he insists on doing that by fucking you on a hilltop.

“Y/N sweetie you gotta wake up.” You heard Hoseok’s voice through your half asleep state. It had been a few hours since the both of you had returned home you were guessing, you were still pretty tired from the wedding. You and Hobi had been in a beautiful 4 year relationship when he had taken you out on a Sunday picnic and proposed to you at the Seoul Botanic Park.

The wedding was a gorgeous cream and white theme and you couldn’t take your eyes off of your beautiful groom dressed in a classic and simple black tuxedo.

The whole affair was smooth and you had secretly marveled at the lack of wedding day disasters (thanks to your brides men Jimin, Taehyung and Jeongguk).

You were still tired from the long hours of standing on high heels and smiling for the cameras, the adrenaline rush had worn off as you returned home and left you utterly sleepy and whining for your bed.

You could hear Hobi’s soft voice in your ear, trying desperately to wake you from your precious slumber. You turned around and were met face to face with his smiling face, inches away from your own. You lazily slung your arms around his neck in a halfhearted attempt to get him into the warm and oh-so-soft blankets of your bed. You felt Hoseok’s arms travel down your back to your waist and in the matter of a few seconds he had hoisted you up onto him, your legs instinctively wrapping around his hips.

You let out another whine of complaint, “Hobiii please let me sleep. ‘m so tired pleease!” You had your face in the crook of his neck and you could just about feel the rush of breath against your ear as your husband chuckled at your antics.

“Y/N, my beautiful wife, get ready sweetheart. I have a surprise for you, I promise we can stay in bed the entire day after we’re done.” You almost melted at him calling you ‘wife’ and who were you to deny your gorgeous husband his every wish? So you huffed, gave him a pout and jumped down from his hold to go to the bathroom and get yourself ready.

Hobi had successfully gotten you out of the house but now you were standing in front of the somewhat small hill behind your neighbourhood and apparently he expected you to hike up to the top with him.

What a ridiculous thought.

You were ready to walk back into the car and drive yourself home to your precious bed but Hobi used his damned adorable puppy eyes on you and you were a puddle at his feet. It was dangerous just how easily Hoseok could use his heart shaped pout and big brown eyes on people to get them to do what he wanted.

The man would get away with murder if he really wanted to. You sighed internally giving Hoseok a look that said ‘Yeah OK, I’ll do it but will I be happy doing it? No.’

And hence started your journey to the top of Hannam Hill.

It was easier than your dramatic brain had made it out to be. It was quite romantic walking hand in hand with your husband in the cool morning. It had taken the two of you around half an hour to get to the top and morning had turned to afternoon what with all the stops you made to admire the view of the entire city splayed out in front of you.

You were at the top and Hobi had removed the contents of the picnic basket he had brought along and laid out a cute, old timey checkered sheet for you to sit on.

He had packed bread, cheese, berries, deli meat and a bottle of wine as lunch. “Come sit down m’lady.” Ever the joker he bowed down deeply and gestured at you to take a seat.

“Oh, why of course, good sir.” You played along with him. After all it was one of the major reasons you adored him, his unbeatable knack for goofing around.

The two of you enjoyed a light lunch of sandwiches made with the items you had packed and delicious sparkling rosé that gave you a warm feeling in your stomach, similar to how Hoseok made you feel all the time. You spent the next several hours laughing at terrible jokes and making fun of the many embarrassing relatives that came to your wedding, you slipped into bouts of comforting silence and then picked right back up at the laughter.

You could almost feel the contentment run through you, this was everything you needed. Good company and a beautiful view. Life, if even for a moment, felt like heaven.

Time passed like wind when you were with Hoseok. His tinkling laugh invaded your senses, his bright eyes never leaving yours and brown hair wispy and fluttering thanks to the cool breeze. The sun had started to go down and there was a warm, orange glow settled on the world.

The atmosphere had suddenly changed, Hobi sat at an arm’s length away from you. His brown eyes glowed amber in the light and bore into your own with such intensity you felt a fire light in the deep pits of your belly. His earlier heart smile had wavered and transformed into parted lips with a hint of tongue sat behind them. You could feel the warm blush rise to your cheeks, you looked away down to your hands folded in your lap in an effort to escape from Hoseok’s smoldering gaze. But to no avail.

You felt his warm hands reach out and grasp your chin. Firm yet gentle he tilted your jaw up to look back at him, he had scooted closer to you and now his lips were inches near yours. Tantalisingly close, just there but still so far away.

Your eyes roamed over his face, you took your time looking at his beautiful features. The mole on his lip that you had become so familiar with, the slightly downward pointing eyes and the hair falling beneath his brows.

You were so immersed in staring at your husband that it almost took you by surprise when you felt his face near you and seconds later his lips were on yours and devouring you like a man starved.

You kissed him back with equal fervour; kissing Hoseok would always ignite the same feelings from you, his lips molding against yours, tongue brushing against your bottom lip, this was familiar yet strange every single time.

Kissing Hoseok felt like your world sat in the small space between the two of you, his hand on your hip and light sighs of pleasure spurred you on every time. Kissing him brought out this unexplainable need to please him from you, it made you powerless yet you felt like a goddess.

It was contradictory but still so fulfilling.

Pulling you out of your reverie, hands pulled at the hem of the top you were wearing, impatient and demanding but you knew you wanted exactly what he did. Hobi ran his hands across your stomach, goosebumps left in his wake, he had both his hands on your hips while you broke the kiss to pull your blouse off of your torso.

You threw the clothing to the side near the food basket and once again connected your lips with Hoseok’s, moaning into the feel of his plush lips moving against yours. He tasted sweet and salty and like Hobi, just the way you liked it.

Content with the making out portion of foreplay Hobi pulled away from you, the lust in his eyes dark and pupils dilated he looked at you as if you were a morsel to be eaten. You felt more goosebumps break out against your chest, partly because of the cold breeze but mostly because Hobi was looking at you like that.

With a move towards you, Hoseok’s mouth was on your neck, sucking bruises and painting your skin, his hands were beneath your breasts, calculating what to do next.

Where to touch you, how to touch you, exactly how to reduce you to a squirming mess.

His hands had reached behind your back at the clasp of your bra, he breathed into your ear, a quiet question asking for permission, “Is this okay?” You whispered back, breathless from the kissing and how riled up you were, “Yes, baby touch me, please.”

Obliging to your requests he undid the clasp and your bra fell in your joined laps. Sometime during the fooling around you had made your place in Hoseok’s lap and your feet lay surrounding his waist. Your nipples hardened due to the temperature and you could see his fascination with how quickly your body responded to stimulants.

Mouth still on your neck, Hoseok’s hand had come up to your breast and was kneading the flesh with exquisite skill, eliciting gasps from your throat and sending shocks of pleasure to your heated core. His fingers were rolling your nipples, flicking them every minute or so, cupping your breasts and squeezing them, bringing you unimaginable pleasure.

Under his ministrations you had started rocking your hips against his clothed crotch, basking in the pride of feeling him grow hard under you.

Frustrated, you realised that his shirt was still on. Hardheaded as you were you grabbed at the hem of his shirt until he chuckled and pulled away just enough for you to snag it off him and throw it to the side to your already discarded blouse. You ran your hands over his toned pecs.

Hobi, the skilled dancer, had a body that was not buff by any means but he was strong and tanned and refined in just the right places. You trailed a finger down his stomach and undid the belt at his trousers, undoing the zipper to take out his gorgeous cock from its confinement.

Hoseok’s cock was a pretty one. Pink and medium thick, oozing precum at the top, shining in the setting sun. You felt a gush of wetness flow out of you at the sight of his dick. You sat back and gave his cock an experimental stroke, causing Hobi to let out a choked moan at the feel of your soft, tiny fingers around him.

Not wanting to make you do all the work Hobi reached down to your clothed sex under your skirt and pushed your panties to the side, revealing your sopping pussy to the breeze. He ran his middle finger up and down your wet slit causing you to shudder in the feeling.

He slid his finger into your pussy and slowly started moving, your moans had become incoherent and your head had slumped into his neck. You still pumped his cock as best as you could, running your finger over his slit and smiling internally at the way he shuddered. Hobi’s fingers were sliding in and out of you at a tortuous pace, your pussy becoming wetter by the second.

“Do you wanna come Y/N? Come on sweetheart you gotta tell me, you wanna come, don’t you?” All you could do was nod and whine against his neck, too shy to speak real words. “Be a good girl sweetie, use your words,” he urged you on.

“I want your cock in me Hobi please, I want it so bad. Please fuck me baby.” You blushed at the filthy words leaving your mouth but you were too turned on to be embarrassed at this point.

“Really? Here?” You could hear the amusement in his voice.

“Yes please, I want you so bad.”

“Out here in an open field? Anybody could catch us. But you like that thought, don’t you? You’re such a dirty little girl.” Hobi was grinning, you could hear it in his tone but all you could do was whine and moan and pray that he would have mercy on you. His fingers had fastened their pace and your pussy felt raw at the sheer speed he held.

You felt yourself edging closer and closer to orgasm when suddenly, and painfully your husband stilled his motions and pulled his fingers out of you. You let out a whine of betrayal, “Hobiii!! That’s not fair! I was so close please, why did you stop?!” You could hear how childish you sounded but you really, really hated being edged and Hoseok knew that.

“M’sorry baby, you were really going at it on my cock and I was close too. And I’d rather cum inside you right now than anywhere else. You want my cock, don’t you?”

You nodded, feeling pathetically close to tears.

“Okay then lay down for me, sweetheart.”

You nodded again and laid back and opened your legs for Hoseok to slide your skirt and panties down. He pulled off his jeans and there he stood, kneeling between your legs in all his glory. Cock standing tall and proud and leaking precum, sweat beading his neck lightly and fingers in his mouth sucking off your juices.

He let out a moan of appreciation, “So sweet for me. So wet and all for me, only for me.” You preened under his praise and in a moment of impatience wrapped your legs around his waist, heels digging into his plush ass, pulling him close to your centre.

Hoseok chuckled at your demanding nature but obviously did not deny you any longer. He was worried if you were kept away from an orgasm anymore you might actually start weeping on his dick, and he didn’t want your first time together as husband and wife to be a Y/N cry fest.

He ran his head up and down your slit, rubbing against your clit and sending pleasure from your sensitive nub to every nerve in your body. He kept at it for a few moments when in one sudden and fluid motion he entered you and slammed into you with his entire length.

You felt full.

Full of Hoseok, his scent, your senses dulled due to the overload of pleasure and stimulation. Pleasure sparking in your belly, your cunt clenching around his thick cock buried deep inside you.

“Stop doing that or I’m gonna cum,” he chided. You stayed like that, connected, for what felt like minutes but were probably just a few seconds. You grew increasingly impatient and started squirming around on his cock. He grabbed your thighs in a punishing grip, sure to leave bruises, in an effort to still you.

And then brutally he started moving. “You like that, huh? You like when I’m buried balls deep inside your soft little cunt. You’re such a little slut, but it’s okay as long as you’re my slut.”

“Mmm Hobi please go faster! I wanna cum Hobi pleasee.” You would have cringed at how whiney you sounded another time but right now you wanted to cum and you were set on getting what you wanted.

He was hovering over you, giving you slow, deep strokes touching all the right spots inside you. His arms enclosing your face, creating a cage on both sides he leaned down to your face and kissed you tenderly with all the love and affection he couldn’t express in words. His tongue brushed against your bottom lip, thrusts getting faster and more brutal as his mouth went lower, painting your neck bright shades of red and purple.

He sucked and licked at your collarbone, mouthing and nipping at the soft skin at the base of your neck. “You’re my pretty little wife, my good girl. Gonna fuck a baby into you now that you’re my wife. You want my cum inside you, don’t you? Want my cum dripping down your pretty cunt?”

His words took you by surprise, not expecting his breeding kink to show up this time but welcoming it nonetheless. “Ah Hoseok, yes! Yes, yes, yes please I’m so close please!”

His stamina and pace was almost inhuman, sweat dripping down his brows and hair, you could tell he was close and waiting for you to cum before him.

In a swift motion his hand came down to your clit and rubbed furiously, pleasure spiking through your stomach and lighting every vein on fire. Your sex was burning with pain and pleasure, a combination Hoseok had mastered well. You felt the hot ribbon of pleasure tighten in your belly.

It got taut, being pulled on by your lover and then like an explosion bursting in you, your orgasm arrived. Creaming Hoseok’s cock with your juices you spasmed around his thrusting dick, he was about to cum any second now.

Dirty words and promises of everlasting love intertwining as they reached your ears, barely coherent. “Gonna cum in you baby girl, gonna give you my seed. I’m so close.”

And then with a spontaneous groan of pleasure, Hoseok was cumming inside your raw cunt. You could feel the white hot ropes of his cum shoot inside your walls, painting you with his seed. He slumped down with exhaustion, head resting on your neck. A soft voice, “I love you Y/N. I’m glad you’re my wife.”

“I’m glad I’m your wife too Hobi.” You smiled at the irony. Tender words exchanged while his cum dripped out of you.

Husband wife tangled together on top of a hill, bathed in the sunset glow, naked for anyone’s prying eyes to see but still not caring because you were together.

You were together.

That’s the kind of relationship you had. No embarrassment was embarrassing enough, no location risky enough, no promise challenging enough when you two were together.

Plus, sex on a hill is a pretty solid outcome when two crazies are utterly in love.

a/n: this was so much softer than i thought it would be but omg i love this so much!!! hobi is such an under appreciated member and husband!hoseok gets me wet in the eyes AND the panties so its a necessity. i hope you enjoyed this one!!! mwah💘💘💘

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chromatic-lamina · 4 years ago

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seaside and floaties one piece fanfic excerpt

Just feeling a bit anxious at the moment with real-life obligations, and posting some of my AO3 stuff relieves it a little. This is Marco/Law not swimming, but doing their best to stay in the water. Light humour. They’ve got a one-eyed, short-haired, stumpy, barrel-chested dog called Misery, and a bunch of thieves who steal wallets buried in the sand.

Post-canon AU, but powers retained, and canon elements. SFW.

🐶⛱🏊🏿‍♀️🐶⛱🏊🏿‍♀️🐶⛱🏊🏿‍♀️

You wouldn't think a one-eyed creature could swim so well."

"Anything swims better than us."

Marco wrapped an arm around Law's waist and drew him near. Law, arms crossed, turned his head Marco’s way for a beat. Steadied his footing. Looked back as Misery paddled out into the sea, picked up a stick thrown for her and swam back in. The salt water had to taste bad.

She loved the ocean. So did they of course, and they could stay afloat on top of it, in a vessel, or under it in a submarine, but they couldn't physically submerge themselves and let go and trust the water and currents to carry them from one point to the next. They'd drown.

She ran up to them, shaking droplets all over their hairy legs—board shorts were the order of the day, even if they only went in as far as their knees. Franky tried to convince them of the benefits of Speedos, but the two pirates were strangely modest. Plus, Robin might be lurking nearby and she had no mercy. Board shorts hid the fishing tackle a whole lot better.

They'd tether a floatie ring to the shore, or wear them themselves, tough guys be damned. The floaties looked particularly cute around Law's badassmotherfucker bicep tatts, and Marco never failed to snort as his lover inflated them and slid them along his muscled arms.

They were like city kids—fluent in the ways of back-alley streets, but pale and jelly-legged on sand or sea. Even if they'd spent their lives on it. On it. Under it. Not in it.

Law's gruff wheeze of a laugh joined Marco's. It didn't stop them.

Once, Law had chased down some bozos who'd taken off with their wallets, his wet boardies stuck to his thighs, yellow floaties (with Hearts' symbols) pumping up and down as he ran after them. Then he remembered his power and those kids never knew what hit them. Smoker had taken their statements and visited Law and Marco at home.

"Said a bunch of putzes..."

"Us?" Marco asked.

Smoker chomped on his cigar. That meant yes.

"Only two of us," the Phoenix added.

"Anyway, a galoot of galahs."

"Two, just two of us," Law corrected, "And the dog."

"I think they're using that word incorrectly," Marco murmured, turned his teacup. "Galoot. I think a galoot is a galah."

"Galoshes of galahs?" Law suggested.

"They're wellies. Wellington boots."

Marco looked at the window, all innocence, to avoid the devilment in Law's quick grin. He knew the Heart was imagining galoshes-wearing-galahs galooting in a downpour, like umbrella-twirling tap dancers.

Smoker glowered at them. "Some floatie-wearing hard-arse greenhorns dismembered them and dropped them on the foreshore."

"They lived to tell the tale?" Law asked, a tumbler mug of green tea in his hands disguising the curve of his lips. "They sound ghastly."

"Especially the floatie part." Marco bent under the table and scratched Misery's fur. She thumped her tail.

"The kids admitted they'd been trying to lift wallets."

"Do tell." Law and Marco had taken precautions and buried them in the sand while they paddled. Their possessions should have been safe. Who'd they think they were messing with?

"And so they're not pressing charges."

"Huh."

"But just be careful, Law, about separating people from their bodies."

"Is it illegal?" He thought stealing wallets also wasn't high on the list of judiciary approval.

Smoker knew if Law used his power, subjects wouldn't be hurt. "No, but it scares the fuck out of everyone."

There should be a law against it. Sent ripples of fear through the community. "If you two still wanna play pirates, do it on the wide open unchartered seas."

Recidivists. Not reformed in the slightest.

"Scares them even if we've got floaties on?" Law and Marco sent each other a glance, and had to look down at the table to stop a fit of unmanly giggles.

"We look pretty suburban." It pained Marco to say it, but it was true.

Smoker cracked a smile, quickly hidden by bitter coffee. One of the "victims" had taken a snap. Smoker almost expected the irate man bearing down upon them, yellow floaties prominent, to be wearing an Edwardian one-piece swimsuit, and to have a little jiggly beer belly.

"Well done," he growled, and ran his foot over Misery's hide, "Just how do you manage to threaten and protect while wearing floaties, of all the goddamned things?"

Marco looked at their tea-towel collection, at Law's tea-towel collection. Smoker really had to ask? "One of Trafalgar's many skills."

"We've got a rubber ring, Smo-ya. It's cute. Got daisies on it. Nami gave it to us."

Marco stood and walked to the kitchen. "Charged us, Law. We had to pay her for the pleasure." He brought back a mandarin each for all. Sat and peeled his, looked over to Smoker. "Sure, big guy. Next time you want to join us, just ask. You don't have to arrest a bunch of losers to impress us."

🐶⛱🏊🏿‍♀️🐶⛱🏊🏿‍♀️🐶⛱🏊🏿‍♀️

Law, earnestly leant forward on a Bepo-shaped pool float. Marco mixed the drinks at the poolside bar and Smoker rolled his cigars on the edge of an ashtray set up on his daisy-patterned float. Both fruit-users' stacked arms were encased in floaties. Smoker's bore the Marines' symbol.

Misery ran up and down the side of the pool, and it was Tashigi's job to fetch either one of them out of the water when they tumbled in. All it took was one point needing emphasis, one grown man leaning too far. There went the cigars, Law's do. Thank goodness for the floaties. And Tashigi.

Turning circles, Misery barked, and Marco for the life of him was sure she was laughing.

🐶⛱🏊🏿‍♀️🐶⛱🏊🏿‍♀️🐶⛱🏊🏿‍♀️

This is again from a dark fic (most of the excerpts are), and is actually from a dark chapter, so I’ll just post what’s above, but a link to my AO3 is in the header of the blog. Hope it can be enjoyed without the full context of the story or verse.

#one piece #one piece fanfiction #trafalgar law #marco the phoenix #marco and law #smoker #opfanfic #opfanfics #op fanfiction #op fanfic #my writing #my stuff #chromalami #marlaw #marco/law #law/marco

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blackfemmecharacterdependency · 4 years ago

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04. The Apex Begins

AU Grace and Simon story. Takes place in the instance that they never got on the train, but crossed paths and became friends. But, for the sake of anyone who wants to view it as a series, I’ll number them. 2468 Words TW for violence, mental health discourse, unresolved trauma

NOTE: I wanted to sort of put the concept of “the apex” into the story without actually having a cult of children. I think that the circumstances of the train led to the philosophy going that far, but I still think that in real world situations, both of these characters would both 1. be prone to violence and 2. develop an us vs them mindset.

This was who they were together. Grace and Simon. She would venture into town, figure out some excuse, and he would meet her. They traveled the city together, taking whatever they wanted, because rich people sucked and if you owned a business, you were rich and deserved whatever happened. They got into scuffles with people who seemed to disrespect one or both of them. They instantly went into defensive mode over each other.

Neither was afraid to resort to violence, because that’s just what you did for friends. You did anything that they needed. You did whatever you had to do. That was a good sign of survival of the fittest. That was the proof that you were better than everybody else - that you were the apex of human evolution.

If you had to answer to people and were afraid to challenge them and fight for yourself and your loved ones - you were less than nothing. You were a “null.” Grace and Simon had decided that they would never be like that, and they didn’t have to be, because they had each other. He thought she was a true queen, and she trusted him with her life.

She lost her driver over it. That was one of the things that she did hate, because he sort of had to suffer for her to be able to have this solid friendship with Simon, and she loved her driver and everything...

But he wasn’t Simon, so he could be sacrificed. He had to be. She had come back to the car with a huge plug of her hair missing and she laughed it off and said that she had gotten caught on something on the train and accidentally ripped it out. That was actually partially true.

A woman on the train got herself into a fight with Grace. She was some college lady, making faces whenever Grace and Simon were talking too loud and practically snarling at Grace. Simon began to imitate her, and she sat there growing red in the face, obviously noticing them, but whenever Grace joined in to make fun of her as well, she got irate. They called each other names and Grace dared the woman to hit her, so... she was willing to sort of take responsibility for the fact that the woman came through on the dare and slapped her right in the face. Grace laughed, but also charged towards her...

The woman had taken a handful of her hair after an argument that escalated into violence, into her punching the woman in the gut while she clutched Grace’s hair trying to get her off, and it didn’t end until Simon had dragged the woman off of the train in a choke hold and threw her down on the terminal, ready to stomp the life out of her. The woman shielded herself with both of her arms, praying that this boy didn’t kick her. Fortunately for her, he didn’t. He wanted to and definitely would have after the way that she’d attacked Grace, but Grace stopped him.

She pointed to a surveillance camera, with her other arm blocking her face from it. She and Simon took off running, leaving an almost passed out (obnoxious) college student with a bruised midsection and holding a plug of hair in her fist. Simon stole Grace a mask not too long after. He had nothing to lose as far as he was concerned, but her family was well known in this place and she did worry about them knowing about this part of her life.

The driver had been going through months of covering for Grace, but this missing plug of hair - he had to take action. She’d told her lie and her mother stressed over all of her beautiful hair that they had to shave off, but she spun in that Grace was doing “the big chop” and going natural… Grace was kinda into that. She often had curly styles, but her hair wasn’t that type of curly, so work went into her look. Work that she hopefully wouldn’t have to go through for a while, now that she was starting her hair journey over. In her video chat with Simon afterwards, he thought it was an amazing look for her, so she quickly got over it.

The driver spoke with her parents, admitting that he allowed her to spend time with a friend in town sometimes, (he didn’t give them details about Simon specifically), but that he honestly thought that she might need some professional help, because she always came back banged up or covered in something suspicious. She’d freshen up and change in the car and clean out the backseat with extreme diligence and tell them a lie about where she had been. Well… This was not only news to them, but HAD to have been fake news.

They weren’t sure why he would LIE this way about their perfect child, but they knew he was, because there was no way Grace would EVER stand up against them.

“I think that she may need some serious help.”

“You are the help,” Mrs. Monroe told him.

“I’m not the kind of help that Grace needs…” He started.

“You’re right,” Mr. Monroe told him. “You’re obviously useless. Expect your last paycheck in the mail. We no longer require your services.” Whenever Grace was sent for, she passed the driver on the way to the living room. He looked sad and wished her well as they crossed paths. “Grace!” Her father called. She jumped and ran into the room. “We’ve let your driver go.”

She gasped and placed her hand over her heart, “Oh my God! What happened, Daddy?”

Her mother spoke, “He suggested that you need help. We gathered that he was insinuating psychiatric help, from the tales he was spinning about your behavior in the city.” Grace froze and touched the spot where the missing plug of hair had been. That must have been it. The thing that was about to lose her everything that she had formed with Simon… “Of course, we know that he is mistaken. We didn’t raise someone that weak or lazy.” Grace’s eyes were large and damp. She nodded. “IF you needed help… that would be very unfortunate. A lot of work would be down the drain.”

Grace’s throat was dry as she said, “I’ve told you everything that happens whenever I go into town. I;m not sure why he would say that I’ve done anything wrong. I would never embarrass you.”

Both of her parents advanced on her and she was frozen still, unsure of what would happen next. They both gave her a hug and told her that was the perfect response. “Imagine! Our daughter needing help, aside from the likes of the staff? I never thought that I would ever hear something so ridiculous,” her mother said, then quickly grabbed her by the chin harder than she knew was out of love and the threatening look in her eyes confirmed that much as she said, through the teeth of her smile, “And we’d better not ever hear such a thing about you again.” She nodded, terrified.

Mrs. Monroe let go of her face and Mr. Monroe simply gave her a look, the look that told her he knew that she was lying and he was disappointed in her. At least he wasn’t saying so. But, Grace was both relieved and shaken up.

So, they gave Grace a new driver, and Grace explained to him straight out of the gate the way it was going to work for them to function and him to keep his job. He was younger than her last driver, and didn’t mind letting her sneak off and enjoy herself. Her parents were total hardasses,so he understood her desire to get some time away sometimes. Plus, he had no idea the kinds of things she got up to whenever she left the vehicle. He didn’t know that the last driver was absolutely right and that she probably did seriously need some help. Unfortunately, she didn’t know it either. She just knew that she had to be more careful.

A mask helped, and because she had the body of a dancer, some counter culture street wear and a shaved head, people often seemed to think that there were two boys terrorizing them. Simon shaved the back of his head in solidarity, but she thought he did it to look “even more broody.”

Any time that Grace and Simon engaged with someone in conflict, Simon had a habit of taking something off of them and giving it to Grace. Her collection was getting pretty big. She kept all of the trinkets in her hope chest. The thing was just symbolic, anyways. She was never gonna get married and she wasn’t sure that her parents honestly expected her to.

Compromise only went so far with the Monroes. Grace had become brave enough to make suggestions in her sweetest voice without paralyzing fear, but she definitely still felt afraid whenever she did speak up. Being 14 and old enough to go to high school, she REALLY wanted to finally be able to go be with other kids! She wanted to meet other people and find out things that they had in common or whatever else teenagers did when they got to high school. And, fortunately for her, her father was sure that another recession was coming and didn’t mind saving a little on private instructors…

HOWEVER, she definitely wasn’t going to be allowed to go to Simon’s school (the school she’d suggested). So, they enrolled her into the most prestigious private school in town.

Whenever she found out that she would be going, she asked Simon if it was at all possible for him to go to that school too. After two full minutes of him laughing in her face, to the point of belly ache and tears, he cleared his throat, wiped his eyes and reminded her, “That place is for rich kids.”

It just so happened that she had read about this school and there were multiple programs in which less fortunate students could earn scholarships. She had known Simon for almost 4 years and had seen him be very good at many things that required mental intelligence and/or technical skill. He was good at creating things, building stuff, writing, photography.... There had to be something he was good enough at to gain a scholarship.

“There is literally nothing that I’m good enough at to get a scholarship into a school like that,” he said, while she was pacing and talking to herself about all of the things that Simon was great at, going down the list out loud to come up with a plan to get him into school with her. He rolled his eyes and went back to typing on the hand me down laptop that he’d gotten from her whenever her parents bought her a new one. Simon really appreciated that Grace thought so highly of his skills, but he knew that the school wouldn’t share her affinity for him or any of his skills.

She sputtered air through her lips - a habit that she’d had for many years, and then she looked up and said, “Write an essay about your family.” He tensed up, frowned and stared at her.

Grace smiled, put her hands behind her back and sauntered over to him. “It sounds painful right now, BUT this will not only give you a chance to get out some of the stress that you hold inside, keeping it all in, it’ll ALSO be just what those stuffy adults on the board need to have some mercy on us and let you into the school. I’ve read somewhere that it doesn’t help to hold things in. Think of it as... journaling, but for your future!”

Simon did journaling, sort of. He definitely wrote about his life, but translated it into fantasy, outside of his manifesto, of course. But, that wasn’t the point right now. “You think that telling people that I accidentally let my baby sister die, which caused my mom to become so angry at me that she devolved into this abusive and suicidal phantom that lives in our house, and made my father neglect me and her, up until he reenlisted in the military and left me to take care of somebody who absolutely hates me - is a good thing to tell a place with an upstanding reputation?”

She winced with every word he said. She had been around for most of that and had been the only person to see him through most of it. But, now, she was telling him exactly this. “I think that this kind of stuff, while atrocious and painful to US, is like a drug to them. They wanna take you and say, look how I’ve fixed this up. They want to take your pain and make it into a story that they can brag about.”

“And why would I want them to do that?” he asked, shivering at the thought of anybody else but her and Samantha to ever learn about his family issues. Journaling was one thing, but this was something different and it felt extremely uncomfortable.

“It’s not that you would want to do it. It’s that it would be a way for us to be in school together,” she said.

“It’s asking a lot, Grace.” He set the laptop aside and shook his head, “I wanna be with you. You know I do, but it’s really asking a lot.”

She lowered her head, nodded, and flopped down on the seat next to him on her cushioned reading bench. “You’re right. I’m so sorry that I suggested that. I guess desperation made me weird. I don’t see the point of even going to school and meeting other people if I don’t have you there with me. You’re kinda like the other side of me that my parents never let bloom. Me in a new school surrounded by all those strangers without you… That’s gonna be like me navigating life chopped in half. I know that I can't be my best there without “us.” I guess I panicked and didn’t think about what it would mean for you to have to think about the way your adults have done you.” She clasped her hands together, sputtered out some air, and rested her lips against them, silently praying for some type of plan or something.

He didn’t like the condition she was in and now he felt guilty. “Okay,” Simon said. He reached over and covered her clasped hands with one of his own and pulled her into a hug with his other arm. “I’ll do it.” He was shivering and she wanted to tell him not to worry about it, that it was too much to ask and if he didn’t want to, not to do it for her benefit. But, she was 14, and very selfish. So, all she did was smile at him and push some strands of hair from his face. Their faces were really close, but she didn’t really ever think about stuff like that. There wasn’t any “personal space” between them. He was her other half and that meant his personal space was simply an extension of hers. He had other thoughts about it, but he certainly wasn’t going to say so.

He blushed and grabbed his laptop. “I’m gonna work on it at home, though…” They told each other everything, but he didn’t necessarily trust himself to be presentable as he relived some of these things about his life. He didn’t want her to see him crying or having a tantrum or tugging at his own hair to redirect his pain. He wanted privacy to dissect his heart this way. He wanted discretion. He didn’t want to look weak. You couldn’t extend to the apex by being weak.

She was looking in the mirror and admiring her face, seemingly oblivious to the turmoil he was facing by agreeing to this. He understood. He often admired her face too, though he didn’t know how to tell her that the rest of them were a little luckier… She looked even prettier in front of you than she did in her reflection. She smiled at him and squinted her eyes, “What?”

“Nothing! I’m going now. Bye.”

“Until later!” she cheered. She had no idea how hard his night was about to be. She didn’t even ask… but he also didn’t tell her...

#infinity train #infinity train fanfiction #Nesha Fanfiction #AU Infinity Train #fics #If They Didn't Get on the Train #The Apex Begins #Girl That's Queuedt #Scheduled to post 12 hours before the end #Wonder if I'll have the motivation to finish it afterwards

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anywhozits · 4 years ago

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All I Really Want

Rating: M

Pairing: Kristanna (eventually hah)

Verse: 90s High School AU

Notes: chapter one of my first frozen multichap! yayyy but warning it’s an emotional roller coaster (naturally, because teen angst and all)

Read on Ao3, too!

Champagne popped, fireworks cracked, loud screams of excitement echoed throughout the large Mediterranean style-mansion in Newport Coast, California. Everyone in the house counted down the seconds until 1997 and celebrated the victory—the host’s software company had ended the year with the most fiscal prowess of any software company in the country.

Ten.

Right—The Company that Agnarr Larsen had founded and owned had hit a milestone. 10 billion dollars in sales worldwide in 1996.

Nine.

They’d opened some international subsidiaries. Most recently one in Oslo, Norway.

Eight.

Within the last month it was finally acknowledged that The Company had the first fully developed Internet Strategy of all the tech companies.

Seven.

Whatever “Internet Strategy” meant.

Six.

Agnarr Larsen had thus gone all out. He and his wife, Iduna, spent a sickeningly large sum of money on this party.

Five.

The theme—70s Disco / Studio 54 because 1997 had one number in common with that decade.

Four.

At least 35 Cirque-employed go-go dancers served drinks, danced on tables, and strutted their stuff throughout the house.

Three.

They had exactly five separate disco balls, an indoor and an outdoor dance floor, properly themed food, and an incredibly well-stocked open bar that left the guests in awe.

Two.

And in the corner sat a girl with striking red hair, alone, again… as always, sipping on some champagne she thought her parents would care she swiped from the open bar.

They didn’t.

One.

More fireworks went off, bursting into sparks of gold, blue, red, and white right on top of the hill behind the house.

The girl—Anna—didn’t look up. She remained seated on the couch, crossing and uncrossing her legs, taking sip after sip of champagne. It was damn good champagne. Despite having no actual knowledge about the quality of sparkling wine after only 14 years on this earth, she could tell this was some quality shit. Cristal. It even sounded fancy.

God was she bored.

Her blue eyes scanned the crowds. Everyone was yelling, throwing their hands in the air, hugging and kissing each other.

She had no idea where her parents were. Agnarr and Iduna Larsen. The very hosts of this party. This was their house. This was her house, too, then, she supposed. The cold walls, the empty halls, the wide-open spaces that most of the time housed one or two or three people only. It was a nice house, though.

And all of that—well, everything in her life—was owed to the success of her father’s company. The Company. She knew nothing of the specifics other than it being some kind of tech software situation that clearly allowed them such a large sum of money that they were comfortable at the very least. Comfortable was Agnarr’s favorite word to describe their unnatural and disgustingly wealthy lifestyle.

Looking around again, Anna saw no trace of them anywhere.

Well—classically her mother was nowhere to be found, blessed with the uncanny ability to seamlessly blend in with the furniture at these types of parties. Well. Actually… with Iduna, it always went one of two ways. Either 1) she hid out somewhere using her stealthy camouflage skills as the night progressed or 2) she took on the role of belle of the ball, effortlessly engaged in radiant conversations with every partygoer. The difference between those two perfectly outlined by one simple distinction—whether it was a Bad Day or a Good Day.

Today was a Bad Day. Anna could feel it. Her mother’s absence more-than confirmed that blatant fact.

But still no sign of her father.

Anna rolled her eyes and gulped down more champagne. Her stomach dropped. Worst New Year’s ever. She was always required to attend these stupid Company parties because it looked good for her dad to have such a supportive youngest daughter.

And she loved parties. But.

But she wished she had somebody, anybody even remotely close to her age to share this with.

Because even though their house was filled with people, filled with people having the time of their life, she still felt so... lonely. Maybe even the loneliest she had felt in a long time.

She knew she’d feel this way. Anna had really tried her best to preemptively remedy the situation, asking her dad if she could invite her best friend, Kristoff, to the party. But of course, Agnarr had grumbled something under his breath about how that would be a bad look.

Shaking off all of that frustration, Anna slowly rose from the couch, making her way past a few scantily clad go-go dancers, trying her best to push away the cocktail meatballs and the fondue skewers they kept trying to shove into her face.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw a flash of her father, finally, standing next to a couple of his business school buddies, all of them wearing custom tailored suits with bowties and sunglasses even though they were indoors. They carelessly swung their glasses of Cristal and laughed hearty belly laughs.

Anna thought maybe she could join this conversation. Seemed fun enough.

But when she made it close enough to hear their conversation, she stopped in her tracks. They hadn’t noticed her approaching, of course. They never did. Being invisible to her father and his cronies was one of her biggest talents.

Even still, she backtracked a bit, allowing herself to hide behind the series of potted plants that lined their living room.

“I kept telling her we already had the perfect kid—why would we risk the second one? But she didn’t buy it. She wanted Elsa to have a sibling. And look where we are now.” A series of masculine laughter—guffaws more than anything else—broke out.

Anna gulped. This wasn’t new. She’d even heard it all before. Her father’s go-to party story.

But then he said it. The punchline. Stated in such a light-hearted manner with a characteristic shake of his head. “We should’ve stopped after one.”

Anna stumbled backward. It always hit her. It always hurt her. Her fourth time hearing this dumb story and it still felt like being punched in the gut.

And yet… here she was at this party alone and bored and miserable trying to please him. Hoping maybe one day he would change this story. Maybe one day he would stop telling it altogether. Because she was here. She tried. She made the effort.

It didn’t seem like it was too much to ask. Things used to be good. They used to spend time together as a family.

Tears stung her eyes. She totally should’ve just said fuck you to her dad and gone to Kristoff’s house like she wanted.

Whatever. Right now, all she needed was an escape. Anna desperately wanted to get the hell away from him.

Thus, she took off in a jog toward the kitchen, the echoes of her father’s continued laughter taunting her remorselessly.

On the way, she caught her reflection in a golden floor length mirror. Her jog slowed to a halt.

She sighed, staring deeply at her reflection. Poofy but also flawlessly curled, her usually chest-length red hair now only fell to her shoulders. Anna gave it a quick toss, adding even more body to the curls.

She stared harder, looked closer.

Both frosted pink lips and electric blue eyeshadow brought out every single feature of her face—her piercing blue eyes, her soft yet diffuse freckles, and the eternal flush of her cheeks no doubt heightened by the Cristal. She sighed, carefully biting her lip so as to not mess up her lipstick and touched the thin silver choker around her neck. One of her Christmas gifts from Santa. From her parents, duh. She knew that. But… it still felt like it came from Santa.

Anna sighed again.

She thought she looked okay. Just okay.

Now she wished she’d worn something different. Sure, the aqua sequined dress framed her body well. The straight neckline and spaghetti straps were cute. And naturally she did love that the dress fell to her upper thighs, something she figured her parents would take issue with. But again, that was exactly the reason why she’d chosen the dress in the first place.

She wanted a response. She craved a response…

But she only looked okay.

One more sigh and she decided it was time to move on.

Thankfully it didn’t really matter how she looked while she did the thing she really wanted to do next.

Anna took one last moment to look at herself. To psych herself up for what was to come.

You got this, Anna. You’ve done this loads of times before. Tonight is no different.

Because.

There was somebody she wanted to talk to. Somebody she needed to talk to. It was a new year now. 1997. Maybe 1997 was their year, maybe in 1997 they’d be close again.

Her heart beat heavily and quickly within her chest. Faster yet when she reached the kitchen… when she picked up the clunky gray cordless phone.

She had the number memorized. Duh. Anna called her sister, Elsa, at the minimum once a day.

Elsa very rarely picked up. Elsa very rarely called her back. But every so often, like a glimmer of hope, she did.

It was like 3:06am for Elsa and Anna knew that she was probably asleep. She knew, logically, that the chances Elsa would actually answer the phone were about 0.2 out of 10, but… there was that glimmer. Because Anna needed it. Because it was a new year and…

Anna couldn’t help it as the thought crossed her mind again. It now played on repeat almost like a chant. Or… a cheer.

No.

A prayer, honestly. It was a desperate prayer.

Maybe 1997 was their year. Maybe 1997 was their year. Maybemaybemaybe.

God did she hope 1997 would be their year.

After Elsa got shipped off to boarding school in the 6th grade because of her super human intelligence level that apparently could only be properly nourished by snooty institutions on the East Coast, the two sisters had largely lost touch. Elsa was busy with academics and the consistent string of pressure her parents put on her as their successful and perfect first-born daughter.

But lucky for Anna, Elsa had a shiny new Nokia phone that she got for her 18th birthday.

Anna dialed the number and held her breath. The sounds of more fireworks and more chatter and more people being beyond obnoxious filled the background and Anna decided it best to lock herself in their massive pantry. It was quieter there. She could drown out the sounds of everybody to the point that she only heard the phone ringing, her heartbeat, and that same nervous and hopeful mantra.

Maybe 1997 was their year.

The ringing stopped cold. And then one aggressive beep later and Anna thought she might start sobbing.

She couldn’t hide the quivering in her voice. “Um, Elsa. Hi. Happy New Year!” Tears welled up in her eyes. “Um. It’s dad’s dumb disco party right now and everybody’s being so loud and boring, and I have nobody to hang out with, so I thought maybe…” Her voice cracked. “I thought maybe you’d be free, but. I guess you’re not. You’re probably, like, sleeping or something. Which makes sense, um, because. Time difference or whatever. But. I thought, maybe, since it’s New Year’s and all that you’d be free or still awake or something. Um.” Maybe 1997 was their year. A sob caught in her throat. “I miss you, Els. I really miss you. I know we don’t talk that much, and I know you have so much going on and school is stressful and I’m just your annoying little sister. But. I love you. I feel…” Anna took a deep breath in. Tears rolled at a steady pace down her cheeks. “Um. Never mind. Can you just—can you give me a call when you get this? I’d love to talk to you.” She couldn’t hold in the sobs anymore. Instead of a singular crack she broke down fully, her voice quaking with frantic cries. “I miss you, Elsa. I love you.” She had to take a minute to catch her breath. “Um—bye.”

The second Anna pressed end on the phone she collapsed onto the floor. She hadn’t bothered turning the light on in the pantry and now she was thankful for the darkness. It somehow comforted her. Like she was in an entirely different dimension. She needed that escape. Shit did she need that escape.

She didn’t know what to feel. She didn’t know how to feel. Her entire body was numb.

Why did she ever let herself get her hopes up again? It always ended the same way.

Disappointment.

This wasn’t their year. It was never going to be their year.

She was stuck in this endless cycle of loneliness and rejection and abandonment and she would never break free. Never.

#frozen #fanfic #fanfiction #anna #elsa #90s #kristanna #alternate universe

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