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purpleyoonn · 10 months ago

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The Line Between Love and War 12

C H A P T E R 1 2: PTD D1 AND OVERSTIMULATION

“It is said that the night sky is made up of tiny wishes that humans were never able to fulfill. That the stars only became bright by the fulfillment of those wishes. In your eyes, the stars that shine never seemed real, your childhood wishes dark and dim as you grow. But now, now you understand the twinkle in their eyes as they look down at you.”

Summary: Your experiences told you that soulmates were something you would never have the pleasure of having; something not given to you because of who you are, despite the soulmark that resides on your inner left wrist. During your solo trip to Los Angeles, you find out that you are more than capable, that your soulmates had been waiting for you for a long time, and would not be letting you go anytime soon.

Genre: soulmate au, bts au, idol bts, polyamory relationship, eventual smut

Paring: Idol!BTS x autistic!mc

Status: Ongoing (randomly updated)

Warnings: mental illness, talk of disability, lots of angst, miscommunication, feelings of depression, feelings of isolation, polyamory bts, stalking, dangerous behavior, eventual smut,

Chapter Warnings: the concert, overstimulation, shut downs, not much, lots of feelings,

Taglist: @azazel-nyx @yuzon3 @hannahdinse8 @quirkybtsarmy @mageprincess7 @fluffy-canada-pancakes @suckerforv @chaoticthingpizza @drissteele @carolinexkpop @avadakadabra93 @lachimolala22019 @justaweird0 @singukieee @welcometomyworld13 @toughbook @kimana122 @kpopmultistantrashsstuff @0funsite0 @joyless-living @sinceritythatcouldntbedelivered @elliott-calls @psychosupernatural

Masterlist // Chapter 11 // Chapter 13

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Previously on The Line Between Love and War:

“Alright then. We well let Sejin and Seungho know. For now, I would appreciate if I could have some pre-concert kisses from my littlest mate.” Namjoon reached his arms out, pouting his lip a little knowing it would cause you to laugh at him.

You struggle to get yourself out of Hobi and Taehyung’s embrace, who noticeably tightened their grip once Namjoon opened his arms.

“Heyyyy, not nice!” You whine, finally pulling yourself away and falling into Namjoon’s arms.

“But we want pre-concert kisses too!” Taehyung whined back, making you laugh again, hiding your face in Namjoon’s neck.

You could already hear Army beginning to enter the arena, voices and screams echoing as the pre-concert videos started to play on the big screens. Taehyung was sitting with you, having finished getting ready first. He was in the middle of making sure you were okay being in the security gates in front of everyone else. He knew how loud noises made you feel.

“Don’t worry Tae! I’ve got the headphones that Yoongi gave me.” You smiled wide at him, hoping that would reassure your stressed-looking mate. It didn’t reassure him at all though. He opened his mouth to say something else but was cut off by Seungho.

“Come on, Y/n. We need to get you to your seat before the boys start.” Seungho gives Taehyung an apologetic glance and nod before he starts to lead you out of the room. But before you can leave, you turn around and quickly give each of the boys a hug, not wanting to kiss them in case it ruins the make up the make-up artists spent so long on.

“Good luck! I’m so excited!” You tell the last part to Seungho as you hold your hands up to your chest, your fists shaking in excitement.

You went from traveling about a week early to experience Los Angeles by yourself because you couldn’t get any tickets to now having seven soulmates and being able to attend not just one, but all four of the PTD La concerts. Your entire life literally changed at the blink of any eye, or well, more like running into a wall.

“This is your first concert, correct?” Seungho asked you, not remembering if you’ve attended anything before.

“Yes!” You exclaimed back, your fists still shaking as you make it to the stairs that will get you to the ground floor and into the security gates in front of the stage. There was a good maybe ten feet between the security gates for the floor seats and the stage where the boys would be performing.

Hobi explained it to you that you would have a seat in the section right in front of the edge of the stage, and that it wouldn’t be close to the floor seats where Army is seated.

They were worried to say the least. While they loved Army, and trusted them with you, they also knew there were some “fans” who were not happy that they found their last soulmate, and that it wasn’t any of them. They wanted you to be safe, which was why they wanted you up with their family in the box. Obviously, due to your fear of heights, they had to figure something else out, wanting you to experience their concert like an Army.

Seungho escorts you to the seat set aside but you don’t sit down, to excited and pumped up. You stood watching the stage, taking everything in. It seemed way different than it did earlier before sound check. The entire atmosphere was different. You could feel the energy and excitement of every single Army coming in and finding their seats. Some even running down to the 100’s section.

What caught your eye though was the people who had soundcheck coming back down to the floor section, all running towards you. You startled, Seungho moving directly in front of you once he caught the movement of the crowd. You held onto his arm before letting go just as quickly, not knowing if he was comfortable with your touch.

Despite your aversion to touch, you felt safe with him; you just didn’t know if he also had an aversion to touch and you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

However, a single, subtle nod from him let you know your actions were okay, holding onto his arm again as you try to peak over or around his broad shoulders to see the group of Armies still running your way. You didn’t know if it was because you were directly in front of the stage or what, but seeing a group of men and women running towards you scared the crap out of you.

Now you understand how celebrities feel when fans spot them out and about, without security with them.

“Stay behind me please, Y/n.” Seungho told you, feeling you trying to peek around him. He had a feeling they were rushing for you, trying to get close to the barrier in front of you. He had been watching your social media, following the discussions and posts about you. You were well liked by a lot of people, and also not so liked by some. He didn’t know which it was coming for you tonight, and he didn’t like it.

You could hear your name being called; pictures being taken of you. It was weird and seemed a bit unreal, just like earlier when you did the Instagram live. You could feel some other members of the boys’ security team moving to help Seungho.

“Seungho, I think they are just excited. I don’t think they’ll hurt me. I have you to help protect me. Plus, there is about five feet between my seat and the barrier.” You were not going to lie, you were freaking out. But you didn’t want Seungho or the boys to have to worry about you the entire time, and if Seungho continued to try and hide you from Army, you knew that would happen.

He looked back at you, and seeing how serious you were, only moved a couple inches to the left, still in front of you but not necessarily hiding you. Taking a deep breath, and trying to hide your nervous stimming, you looked at Army.

“Hi guys! Please enjoy the concert! The boys have worked super hard and are so excited to see you guys again.” You spoke loudly, not wanting to yell in Seungho’s ears as he still stood close.

“Y/n! What song are you excited for?”

“Y/n! Have you completed the bond yet?”

“Who is your bias?”

You ignored the second question, and the others like it that were being yelled your way, instead, you tried to answer some of the questions, but didn’t want to make the night about yourself. This night was about the boys, not you.

“Please guys, the concert is about to start!” You decided to move back to your seat and not stand in front of the barrier anymore.

You were now actively stimming, your body trying to help you feel more comfortable with the attention and new experiences. Your fists were clenched in front of you, shaking fast back and forth. It was a stim you’ve been doing since you were a kid, something you did when you got really excited or happy. You tried not to, despite how much you needed to, because you always felt embarrassed when doing that particular stim. You had been made fun of before for doing it, so instead you rocked your body forwards and backwards slowly.

It took a couple more minutes before you could hear the intro starting, music slowly becoming louder until the boys came on stage from below. It also took the same amount of time for you to become completely overwhelmed and overstimulated. Despite your headphones, the music was loud and seemed to be louder than the screams behind you. The lights were flashing and the movement of the boys on stage had you practically shutting down. The stares you could feel on your back didn’t help, either.

You tried hard not to though, even though you know you needed it. Your boys needed this more. This was the first concert for them since the pandemic started and the went into the army. You knew they were happy being back on stage after so long and didn’t want to ruin anything for them. You wanted them to see you happy and not having any issues. You didn’t want them to worry.

You could feel the sting from your nails digging into your palm as you clenched your hands. Your voice gone as you tried to show some kind of emotion resembling happiness or awe on your face. You didn’t need Seungho trying to bring you back into the dressing room and alerting everyone that something was wrong.

So, you spent the rest of the concert rocking back and forth and mouthing along to all the songs the boys sang. Your nails were practically stuck in your palm and you were stuck in your head. You could tell the cord connecting your mouth and brain wasn’t connected anymore and didn’t know when it would again.

You just wanted Jungkook to hold you and rub your back again but figured you probably wouldn’t get that tonight. They would probably be too pumped up with adrenal after the concert to do anything other than want to celebrate with army like normal.

You could probably get away with cuddling up to Yoongi’s sweatshirt again as you laid in your shared bed. You didn’t want to bother them when they shared this excitement and happiness with army after so long. The last thing you wanted was to be a burden.

-*-*-

Despite being completely overstimulated, you thought the concert was amazing. You don’t think you would go to one again, but you could see why so many people always praised your soulmates’ concerts and performance skills.

You waited in the dressing room as the last notes of the last song play out throughout the stadium speakers. Seungho had thought it a safety issue to exit with the rest of army to try and make it backstage. So, he had taken you back during the second to last song.

You still haven’t spoken a word, and Seungho could tell something was wrong. Your facial expression was vacant and it seemed as though your eyes were glazed over as you stared down at the small table in front of you. He was worried.

You almost didn’t notice the arrival of your soulmates, mind gone to the stimulation you felt.

“Hey baby! Did you have fun?” Jin came up and sat next to you on the loveseat, securing the spot next to you before anyone else. It was a couple of hours until his birthday and he was feeling the excitement of having his birthday with his finally complete soulbond group.

But once he saw you, zoned out and not even registering their entrance, he had a feeling of what was going on. He was reminded of the closet incidence, your wide eyes glazed and unable to track what was going on. He moved in front of you, kneeling down so he could catch your eye.

“Baby?” Jin tried, but you were gone. He now had the attention of the others, and Taehyung and Yoongi made it over first.

“What should we do? Should we hold her like last time?” Taehyung asked, remembering how Jungkook held you in his arms and how the physical contact helped bring you back.

“Here, let me try something.” Namjoon took control, switching places with Jin who now sat back next to you. Their movement didn’t phase you, your eyes still glazed over.

Namjoon moved slowly, just in case you came back to, and moved so his palm was cupping your cheek. At his touch, your eyes became focused again and he could see how truly tired you were.

“Hi baby girl. Are you okay?” He knew you weren’t but he still needed to know if something was physically wrong, and you seemed to know his intention as you shook your head no. At this response, they all knew you were nonverbal; Jimin, Jungkook and Taehyung all watching from the back as their hyungs take over the situation.

“How about we go back to the hotel, and have a relaxing night, hmm?” Namjoon asks but stops as you shake your head, grabbing tightly to his forearm. His face scrunched up in concern, wondering what was going on through your head.

You swallow your spit, trying your hardest to push words through your lips, only for them to keep getting caught in the back of your throat. Finally, you manage to push through one word, hoping they understand what you mean.

“Celebrate.” You word is raspy, as if you had a bad cold recently.

They had just gotten back from the military only months ago, managed to plan two weekends worth of content and concerts for Army, and as only a fan could know, they usually celebrated the concert afterwards with a live. You didn’t want that taken away from Army, and you didn’t want the boys to break a tradition just because you got overstimulated. It didn’t seem fair in any way.

You would be fine; you always were before. Yeah, it might take time, but you would be fine.

Army needed the boys more than you right now.

“What do you mean baby?” Jimin asked from behind Hobi, eyes narrowed in confusion as he watches your expression.

You knew you couldn’t push out another word, so you grabbed Namjoon’s palm from your cheek and held it flat in front of you, using your pointer finger you traced the word Army on his palm, hoping he would get it. You even trace it in Hangul when he didn’t get it in English.

“You want us to celebrate with Army?” Namjoon finally realizes what you were trying to say, nodding his head as it clicks.

You nod your head in response but stop once you see the look on your soulmates faces. You could tell they didn’t understand why you were asking them that. Why you wanted them to celebrate with army even when you weren’t doing good.

So, you pull out the big guns, something Jimin taught you when Jin kept telling you no more ice cream. Jimin said it would bring out an immediate ‘yes’ from the hyungs every time, so you tried it.

You pulled out the puppy dog eyes and the lip pout.

An immediate round of groans sounded throughout the room, every single one of your soulmates looked away from you, trying not to be drawn in by your expression.

To seal the deal, you brought your hands together, folded in a way that everyone usually added with pleading words, but you couldn’t speak right now, so you held your clenched hands up close to your face.

Eventually, Jin was the one who folded.

“Alright baby! But we have some conditions.” He raised an eyebrow at you as you turned to face him.

“We’ll do the live as long as you are there with us, so we can see you and make sure you’re okay. You’re going to drink some water, and let one of us hold you until the live, because that helped you a lot last time.” You knew they were talking about the last time you got too overstimulated, so you agreed.

Maybe selfishly, though, you agreed to the terms. You kind of just wanted to be cocooned in like a little safety nest as you watched the boys do their live, maybe covered in one of their shirts or sweaters again. They always made you feel safe and comfortable and were slowly becoming a part of your collection of safe clothing.

“Okay, boys, lets grab our things so we can get back to the hotel. Namjoon, why don’t you grab out little soulmate and go get into the car, we’ll grab your things.” Jin clapped his hands together after moving the night along, wanting to get back to the hotel.

It didn’t take but a couple seconds for Namjoon to pick you up, his hands moving under your thighs and holding you to him so you were chest to chest.

“Come here baby. Let’s go.” You looked around for your backpack, only to see Seungho handing it off to Jungkook who had deemed your backpack his responsibility. You can’t fight him for carrying you this time, exhaustion finally hitting you as you tuck your head into the curve of your soulmate’s neck.

It was a good thing too, as you didn’t realize some fans had figured out where the boys’ vans were and had been waiting outside for you all to leave, phones at the ready to take pictures and videos. This also meant that it would take longer to get back to the hotel, as some fans loved trying to follow the boys to figure out where you all were staying.

One of Namjoon’s hands moved from your holding your thigh to covering your face, protecting you in what he considers a vulnerable moment. He walked faster, Sejin moving with him so he could open the door for you both before having a word with one of the drivers.

Even as you get into the car, and Namjoon’s sits down, he still holds you on his lap, crossing his arms behind your back so you were practically glued to his chest. He moved his left hand lower, almost touching your butt as he moves his hand under your shirt, making contact with your back and begins rubbing his hand up and down your back. He knew this helped you last time and it was one of the only things he had to go on right now as far as helping you out of your shut down.

You both wait patiently for your other soulmates, time passing slowly as you turn your head and watch fans take pictures of the van. You knew they couldn’t get pictures of you through the tinted windows, but you still felt a little vulnerable. You were unable to protect yourself in anyway, nonverbal and in the middle of a shutdown, and it was a little daunting.

You turned your head back into Namjoon’s neck, your head resting against his chest as you watch the boys all begin to make their way quickly to the vans. Jungkook, Hobi, and Yoongi made their way into your van, while the others went into the first one.

“Okay, so Sejin is going to separate our vans, each going a separate way to make it back to the hotel so we aren’t followed. We also have three deco vans waiting to draw confusion.” Yoongi’s voice was raspy and slow from the concert and his own emotions.

He, along with the others were feeling a lot of emotions from finally being able to perform at a concert for Army, but also watching you shut down from the very same concert. It was a lot.

“How is she?” Jungkook asks quietly.

Out of all your soulmates, Jungkook seems to have taken on most of the responsibility for your care and well-being on himself. He finally has a soulmate younger than him, that can rely on him and that he can provide for. So, for him, he has put the responsibility on his own shoulders, something his soulmates have already talked to him about.

“I’m okay.”

You were. You had just been relishing in Namjoon’s touch and had felt the connection build again between your brain and mouth. You still weren’t used to being taken care of, to mean something to other people, and you knew it would take a while but you loved the way they worried about you, the way they cared for you.

It was the same way you cared for them.

-*-*-

It had taken you over an hour to make it back to the hotel. There had been several vehicles trying to follow you, the final car getting lost at a traffic light about fifteen minutes ago. To be safe, the driver kept driving around.

Your van had been the last to make it back to the hotel, and when you go to the room, a small bundle of blankets and pillows, along with some of the boys’ sweaters had been made into a little nest for you by the far wall close to the kitchen. You were in perfect view of the boys as the couches and chairs had been rearranged so they could all be in view of the camera.

When Namjoon let you down, a bundle of clothes had been shoved into your hand as Jimin led you to your shared room with Yoongi and Jin to change. Jimin walked into the bathroom while you changed into a pair of your comfy leggings and one of Taehyung’s shirts.

After doing your skincare for you, wanting you to feel nice and clean while you waited for them to be finished, Jimin helped you back into the living room and into your small nest, bundling Jin and Jungkook’s sweater around you while you watched the boys set up snacks and drinks on the coffee table.

“Okay, now, don’t move.” Jimin pointed his finger at you, his face scrunching playfully as he tries to make you smile. And it works, a small giggle making its way out of your mouth catching the attention of your soulmates.

“Here,” he pulls your phone out of his back pocket, pulling up the live on it before handing it to you. “Keep an eye out for questions you think we should answer, okay baby?” He asks you, wanting you to still be involved in their tradition with Army. While he would rather you be seated with them on the couch, he knows it’s not what you need right now.

“I will, Minnie.” You nod and smile tiredly at his request. He smiles back, kissing you softly before pulling back entirely, Jungkook taking his place with a bottle of water for you. He stays quiet, kissing your forehead before moving to sit with Hobi and Joon on the couch.

You watch them as the live starts, hundreds of questions showing up on the screen as thousands of viewers turn into millions. At first a lot of the questions are about you, why Namjoon was seen carrying you out of the venue and some were even asking why you stayed seated the entire concert.

The boys said a simple response to questions about you. They agreed that they wanted to stop the rumors of any health issues or problems while they could, especially after Namjoon was seen carrying you out.

“Y/n is doing okay and is resting here with us after a long and overstimulating day. She had a lot of new experiences and is in the middle of processing them.” Namjoon spoke in his leader voice, glancing at you for a few seconds as he speaks.

The questions and comments continue, but this time mainly about the boys and the concerts and their upcoming plans. You even commented a few things, trying to remember what it felt like to be Army, commenting “I love you” and hoping they would see it.

You did that the entire time, finding cute little comments and even yelling out “Yoongi Marry Me” every time you saw it which did not amuse your cute soulmate who only looked your way while the others laughed every time. You also drank your entire bottled water, knowing that was one of the promises you made to Jin.

And in the end, once the live was finished, he was the first to go to you, picking you up out of your little nest and into his arms. You were feeling a lot better, no longer overstimulated due to your soulmates care.

“How are you feeling, baby?” You could hear the concern in his voice.

“I’m doing a lot better! You all always seem to know what to do.” You hug him tightly, kissing his jaw in a show of thanks.

“Well, I bought tickets for an amusement park for tonight for us. Do you think you might be up for it?” Jin couldn’t even finish his question before you were squealing in his ear, jumping from his hold and rushing to your shared room.

“I guess that is a yes.” He told Yoongi and Taehyung who were staring at Jin, seeing the entire thing before walking off to the room.

Jimin and Jungkook were already in the room, helping you pick out a matching outfit with Jin, who was going in a pair of his overalls and a white shirt. He wanted you all to match, but you and Jimin were the only ones who currently had a pair of overalls to wear.

You were excited, jumping in your seat as you waited for everyone else to get ready to go. You loved the rides and playing the games but you think your favorite was the food. You never really went to the fair often, which was as close to an amusement park as you had gotten, your mother thinking going to a big field full of people of all walks of life below her standing.

But you loved it and couldn’t wait to experience it with your soulmates.

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carolmunson · 1 year ago

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spin doctor | e.m. x reader

mini ficlet, eddie munson works at a record store. he’s a little snobby. sort of shy!reader if you squint? it’s the very late 90s.

tw: 18+ references to smut/virginity, all around meet-cute-ish.

The rain slaps off the top of your coffee cup and into your eyes while you take a sip, woefully regretting not bringing an umbrella because the weather man said it was only misting. This isn't mist, this is just under a downpour, the hood of your dad's old canvas jacket doing little to protect you from the rain while it darkens with each drop the green fabric absorbs. You stop at the corner, protecting yourself from the weather under the awning of a laundromat. Squinting up towards the overcast gray sky, you double check the cross streets, two more blocks and you'll make it there. There being the record store that you found in the yellow pages after you inherited your parent's record player in their latest attic clean out. Your dad was smart though, sold all of the records that were in mint condition to collecters -- which left you recordless and sort of at a loss of where to start now that they were only sold at specialty stores.

You hurry your way down the next two blocks, finally seeing the sign for VI Chord Records lit up across the street in buzzing red neon. You wait to cross, seeing the reflection of the light in the wet asphalt while the sky starts to darken. Winter easing in slow these days while the nights start to come quicker than expected.

The door jingles when you open it, two guys at the check out counter looking up breifly and then back to their conversation; the other patrons don't even look. You take a breath, happy that at least no one is paying attention. You've never been to a record store before -- bought music, sure; CDs and cassettes but never vinyl -- that was like an old people thing. But your dad couldn't stop going on and on about how music just sounds better when you listen to it like that; and to be fair a lot of your favorites from the 60s and 70s sounded flat on your Walkman. You were on the hunt for the authentic experience now, the real deal.

You start at the 'New Arrivals' bin, pulling down your hood and taking off your headphones to put in your nylon back pack while you search. You sip your coffee while your fingers flick, flick, flick through the sleeves, crunching on and over the plastic protective covering of each record. You don’t know who most of the artists are, names hidden in intricate artwork or vulgar close ups of tits and crotch. You laugh at a few under your breath.

You continue your search, going over to the K section to see if you can find Carole King’s Tapestry, only to be inundated with Kiss record after Kiss record. Kix, Krokus, Kick Axe — King nowhere in the bunch. You let out a soft sigh, eyes scanning the back wall over the guys heads at the check out counter. Guitars hang on the velvet wall paper, gleaming with a fresh sign with scribbles of signatures on them. You land over by the S section, fingers flick flick flicking again to run into Slayer, T’s taken over by Twisted Sister. You don’t even realize how much time has gone by until you take a sip of coffee and nothing is left.

“Can I help you find something?”

You jump, not expecting to head a disembodied voice by the back of your neck, “Huh?”

“You just seem like you’re not finding what you’re looking for, can I help?”

You turn while he asks, one of the guys from the counter who looks like he’s stuck somewhere in the 80s and his grunge phase. His hair is to his shoulders, wavy and cut into a shag that put your moms 70s hair do to shame. The slight stubble on his chin and cheeks stretches with his smile — customer service perfection, but only for pretty things like you.

His crosses his arms over his army green tee, matching your coat that’s nearly dry now. His tattooed arms bulge slightly in the stance, straining against the small sleeves. Your eyes focus on the guitar pick dangling in the center of his chest; suddenly embarrassed by the attention.

“Um,” you start, eyes flicking up to meet his brown ones — soft and eager, like he’s excited to talk to you. Your eyes scan down to the black and gray flannel tied around his narrow waist, falling limply over his dark wash worn jeans into combat boots.

“Uh,” you stutter for a second, trying to not to get caught up in this handsome stranger, “I’m sorta new to records. My dad just gave me his but he sold all his good stuff so um — starting from zero I guess.”

“Ooh, nice,” he grins, “So a virgin, huh?”

You sputter, “Well um — no but —”

“Vinyl virgin, sweetheart,” he winks, “Don’t worry. I don’t need to know the horny details.”

“So what were you trying to find today?” he asks, leaning against the stacked milk crates full to the brim at the center of the room, “We actually just got some solid rares in if you’re trying to start a good collection.”

“I just wanna listen to oldies,” you laugh.

He laughs too, it’s smoky and cool, “Nah, nah, I hear you. What kinda oldies like — early Black Sabbath or…?”

You bite your lower lip, “I was more thinking like um, Motown? The Temptations? Maybe some James Taylor. I was mostly trying to find The Flamingos single for —”

He laughs while you continue on but then realizes you aren’t joking, head coming back to center, “Oh you’re, you’re serious?”

You feel heat lick at your cheeks and chest, sweat slickly creeping on the top of your back, “Yeah I thought…it’s a record store so—”

“Not that kind, princess,” he shrugs, hands dropping to lean against the crates behind him, “We only sell hard rock and metal here for the most part. You could check the dollar bins for drop offs, we don’t really sort those.”

“Oh,” you nod, averting his gaze while you see the big bin in the corner labeled ‘Dollar Donations’.

“Yeah maybe you’ll find your doo-wop stuff in there or something,” his voice has a hint of teasing to it that makes your teeth grit.

“Are you like, shitting on me?” you ask shakily, kind of surprised this is actually happening to you. That this guys is legitimately being a jerk over wanting music that maybe he’s not into.

“No, no, no,” he urges, “No. I’m sorry, seriously. It’s just that we don’t really get people who come in here not looking for what we sell. We’re kinda well known for being a vintage metal store.”

“Yeah well, I didn’t know that so,” you shrug, defeated weighing down your shoulders.

“It’s okay,” he assures, sweet smile tugging his lips up to reveal deep dimples, “You’re a vinyl virgin, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember,” you roll your eyes, making your way to the bin while he follows behind you.

“Maybe if you tell me what kind of music you like now I can find a good one for you,” he offers, hand resting on his chest that’s covered in silver rings and chipped nail polish, “I’ve been told I make great recommendations.”

“I’ve been liking Blink-182 lately. Backstreet Boys on the other side of the coin,” you shrug, “And um, one of my friends has been trying to get me into Nine In Nails.”

“Now we’re talking,” he smiles, “There we go. Anything else? What’s the other older stuff you like?”

“Uh, um,” you shrug again, “Elton John? Eric Clapton?”

He nods again, “Okay, some of this stuff I can work with. What about uh, hmm, Fleetwood Mac? Sort of your vibe?”

You smile at him without meaning to, making him nearly stutter at the site, “Yeah, that’s sort of my vibe.”

“Alright,” he nods while he racks his brain for the perfect album to pick for you, “I think I got an idea of what to pull for you.”

“Okay,” you cross your arms with a smirk, “Fine. I hope it’s impressive.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he grins cockily, “Never had anyone complain about me popping their cherry.”

“At least take a girl for a drink first,” you joke back, “I don’t even know your name.”

“I’m Eddie,” his hand extends out and you take it, his skin warm and slightly clammy at his never ending bumbling when talking to girls like you, “Happy to be taking your vinyl virginity today.”

You laugh, squeezing his hand slightly when you introduce yourself before letting go, “Be gentle, please. I’m new to this.”

“C’mon,” he cocks his head to the opposite wall by the ‘F’ section, “I got a lot to show you. We’ll go slow.”

He winks again; making you swallow hard. It might not have been where you meant go today, but it might have been exactly where you were meant to be.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie stranger things #stranger things fan fiction #stranger things au #eddie munson au

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sethvzekiel · 1 year ago

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what could have been | 141 x cold!reader

a passing admission proceeds to completely take over his mind

141 x cold! reader. callsign azrael. gn! reader. mild angst + pining. multiple POV, no established relationship. flashback central, marked in red + italics.

part 1/same AU as this

Long hc/short fic. 3.6k words.

It was banter — really, just mindless chatter to fill the silence on the way back home. Something to wear off the adrenaline from the previous battle. It spilled from lips like loose threads, mindless ramblings about past experiences and feelings and army stories.

Stories like “LT, what do ye mean I wasn’t first place? That was a solid run I just did, solid!” and “When you were our age, Captain, they didn’t have telly,” between snickers and friendly insults.

You were the contractor, not one of them: a position you were keen on protecting as you kept to the far corner of the army plane, typing up your own report for Laswell. The chatter droned on in the back of your mind as you spared only the barest sliver of attention for emergencies. It was only when someone mentioned your name that you looked up from your laptop.

Gaz tilted his head at you, a spark of mischief in his eyes. He’d been getting bold lately, fully confident that he was your favorite comrade. Gaz did always have a sharp tongue, even for Price.

“Have you ever been in love?”

You scoffed, fully ready to get back to your report.

“What are we, schoolgirls at a sleepover? Don’t ask stupid questions.”

Someone closed your laptop. Soap.

“No, no, answer his question!”

“Scotsman. Get your hand off something that’s five times your salary, or I’ll remove it myself.”

You were only half kidding; the laptop was six times his salary. Merc money was a lovely thing.

Soap quickly retreated, muttering something about being on the wrong career path and “five times my fuckin’ salary, get off yer arse,” but nudged you nevertheless.

It felt as if the conversation was finally going to move on when another spoke.

“Answer the question, Azrael.”

This was a joke. You didn’t hide your disdain as you glared at Price.

“Really, Captain?”

Price took a long drag of his cigar.

“Answer it and I’ll tell Kate you’re on good behavior. She’ll be over the moon to hear you’re getting some social interaction.”

Unfortunately, he wasn’t lying. Laswell did not hide her hopes of getting you true comrades, not just contracted acquaintances, when she introduced you to the 141 — a hope you’d gone out of your way to quash for a long time. If a false reassurance from Price would get her mind off that ridiculous idea and focus on getting you more kill contracts…

Well, not a bad trade-off for pretending to be friends for one plane ride.

You let out a sigh from deep within your soul, opened your laptop again, and pulled up the report. Almost mindlessly, you spoke whatever came to your mind at that very moment, not knowing how badly it would change the 141.

“Sure.”

God, you could feel the whole plane lean in with anticipation.

“Never had the time to fall in love, but…”

You mentally shrugged. This was fine to admit, right?

“... I was briefly interested in one of you. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

You popped on your headphones, leaving the boys to dwell with that answer.

The plane couldn’t have gone any faster.

◈ GAZ

Interested? Like, interested-interested?

There was no getting you out of those headphones—he’d tried before, didn’t end well. The entire task force was stunned silent for a minute, each one picking apart your casual admission and grappling with the idea of Oh God, is it me?

It was Soap who broke first, exploding into a shocked yell that boomed throughout the tiny plane. That shook Gaz out of his stunned silence, but he still blinked rapidly as he tried to comprehend what you’d just said.

Interested. In one of them.

There was a one in four chance that it was him. Five, if Laswell counted, but he was certain that you saw her more as a mentor and confidant than a romantic prospect. Besides, she wasn’t even in the plane. It was between him, Soap, LT, and the Captain, and this was a battle royale he was keen on winning.

Gaz wasn’t blind. He was the first to notice the changing opinions of his teammates on you. Bearing the combined advantage of brains and emotional awareness, things the 141 usually lacked one or the other of, he picked up on Price’s constant attention towards you that increasingly felt less like a professional checkup. He knew about Ghost’s rivalry with you that brought a tinge of tenderness to his gruff exterior as he complimented your skill. And who could miss Soap locking onto you like a missile from day one?

But it had to be him, right? He was the only one you spoke to of your own accord, the one whose name you called when arranging for shared night shifts. The one who’s actually been to your room (he happily ignored the fact that he was just there to fetch a report for Laswell). The one who, at a drunken night out where you’d actually gotten tipsy for once, you’d stuck to like glue, no matter how rowdy the pub got.

Gaz was your first defender in the 141. When even Price was wary of your cold nature and mercenary background, Gaz was always up at arms, ready to express the simple truth that you were just a professional, and Price could look at Ghost for an example, couldn’t he? Always jumping the gun, fighting back even Soap’s teases at your expense simply because you weren’t present to defend your attitude and the unfairness of their assumptions felt real to Gaz. They didn’t see the you he saw. They just had to.

You were soft around him. Safe. And Gaz felt the same way, too. As much as you’d listen to his ramblings of whatever’s going on in his life, he looked forward to your own stories, hanging off of every rough-toned word as you shared your wisdom from past fights and your assessment of his skills, which he’d known was your way of caring for him. Making sure that he’d live long to fight good.

“In another world,” he’d said one night as you watched the last hours of your watch tick away. “Would you be back on the field again? If you had a choice to walk away from all this, live a normal life?”

Back then, your moonlit expression was intense, but sorrowful as you considered your answer. Gaz thought that you were only being sincere in answering him when you’d gazed deep into his eyes, but now, he couldn’t help but wonder if you meant something else when you replied:

“I don’t know. Where would you be?”

“Dunno either. Always wanted to protect people. Make some real change. Don’t think I’d handle being an artist or bloody stockbroker all my life.”

He was so fucking stupid. Why didn’t he actually listen to what you’d said when he was too busy imagining living some alternate life, when you were right in front of him and so close?

You smelled nice.

“Then I’ll follow you back to the fight, Kyle.”

“Aw mate, I’ll look forward to it, yeah?”

The memory, the regrets, and the what-could’ve-been’s swirled in Gaz’s mind and stung at his eyes.

He wanted to look at you again, but he wasn’t going to risk anyone seeing his face right now with how he’s feeling.

He was a bloody moron, and he lost his chance.

◈ SOAP

“Yer taking the piss!”

Laughter was always Johnny’s first response. Little Johnny-boy giggling nervously as his mother demanded to know where he’d been after playing outside until dark. Freshly-recruited MacTavish snickering as he far surpassed the other recruits in exercises, again, to their dismay. Sergeant Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish cackling with delight and adrenaline as he fired off the C4, lighting up the battlefield with plumes of orange fire.

Laughter was also a defense mechanism: difficult personalities, hard questions, bad days. Heal it or shrug it off, Soap was never one to make things more complicated than they should be.

This laughter… he wasn’t sure if it was one of joy or nerves.

You were interested. Were, he tried to remind himself, but his mind kept on latching onto the ‘interested’ part. One of them—which could’ve been him.

He was delusional now, flailing around and being the jokester when it was all just an act to hide his inner turmoil. Fuck, did you know that he had it bad for you? It was his fault for not bothering to hide it and trailing after you, but he thought that you already shrugged it off as a joke. Did… did you take him seriously, after all?

Or worse, what if it wasn’t him?

His glance went to Gaz, remembering how he’d fallen asleep on the truck that one time and accidentally leaned on your shoulder, how you stiffened, then slowly settled down, even adjusting your shoulder for the entire two-hour drive. How, no matter the situation or your mood, you always called upon Gaz with a decidedly softer tone than the one you used on him.

Surely, he wasn’t that attached to you. You were comrades, a passing fancy wouldn’t hurt anything.

He’d never seen LT smile, ever. Part of it’s the mask, but it was clear in his voice and the lack of crinkling around his eyes that smiling wasn’t his thing. But then Ghost and you had that sniper competition, dragged Soap in to referee, and when you hit dead-center for all moving targets, Soap wrenched his gaze away to catch a shine of something in Ghost’s eyes as he watched you.

Friends and professionals. That was all you were, right?

“Good health makes good men, MacTavish,” you said sharply as he sat up on his bed. Soap was forced into the medbay after a particularly grueling op. Long, sleepless nights, absolute hellfire, and blood loss all culminated in him passing out from shock mid-battle. His memories of the exact moment he collapsed were hazy, but he knew that he heard someone call his name in a choked scream.

Was it Gaz who screamed then? He was always the worrywart. Soap scratched his head, wincing as pain flared up his side at the simple motion. He shot you a shining, albeit weak, grin.

“Don’t lose yer head over me, was just the one time.”

Your glare narrowed.

“One time is all it takes, soldier.”

Fuck, you were calling him ‘soldier’ now? You were pissed. Soap raised his hands in surrender.

“I give, I give. I’ll take my meds a day and all that shite. No trouble from me.”

For a moment, he was expecting more scolding, admonishments of his recklessness or a possible lack of skill. A “stop dragging the rest of us down with you,” considering your pride in your own battle prowess. But he got no such thing.

You sighed, looking a thousand nights older as you did, and he caught the marks of sleepless nights under your eyes. The roughness of your hands as you held his good shoulder. The miniscule caress of your thumb that he assumed (back then) was purely accidental.

“Make good on that, Johnny,” you whispered, gaze drifting off elsewhere. “You have to.”

Your voice was hoarse—why? When you left and the medic had taken your place, refreshing Soap’s bandages, he asked about how long he was out.

“Three days, sergeant,” the medic replied. “And your scary friend insisted on staying here for all of it. Tended to you like one of our own staff.”

“Psh, LT? Knew he was soft.”

“No, no, not the lieutenant. Your PMC friend.”

Without even thinking about it, Johnny laughed.

◈ GHOST

He definitely wasn’t paying attention to the mindless gossip, and anyone who’d say otherwise will have months of latrine duty awaiting them. Gaz calling your name piqued his attention, but only barely, and brought a tickle of amusement when he asked you such a ridiculous question.

He was much less amused at your answer.

It was sarcastic, he tried to reason. Spouting off bullshit to keep the boys off your trail and get back to work as soon as possible. That’s what you’re always like, and that’s what he liked about you.

He also liked your shots. The pride you took in your expertise. The devotion to your warcraft. How you always took his challenges as if your name was on the line. How you’d smirk if you won, or promise comeuppance if you lost.

He liked your loyalty to Laswell — and envied it. You obeyed him and Price, yes, but he would never forget the brief gleam of admiration when the boys asked you about Laswell over lunch. He liked and envied your closeness with Gaz: a sign that you might be a true ally of the 141 after all, but a closeness that he wondered if you could extend to anyone else. He respected your ferocious protectiveness of Soap when he’d (stupidly) collapsed mid-battle, but watching you tend to Soap for nights on end wrenched something awful from within his chest.

You were a shade more casual with Price. According to the captain, you had some snark to you when not in work mode: a privilege Price had gotten purely because you were both friends of Laswell. You bonded with Price like you were fellow leaders, people down similar paths instead of mere colleagues, and when planning missions, you and Price made up a tactical machine to be reckoned with.

It was whenever he’d deliver late night reports to Price’s office, that he’d listen before knocking on the door. Muffled conversation—most of it Price’s, but every so often, there was a quick chuckle that wasn’t his, or a quiet snark followed by Price’s gravelly laughter. The office would be thick with cigar smoke when Ghost was allowed in, but what was harder to swallow was the cigar hanging from your lips that you’d returned to Price, and he’d popped it between his teeth without question.

Ghost was in deep. He’d never admit it to anyone, not even to himself, but he was. That chilling, anxiety-inducing truth nudged at the back of his head as he silently watched Soap cackle and holler throughout the plane while you intentionally ignored them, eyes trained on your report like your life depended on it.

You and the laptop. A familiar sight when he’d pass by the rec room on late nights, where you’d be tapping away at the laptop with stacks of coffee cups and energy bars littered across the table.

“Bloody hell, that can’t wait until tomorrow?” He’d asked, exasperated, by the fifth night.

You took a moment more to work before responding.

“The mob won’t wait for tomorrow. This mission needs to go down tonight.”

“Don’t let me stop you.”

He didn’t know why he stayed there with you, sharing the couch as he made tea for two and set a cup beside you without a word. He could have actually tucked in for the night, gotten some well-deserved sleep lest he be grouchier than ever for the next day’s training drills. Or popped open a book if he felt like it. Anything more productive than sit beside you all night as you silently blazed through reports and phone calls, arranging operations that he had no business in caring about.

You were exhausted, but you were determined and alert as you ferried reports on the trafficking ring takedown. The calm, effortless strength in your voice as you spoke—sometimes strongly—with operatives much higher up the chain than you, because you knew what you were doing and were going to see this op to the end. A flicker of silent gratitude as Ghost refilled your tea again and tidied up your makeshift workspace.

A call by the first sliver of sunrise made you sag into the couch with relief.

“Mission accomplished?” Ghost asked.

You slid your tired gaze to him, and this close to you, he caught your tiny, sleepy grin.

“G’job, LT,” you murmured, voice thick with lethargy. “Mmh… needta phone Kate…”

“I’ll do it.”

“Not your op.”

“Don’t think Laswell’d understand a word of what you’re saying right now. C’mon, let’s get you some rest.”

He beckoned for you to stand up, only to hear a soft, muffled snore. You… were sleeping, knocked-out dead, with a hint of your grin remaining, probably dreaming about a job well done. Disheveled, snoring, and surrounded in loose notes and coffee stains, you were far from the cold professional that you normally made yourself to be.

The rec room was no place for sleeping. Soap would be here any minute, booming and hollering as him and Gaz would raid the fridge, again. You needed to be anywhere else.

And if Ghost was going to carry you in his arms all the way back to your room and go through the trouble of arranging for your sudden day-off, then he was going to do it silently, and pretend it never happened when you approached him the next day.

◈ PRICE

That… was a surprise.

While Price was the most privy to your story as your commanding officer and, more importantly, Laswell’s friend, much of your life was still a mystery to him. Laswell only gave him a few pointers: “They’ve had a long life, John,” and “Trust is a double-edged sword for them.”

He could guess when you entered Laswell’s life. It was some years ago, when she was busier than ever, to the point that he’d considered staging an intervention alongside her wife when Laswell refused with fire in her eyes. She was fighting for something, he could tell, but he didn’t know what exactly until she told him about you.

Somewhere in the gaps between what little he knew about you, Price hoped you had some normalcy to your life. Enough memories on hand to look back fondly upon, to carry you through the darker days. Yet he had a feeling that you had little of such memories to yourself. Perhaps, that was why he decided to share with you some of his own.

Foolishness in his youth. Summers from his wilder days. Dreams he’d had and lost, but never mourned—the kinds of men he’d wanted to become before making peace with himself. You understood, somehow: you were an old soul, no matter your age, a wealth of experiences and wisdom in you with just as many unanswered questions.

You can be safe with me, his soul all but screamed in your nightly chats. The doubt and fear and sorrow layered on your shoulders like dust was easy for him to see when he could feel the same thing. You weren’t delicate, not by a long shot. You were one of the strongest people he knew, but there was nothing Price could do to stifle the yearning in his chest to hold you, let you rest in his shadow and believe for once that everything was going to be alright.

“Do you have any interest in living long, sir?” You muttered as Price brought out his first cigar of the night. He wouldn’t be smoking this early in the night, but he had to deal with higher-ups and red tape all day just for some damn clearance. You were the only person he’d actually looked forward to speaking with that day.

“Smoking won’t kill me, Azrael—” You scoffed, then. “—it’s the bloody Pentagon that will.”

“And the UN. And the UK.”

“If the boys don’t get to me first. Where’s my lighter?”

“Here you go.” You didn’t have his lighter, but you had your own up and ready.

“Picked up the habit, did you?”

“No. You’ve lost your lighter enough times that I bought one myself.”

He offered you a gruff thanks and sank into his chair, watching the smoke swirl up to the amber light. You leaned back on his desk, your body barely brushing his—something that he was used to by then that he was second-guessing now.

It was beautiful and terrible, how close his hand was to yours.

Stupid stories made you laugh, but not foolish ones. Your concern for the boys was evident even in simple retellings of the past; a fact that burned in his heart when he noticed. So he told you about how Gaz tried to fix a leaky shower only to explode the entire camp’s plumbing system, he clung to your brief chuckle like a lifeline. The mirth lighting up your face was going to be his second addiction.

“Want to try, soldier?” He asked as he held out his cigar, not for the first time.

“Just this once. If it’s ass, you’re not getting another light out of me.”

He was going to offer you a new one, but you’d taken the one he’d been smoking and casually placed it between your lips, as if the very sight hadn’t made the blood roar in Price’s ears. You frowned at the taste—he laughed, ignored the flush of heat across his body.

A knock on the door: Simon, turning in his papers. He froze when he saw you and Price, and though obscured by his mask, Price knew the lieutenant well enough to recognize the hesitation in his steps.

Why did he do it?—Price wondered now as he recalled that night, how you’d returned the cigar and he, without thinking, popped it right back to his mouth in front of Simon. And why did he feel proud?

But Price had to hold himself in check. As captain, he had boundaries that he mustn’t cross. The team’s well-being was his top priority, that was always the truth of it, and as he watched the boys dwell in the fallout of your shocking admission, he had no place in making this rivalry worse, no matter how he felt about you.

#cod x reader #task force 141 x reader #call of duty x reader #simon riley x reader #john price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #john soap mactavish x reader

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yoongisababygoat · 10 months ago

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Kitty /ᐠ - ˕ -マ

˚₊‧ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅˚₊‧ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅˚₊‧ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅˚₊‧ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅˚₊‧ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅˚₊‧ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅˚₊

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Rating: SFW!

Genre: Fluff

A/N: As armys, we shall NEVER let go of the cat Min agenda. NEVER.

˚₊‧ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅˚₊‧ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅˚₊‧ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅˚₊‧ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅˚₊‧ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅˚₊‧ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅˚₊˚₊‧ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅˚₊‧ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅˚₊‧

THE evening was the usual for both you and Yoongi. Both back from work, social batteries drained, hurdled in warm cozy spots doing your own things.

For you, you stayed curled up on the couch, cocooned in your fluffy blanket, nose buried in your book.

Whilst Yoongi sat on his designated chair, curled up with his laptop working on some beats which according to him were 'for fun not work'.

"Yooon",

Silence

"Yoonie?", you call out eyes still fixed on your book.

Being met with silence once again, you look up to find him wearing headphones.

Taking a page from your sticky notes, you curl it into a ball and throw it at him, immediately getting his attention.

He looks up at you puzzled, examining the paper ball.

"Yoongiee can you grab me the kitty please? I wanna snuggle", you ask of your lover, honey practically drizzling from your tone because ofcourse your request would require him to walk downstairs and grab the poor cat for your snuggles sake.

He looks up at you once again only to be greeted by the greatest puppy eyes you could pull.

He looks at you for a second, then away, thinking.

"You want to snuggle the cat huh?", he asks breaking out of his trance.

He stands up, putting his laptop aside, brings his arm to the backside of the collor of his shirt, mimicking the action of being lifted up. He abruptly makes his way towards you and plops his body right onto yours, causing you to let out a huff.

"What're you doing?", you ask, confused but still inviting him in your arms naturally.

"You wanted to snuggle a cat", he explains hiding his face in your neck.

"Meow"

˚₊‧ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅˚₊‧ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅˚₊‧ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅˚₊‧ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅˚₊‧ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅˚₊‧ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅˚₊˚₊‧ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅˚₊‧ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅˚₊‧ଳ

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ

Reblogs and comments are soooooo appreciated 🙁��💗

@yoongisababygoat © Donot repost, translate or mark my work as yours.

#min yoongi x reader #bts suga #bts fanfic #min yoongi #yoongie #kitty #cars #cat #little meow meow #meow #min yoongi fluff #drabble

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casablancarossa · 1 year ago

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Please Amore.

<< a taemin x reader story>>

asdfghjkl; I'm fine seriously. Totally have recovered(?) No I have not been sitting on this fic for a while.

Pairings : Taemin x female!reader Genre: Smut. Content Warning : 18+, Minors DNI, Yeah it is smut okay?! Synopsis: You missed a side of Taemin. The non-gentle side of Taemin. And you are hellbent in seeing it. Authors Note: Seem I am incapable of writing anything short? So here ya go darlings. Another long read of Taemin torturing us.

You relaxed back into your seat of the green room, watching through the monitor of Taemin's performance. He was breathless, sweating and positively oozing with 'fuck me' energy. Something about him performing Strings really stirred something in you where you couldn't control yourself around him. It was like a little drug in your system that craved being held by him, being right under him. A lump in your throat caused you to cough violently which caused the stylists and other stage staff to giggle at you a bit.

It was not a secret, at least to anyone in the industry that Taemin had been seeing someone since before enlisting in the army. Even eagle-eyed fans knew that the very song he was singing was on ode to someone he was seeing. If anything, Taemin was no stranger to releasing music that felt sinful but with such an angelic voice, it offered that duality that piqued the interest of fans.

Such a daring mixture to play Strings after Heaven too. It made you laugh how bold Taemin has been and it's something you needed him to let loose out on you. You wandered out of the green room so you could wander towards the side of the stage, wondering if you can take a peek through the equipment. Staff were running back and forth, making sure the the lighting underneath the tilted stage were still responding when the lights needed to be changed,

Taemin was not even halfway through his set list and he was already annoying you and you had to sit there and witness this man, not only ruin your life but as well as thousands of Shawols' lives too, purely by existing. You try not to even think about the stunt he pulled with Criminal. So early onto the concert too. That's right honey, destroy all our fucking underwear why don't you. Groaning, you ask the stage manager if you could borrow some items that could make you pass as stage staff so you could walk around top up Taemin's water bottle collection.

You were surprised when a stylist noona commented that you could probably fit into Taemin's regular clothes and go out unnoticed if you layer and pad yourself out. While jamming to Taemin singing his pretty little heart out, you rush back to the green room and throwing Taemin's clothes on and layering a thick hoodie on top of it all. His favourite cap laid on the makeup table. If I wear this, would he recognize it's me? You quickly grab the hat and tuck your hair in before the same stylist walked in with a black mask and glasses.

She comments how it might help and shield your face a bit more, understanding how fans might not take a random female stage staff too lightly, but also just in case you might get recognized in the future.

As you walk back to the side stage an ahjussi has prepared a staff lanyard for you and headphones. With this, you truly looked like you have been working as a stage staff the whole time. Euisoo saunters towards you, giving you water bottles to carry outside, commenting to keep your head down and try not to distract Taemin. He warned you knowing fully well, that while you may have no intention or plans or even attempts to distract him, he knows Taemin well enough that the mere sight of you, or your presence amongst the crowd sends the boy on frenzy and ends up distracting himself.

Taemin would finally have a chance to settle, get some water, not wanting to pull away from his adoring fans. He was so grateful for them and you admired how humble he was under the care, love and support Shawols have given him. You make your way out the hidden staff door under the stage so you could hug the walls of the platform, walking to the nearest water station and placing the bottles Euisoo had given to you.

The cold arena felt suddenly warm as Taemin walks towards where you were picking up a water bottle, crouching down. He surely couldn't have noticed you already did he? With your head down, you stand back, stepping beside one of the ground staff who were talking to Taemin through his earpiece. Idle babble of lighting, warning about various pyro and confetti explosions and adjusting sounds were going on. A supposed 15 minute conversation happened in less than a minute in your head, surprised by how efficient Taemin was communicating with the team while his mic was still on, giving hand signals for simple yes and no questions. All the while, he was staring you down every now and then while he conversed with the fans.

Of course he noticed you. He could pick you out from a line-up, while horribly wasted and half blind. Taemin also knew what you were like, how this side of him performing drove you insane. He was so happy to leave you accustomed to his chaotic childlike, puppy behaviour at home, that when he switches during performances or in bed, it felt like a bus had crashed into you from how sudden and unexpected it is.

You did only have yourself to blame, afterall you were the one with the pitiful request to let Taemin spare you from his sinful advances on a very regular and almost too frequent basis. As much as you adored the side of Taemin that you see in stage, with you, it felt like he had set the dial was at 100. Taemin was rough for sure, his dominant streak was what got you hooked and dear gods he was good at it too.

How on one occasion during his trip back home from the military, for a family dinner, Taemin had used the small kitchen to his advantage, brushing his hips against yours with a slight buck, whenever he needed something from the cupboard in front of you. How during a photo-op encouraged by his mom, caused him to delicately trail his fingers up and down your spine, which he knew sent you dizzy and breathless. Yes that is what Taemin loved to do to you, to tease you in public. While he may have enough self composure to not go wild, you however could not and by the wee hours of the night, you are begging, pleading and if it was in an empty house, probably screaming Taemin's praises.

But after one too many arguments, accusing Taemin that he only wanted you for your body, the quality of sex didn't necessarily die down, but the significant decrease meant that Taemin was more susceptible to being more casual, more tender and loving. It's no surprise to anyone, but Taemin was a cheesy romantic. He was the type to scatter rose petals in the bath tub when you had a long day. He was the type to quietly harass Kai, Jimin and Ravi to go to a spontaneous location he had picked mere minutes ago so he could take you there and by the time you two have arrived, Taemin's friends would be panting, breathless after quickly decorating a very elaborate and stocked picnic set-up.

At it's very core, it was all romantic and yes Taemin had no qualms in ravaging you in public, but nowadays it felt like Taemin no longer fucking you but made love to you instead, which was completely two separate things for you. You loved getting fucked by your boyfriend but you treasured being made love to even more.. It was heated and passionate without the frills and it was just the two of you with Taemin coveting your body like the goddess he deemed you to be. But you weren't an idiot or insensitive either, deep down more than ever you knew, Taemin craved that extra form of control, to have you be a broken mess under him, to have you be at every beck and call to his commands, not because you were scared but because you did enjoy it as much as he did.

Gods, how long have you been staring at him from the bottom of the stage? You were so lost in your thoughts that you had been functioning on auto-pilot for the last few minutes and if it weren't for the explosion during Danger, nothing would have snapped you out of it. From the corners of your eyes. you saw Euisoo gesture for you to rush towards him to the staff door. The manager, mentions something about outfit change and having Taemin upside down again and how your boyfriend might appreciate a comforting face for support.

"Wah, Lee Taemin, you were so cool out the there!", you exclaimed as you walk back into the green room.

There he was, your own personal Adonis, shirtless once more, holding his next outfit in his hands. Shocked that he wasn't dreaming that you were indeed wearing his clothes as you plop his hoodie on a sofa. "Were?" he cocked his brow at your statement.

"Are. Still are" you corrected yourself at his behest, stepping towards him as the stylists carefully take the mic pack away from his trousers, setting it aside. While yes it is their job to get the idol all dressed up and ready, you really did not need to see them get handsy on your man, despite them having literally the most purest of intentions. "Don't worry eonnies, I can dress him from here", you stated out loud, casting your eyes at the women as they remained while Taemin walked towards the changing screen to change in private, had they stayed in the room.

At your words, Taemin cracked a grin, looking back behind him. Is his girlfriend having a stand-off with his stylist noonas? The air was thick with tension and you couldn't have been anymore obvious that you wanted them out of the room. He offers a nod to one of the older stylists that it was okay. It wasn't your first rodeo in getting him ready. For the better part of 'Hard' promotions, Taemin had you chasing after him because he refuses to get his hair and makeup done properly after eating and mainly because he got distracted annoying Key about their 'couple bags'.

As soon as the doors closed and that you two were finally alone, Taemin, resumed getting undressed, hastily putting on the red outfit left behind consisting of some baggy pants and a very convoluted styled sweatshirt with dangling pieces of fabric and an overskirt to wear over his pants. Meanwhile, you had approached him with a puff sponge in one hand, already coated in product as you dab at his face gently, working the product in and trying to apply it evenly, lifting his chin so you could even out his jawline. Your fingers playful trickle down the side of his neck before wrapping them around the base, looking up at him with desires that could burn this room right now.

Taemin quickly grabbed your wrist, pulling them away from his neck, still holding on with a firm grip, his head lowered, just so his lips were mere millimetres away from each other. Before he could lean in to kiss you, your head darted back, avoiding his advances. You stumble backwards to walk towards the vanity. With a slight bend of your back and over the table, you dropped the sponge and picked up a lip tint this time, carefully applying it to yourself with your fingers without contaminating the applicator.

You watched through the mirror as your partner's eyes had darkened, watching you bent over any surface, watching your finger carefully swipe against your plush bottom lip before biting them, as your siren eyes lure him even so slightly. You played coy as you rested both of your hands on the desk to keep yourself up while jutting out your backside for Taemin's viewing pleasure. Your hands carelessly tousled through your hair before hiding a devilish grin behind them as they cascade to frame your face.

How is it, not a word has been uttered between the two of you and yet so much was said. You were trying to play with fire and Taemin was not pleased by your actions. He lets out a little cough to break the silence, making his way towards you. One hand grip at the backrest of a chair that was standing beside you, he carefully lifts to tilt it forward an inch before slamming the back legs down to catch your attention, almost making your jump in your spot.

Your body effortlessly sway and sit down on the seat Taemin had moved, your eyes were more alert, constantly staring at the dark haired boy through the mirror. His tongue clicks, before standing right behind you, his eye were barely peeking through his fringes. You didn't like it when you couldn't see his eyes. Usually they were the first giveaway of what emotions he was feeling at a given moment. "Hands clasped behind the chair", he orders.

You struggle at his words, they sounded a bit darker and lustful. "We don't have much time, amore",

With a nod, your hands finds themselves clasped together, your eyes never leaving the sight of him. You wanted to take it all in, you wanted to see the switch, the dial up past 100. Taemin's hands rest on your shoulders, lightly massaging them as they make they way towards the nape of you neck. Taemin quickly rustled through his pockets taking out a lengthy red fabric, arranging it accordingly before wrapping it around your eyes, doing a loose knot behind your head.

It wasn't long before his fingers thread through your hair, clasping a fistful and pulling your head back. You normally would have let out a pained mewled but Taemin didn't give you a chance as his lips crashed down onto yours, feverishly kissing you while his spare hand roams your chest, carelessly grabbing at your breast, trying to push his digits past the bounds of your bra so he could pinch your nipple through your shirt.

His touch almost scalds you as quivers and squirm in his hands. God you craved his touch so much, you desperately sought out for his fiery skin against yours. You can already imagine how it would feel so nice to feel how soft his skin is, how it is hot to touch, how it smoothly glides against your own, every cell and fibre getting electrocuted at the intensity of it all. Damn clothes. Damn fucking clothes. You mewled more desperately into his kiss, silently pleading more.

As much as Taemin wanted to tease you, he couldn't resist. You could feel the back of your head hit what you assumed is his abdomen. His fistful grip never left your head, occasionally tugging at it, but not his other hand found your knee and with a swipe up towards your heated core, your legs had unconsciously spread open for him, his fingers trailing circles around your thighs. You found it hard to keep the grip on your own hand as you desperately wanted to touch him as well, to guide his hands where it mattered, but if you disobeyed him, he might not even touch you tonight.

The man's hands fumbled against his jeans which you were wearing and until there was enough give, he snaked his hand through the crotch area and began teasing your heated mound through the fabric of your underwear, eliciting a very audible gasp out of you. His lips were suddenly close to your ear, with heavy breathing. "Don't make a sound mi amore, they will hear how slutty you get", he teased.

You bit your lips trying to contain your voice, but it didn't help that Taemin was talented in finding your bundle of nerves, his finger pressing on it rhythmically and circling it around that cased your body to lean forward in pain. Taemin continued his pace before a teasing finger had pressed your underwear a little bit into you.

The sudden intrusion had cause your legs to almost snap shut, trapping Taemin's hands in between your thighs and it weren't for his growl, you would have followed through, but you focused so hard in keeping your legs spread, your thighs slightly convulsing after straining to stay open. Taemin rewarded your efforts by delicately manoeuvring his fingers to set aside your underwear and bury two fingers immediately into you, causing your body to lean forward even more, your lips spread almost silently screaming.

Taemin watched through the mirror as your body jolts here and there as his fingers relentlessly pumps into you, groaning at how your walls clenched around his digits, the only noise filling the room were subdued panting and squelching noises. "Don't you look pretty like this, mi amore", he asks pulling your head up by your hair.

What a stupid question. You were blindfolded, but you knew what he meant. He loved how easy it was for you to fantasize about what was happening to your whenever you were blindfold. As if you seeing yourself come undone by Taemin, helpless and needy, made you so much more wetter. "Amore..", you whimpered. "Please..."

Taemin let's out a sinister chuckle before whispering, "No". With his words, he pulled his fingers out quickly out of you and quickly grabbed the blindfold off you before rushing towards the door. You were so lost in the moment, you had not even realized there had been knocking voices for Taemin to get on the stage to get strapped in for the rotating platform.

Your look at yourself through the mirror wondering how the ever loving fuck did you look so dishevelled. A few baby coughs left your chest as you recollect yourself before standing up, finding it hard as a noticeable pressure has built up between your legs. Fucking Taemin, you are a dick, you thought to yourself before standing up to walk out of the room to see Taemin, already harnessed on and about to flipped for his entrance to 'Door'

As the concert continued, you stayed in the side-lines and watched Taemin perform, cheering quietly from where you were as to not disturb the staff who you already have probably annoyed tonight.

When it was time for another outfit change, Taemin hurried towards the sides, calling your name out repeatedly. The man stated out loud that you would be helping him get dressed again which caused the stylists to back down and giggle as his words caused an annoyed scowl plastered all over your face. His hands have a death grip around your wrists once more, rushing towards the room and giving the door a little slam. "Tae, you need to chill, people will definitely think we are about to fuck", you sighed as you stumble into the dimmed room.

"Fuck them" Taemin lets out a growl, a growl you know to well as his 'I'm horny and I'm angry growl'.

Before you could utter another word, Taemin grabs you by the shoulders, pushing you towards the makeup table, his hand roaming your sides and back as he plants a doozy of a kiss, forcing your lips apart with his tongue. It was like a familiar dance that you have found yourself in. He pushes you onto any surface and your automatic instinct is to sit on it, parting your legs to give room for Taemin to between them, while your arms are hooked on his shoulder, pulling him more into the kiss.

"Mmf--What. Am. I. Going. To. Do. With. You" Taemin groans, enunciating every word with a kiss, starting from your lips that trailed to your jaws then neck.

"Anything please. Everything." the words fell like a lump of nonsense and mumbles, but you were too focused on the fact that Taemin had nipped slightly on your neck.

Your pleading voice arouses him further, his hand snake up your body, tugging harshly onto the shirt you were wearing before lifting them up. You could see his eyes were filled with hunger seeing your breasts practically pooling out of your bra.

His lips began to pepper kisses along your chest before latching onto one of the mounds, sucking and biting on it, while his hands playfully massage them, flicking and pinching your nipples occasionally. "Tae wait.. if you keep doing that.. I can't help being loud" you gasped.

"Well then amore, hopefully you can control yourself" he winks up at you before sliding downwards kissing your stomach and placing tepid kisses on your hips.

His trip back up to kiss your lips was nothing short of sweet as he find the familiarity of stripping his jeans off you, picking up your hips so he could also include your underwear in the mix. The moment he heard the thud of the clothing hit the floor, Taemin spreads your legs once more and knelt in front of you with that darn devilish grin of his.

He makes the gesture of shh, placing a finger on his lips before using the same finger and slowly enter your core, causing you to whimper. Taemin chuckles to himself, knowing fully well that you were too bothered and sensitive to have the capacity of being silent. He pumps the lone finger, his head tilting from side to side so he could observe your face and body.

Your hips were bucking like you needed more, a small movement but it encouraged Taemin to add a second finger in, fully in motion of thrusting inside of you, twisting and spreading you to the best of his abilities. Once his fingers hook at a certain spot, he watches your head throw itself back, letting out a loud cough to cover your whimper.

You were seeing stars and your breathing had become so audible, you were convinced floor staff had heard you. You try to look down at your boyfriend pump his fingers into you unforgivingly but seeing the sight of him part his lips and envelop your clit was a sight to behold indeed.

Such sheepish licks, caused a shockwave through your body and all you could think of was trapping Taemin's head in your thighs as you grab his hair, trying to keep him down there until he finished you off.

You could feel the peak approaching as Taemin made good work of his mouth and fingers, making sure he savoured the taste of you while he was down there. But truly nothing could prepare you for Taemin immediately pulling away when you stated how close you were to bliss. Your body barely knew how to react as you let out a little cry, the sudden missing feeling of Taemin on you, made you tremble.

"Please Amore... that was mean.. " you panted, your vision settling to see he was in the midst of changing into the final lilac suit.

"Mean? What's mean is you not using your pretty little mouth"

You look up to see that Taemin had left the blazer and trousers unbuttoned and through his black boxers, perfectly outlined his erection. His body slumped back onto the sofa in the room, beckoning you to move towards him. He chuckles darkly as he watches you naked from the waist down and your shirt rolled upwards, resting on the slope of your breasts. "Here, just in case", he laughs once more, chucking a blanket scarf your direction.

You catch the item, roughly wrapping it around your waist , enough to cover your privates but thin enough to know you were bare under it. In a fluid motion, you crouch down to crawl towards Taemin, settling yourself between his legs. Your hands roam his thighs before meeting at the band of his boxers, sheepishly tugging it down until his dick had popped out, surprising you. "May I taste it... Sir?" your eyes lift ever so slightly.

As if it wasn't obvious from Taemin's hitched breath and the way his cock twitched, hearing you mewl your last word sent chills through his body. The last time you had called him that was the last time he acted as a dominant and where you finally argued with him about feeling like a sex toy rather than his girlfriend in bed. He doesn't recall being disrespectful but is fully aware that he gets in the zone too hard and would punish you equally as his previous bratty submissive partners.

Taemin carefully reaches forward, brushing your hair and holding it to a ponytail with a firm grip. His other hand cups your cheeks, his thumb tenderly brushes against your lips before using his hold on your hair to guide you closer to his aching member.

Without wasting time, your tongue darts out to lick from base to tip before opening your mouth to take him in. "F..fuck y/n"

You giggle despite having your mouth filled as you proceed to bob your head up and down, twirling your tongue and moaning. The vibrations and sensations overwhelm Taemin as his hips jerk upwards, causing your to gag a little. While it didn't deter you from continuing on, it was enough of a sign for him to use your mouth as he pleases.

Taemin roughens his grip on your hair, pushing you down as his hips thrust up. God he missed this. He missed fucking your face, hearing your stubborn coughs as you allow him to abuse your throat like this. He couldn't help notice how gorgeous you were like this. His obedient girl. Something primal triggered within him as he watches you remain strong willed to not pull away, noticing how strings of saliva had began dripping from the corners off your mouth. How he was fucking your mouth had become so messy with slight tears smudging your own makeup and how the slightest hint of your lipstick has tinted the base of his cock. Taemin lets out as hiss as you fully take him in with a pause letting the tip of his member rest at the back of your mouth.

Just because he denied you your orgasm, doesn't mean he doesn't get to finish. He internally swears he will make it worth it. He tries to shift in his seat, so he could lean forward to give a gratuitous slap on your ass as he keeps your head down on him. "Drink me up Amore.. " he grunts every word with a thrust, picking up the pace.

It didn't take long before he mewls your name, coughing and using whatever articles of clothing to dampen the sound escaping his lips. You could feel string after string as Taemin fills up your mouth with his cum. You lap it all up, making sure not one drop is wasted as you lean back to an upright position sitting on your knees.

Taemin lets out a few more coughs, trying to collect himself, panting heavily as he smirks at you. You daintily wipe the corners of your mouth with your finger and offer him a little smile. "I think the fans have finished singing" you note.

Right on queue, the knock finally at the door came, asking Taemin to come out quickly. "I promise to make it up to you Amore" he whispers, his hands cupping your face to place a kiss on your forehead before standing up to finish getting dressed and heading out.

You sat alone in that room, thinking to yourself how you couldn't wait for him to fulfil his promise. You desperately craved his primal side now.

As if the stylists knew something funky went on in the room, they knock, just to make sure, that you were okay for them to come in to tidy up. You cough and hurriedly scoot to where Taemin had stripped you, grabbing your underwear and rushing towards the changing screen, calling them in.

As soon as you finally had calmed down and made yourself modest, you rushed out back to the side stage, making sure you were there for Taemin as he wraps up his final set. You were in such awe and couldn't wait to drown him in affection and congratulatory praises, but your cheeks were downright flushed thinking about the prospects of what happens next.

You were too lost in your own dirty fantasies that you had not noticed Key and Minho standing in front of you, waving and trying to pull you out of your daydreams. "Yah, Lee Taemin, I think y/n is no longer with us" Key calls out to your boyfriend who had just exited the main stage and rushing to hug Minho and Key.

"H-huh?" you mumbled, finally snapping out of your thoughts to see the three Shinee members standing in front of you, smiling however Taemin's was coated with wickedness.

"Wow. You really love him so much that you are in awe huh" Key jokingly scoffs at your direction.

"I couldn't be more proud of him" you giggled, stepping forward to embrace Taemin and peck his lips. "By the way, I didn't put my underwear back on, but the eonnies left you a spare change of clothes" you whispered into his ear.

Taemin chuckles as he pulls away, pardoning himself so he could get changed. Conversations happened here and there and instead of celebrating immediately with drinks and food close by, Taemin had suggested that he wanted to go home first to let his mom know that he was planning on drinking and might be home late and need her to take care of the cats.

This was obviously a lie, kind of. His mom would need to take care of the cats however, due to Taemin's busy schedule, the cats were at her place instead for the weekend.

As the pair of you began to part ways from everyone after an agonizingly painful debate on where to eat, and one heated argument with Euisoo later, Taemin managed to convince his manager that he would like the chance to be able to drive his his girlfriend to the next location and be able to bond with here in peace.

What a fool they were for thinking how cute that sounded because as far as you were concerned, you and Taemin never really made it further out of the carpark.

After waving everyone off, Taemin had hurriedly thrown you into the backseat of his car, jumping in with you with a hungry kiss. "Mmmf, Taemin.. you sure?? Here?" you gasped in between his barrage of kisses.

"Taemin? What happened to Sir" his tone had shifted once more. "Beside I thought you might appreciate the intimacy of a tight enclosed space. Now what was that again about not having your underwear on"

You giggled as you lean against the passenger door, raising your hips so you could pull out said article of clothing from the back pocket.

"How dirty of you Amore, soiling my clothes like this" Taemin whispers, his hands falling familiar to unbuttoning the jeans once more and tugging at them so they just gathered around your knees.

Taemin pulls you off your position and despite the tight area, he manoeuvred you with ease, placing you in front of him bent over, with your hands in the footwell to keep yourself up and your ass in perfect view from his face.

He daringly bites the plump flesh of your cheeks causing you to wince, with his hands once more, teasing your core. Flick. "Amore, listen to me well.." Flick. "Sir desperately wants to fuck you senseless" Flick. "I want this car to shake and be filled with your screams. Okay?" his words were concise but struggled here and there.

He gave a good smack on your ass once more, enough that it stung but that was a sign to get it moving. He had quickly discarded his trousers and boxers, lost in the void of the front seats. Your body shuffled once more to allow yourself and Taemin to be in position where you could sit on his lap, there was not much headroom, but you found yourself leaning back into him, back flushed against his chest

You spat on your hand enough that when you reach down to hold Taemin's member, it was enough lubrication the guide the tip at your entrance, hesitating for a bit.

Taemin however could not wait as he thrusts up, intruding and spreading your open earning a pleased groan out of you. Finally all the tension in your body caved into the pleasure of having Taemin's cock in you. You absorbed every movement as he makes the best effort of plunging in and out of you in a steady rhythm making your bounce on his lap. "Nngh.. sir.. please" you whimpered.

"Please what?"

"More please.."

Taemin secured his arms around your torso, and slightly sinking into the seat so he had the positional advantage to drive himself up in you in a rapid pace. Your grip shifted to hold onto the backrest of the front seats almost holding yourself in place because if Taemin thrusted any harder and you would be either through the roof of the car or half of your body would be over the centre console.

It didn't matter that you were uncomfortable as the euphoric feeling zaps every nerve in your system, overwhelmed by how rough and aggressive Taemin was getting with his pounding. Delicate fingers sneak under your shirt and what could only be described as the man handling of your breasts.

Taemin's name would be the only word left in your brain as he softly whispers sweet nothings into your ear. His hot breath felt like fire against your skin and hearing his shaky breaths and how he moans your name, it sent you wild. "y/n.. y/n.. y/n.. god you. drive. me. insane" he punctuates his words with long and deep thrusts.

Those thrusts came with a price as it it had tickled just the right spots in you evoking a squeal and your walls clenching down on him. You couldn't tell if it was dark out or had your eyes been squeezed shut and you were beginning to see stars. "Taemin .. I mean.. sir.. please fill me up" you moaned, turning your head to look back at him.

He chuckles, pushing your ass up and off it, giving it a quick slap and kiss. "Turn around, I want to look into your eyes as I flood you y/n".

Obedient as you were, it took a few attempts to get to a comfortable position in the back seat as you straddled Taemin, drinking up the sight of how sweaty he had gotten, how his eyes were half lidded shut, equally lost in his arousal. Unconsciously, you began to grind on his shaft, teasing the both of you as his tip poked at your entrance every now and then.

The hot air surrounded the two of you as streams of panting came from both of you. For a small moment, you manage to catch Taemin's eye, filled love and desire. He offers you a soft smile, hand placed on your cheeks. Without breaking eye contact, his spare hand reaches down so he could align himself so in your next grind, he would finally fill you up again, letting out a shudder. Your walls were gripping around him tight and he knew fully well, you two wouldn't last at this rate.

Taemin leans forward to nibble at your collarbone, slapping your ass once more to get you moving as you now bounce up and down, feeling more intense by the minute. He would make you lose your mind even further as me meets your bounce with the thrust, essentially slamming his self into you. His name fell from your lips like a trance, singing his praises and how you craved him.

Your body could barely hold itself together as your body collapses backwards ignoring the fact that your balance was supported by the front two seats, your shoulder resting on either side. Taemin watch your body arches, eyes ogling as your breasts flail with every buck of his hips. His hands get to work. One hand reaches up at your neck, wrapping his fingers around them and applying pressure while the other hand palms at your lower abdomen, sinking lower until his thumb could reach to stimulate your clit once more.

Taemin was more that happy to comply that he would make it up to you. You were a mewling and moaning mess under his control and he could see that you were on the brink of probably causing a scene as your volume was probably leaking out of the car. "Amore.. wait... wait..", you could barely speak out as a scream teared through your throat as you finally reach your release.

Your whole body contorts and honestly, you would have screamed bloody murder if it weren't for the fact Taemin's hands was on your throat and essentially holding you down. Seeing the sight before him unravel, it didn't take long for Taemin to follow suit, releasing his own into you.

There was moment of silence before you felt Taemin's arms snake around you, pulling you back to him. "I think... we should bail on dinner" he breaths out against your skin making you mewl.

"Amore.. we can't keep disappearing on group dinners"

"Fine... but when we get home we need to discuss some safe words before I break you"

#taemin x reader #taemin fanfic #taemin smut #taemin scenario #taemin x female reader #shinee smut #lee taemin smut

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winterwandersland · 2 months ago

Text

Echoes of Mercy (18+)

Chapter Three: Boot Camp

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Black!Fem!Reader Word Count: 4.6k Before the plane crash, you were on a journey to become a Navy Seal. All Parts: Here

The new recruits gradually filled the bus with every passing minute. Each of them looked like little kids excited that they were on a field trip, being in a new environment and taking everything in.

Their eyes were as bright as their smiles, astounding given the sun was barely peeking in the sky, the clouds still creating an overcast, the bus lights creating the only source of light. Everyone conversed like friends, having funny conversations like they were back in high school.

Then there was you.

Sitting in the back of the bus, listening to your music for the last time before your phone and headphones were confiscated. It drowned out the chatter of the rambunctious and excited men and the roaring of the bus engine that you swore was going to break down at any moment.

This should be a fun bus ride.

Your body moved with each bump and pothole of the midwestern streets, you trying to keep all of your weight on the back of your seat, your head hitting the leathered cushion more times than you can count. There’s no way you’d walk off the bus without whiplash.

As your music played, the vibrations of the bus ran through the soles of your shoes, making your legs tingle as you tapped your fingers and swayed to the beat of the music. It felt a little early for the bus to be filled with the smell of must, but it wasn’t nearly as strong as what you would smell after a long day of training in the army. That was a smell that made you want to break your nose and damage your olfactory receptors.

No one spoke to you and if they did, it was just them questioning if you realized where the bus was going and if you meant to go somewhere else, which didn’t make sense considering you were just the only woman on the bus, not in the Navy program.

It didn’t phase you. This is what you prepared yourself for, but hearing the comments out loud hurt more than when you just made them up in your head.

“Hey, Lil Bit!”

Your musical moments of peace were ruined by a tap on your shoe that dangled in the aisle since your legs were crossed. You looked up, your headphones still on, to find a man with a wide grin, his eyes full of curiosity, and a bad buzzcut that you prayed would grow out during his training days for his sake. You didn’t care what the man had to say, but you moved your headphones slightly off of your ear as a courtesy.

“You know where we’re going, right?” he asked with a light and humorous tone, like he was waiting to tell you a joke. He was genuine. Like he really expected you to be so dumb and have accidentally wandered into the military bus taking you to the Navy boot camp while trying to get home.

So, you played along.

You didn’t answer right away. You tilted your head, pretending that you hadn’t heard the question over the blaring of your music. When he repeated the question, you just couldn’t resist.

This should be fun.

“Just a few stops until I get home,” you simply said. The shock in his eyes was priceless. His smile faltered and his eyes turned soft, his brows furrowing.

He really believed you.

“Oh, no, miss. This is the bus to go to- never mind,” he said before yelling, “Stop the bus! This woman’s on the wrong bus! She’s trying to go home!”

You chuckled under your breath, but when he turned back to you, you returned to your concerned, innocent-like face. The man couldn’t be heard over the chattering of all the men, so the bus never came to a stop. Thankfully, it was only another ten minutes until you all came to a stop.

Crazy to believe you were already where you dreamed of being your whole life. But you certainly aren’t smiling because you’re at a military boot camp. You’re smiling because you can finally get pointed in the right direction to go home.

The concerned man walked with you off the bus and immediately took you to the instructor: a woman at least 5'9, much taller than you were.

Her name tag read: Diyoza.

“She accidentally got on the wrong bus,” he urged, yelling and pushing past many of the recruits that were making their way towards the woman. Your heart fluttered as you were face-to-face with the woman you had looked up to for so long. The smile on your face was hard to cover, so you played it off as being appreciative of the man helping you. Diyoza looked at you, looked at the man, then scoffed.

“What’s your name, recruit?” she asked the man. He told her and she checked him off the list before turning to you and asking, “And yours?”

“No, she wouldn’t be on there. She’s trying to get-,” the man with the bad haircut started before being cut off by who you would assume will be your boot camp instructor. “I’m not talking to you!” Diyoza snapped at him.

“Your name, recruit!” she said, her voice more stern, sending chills up your spine like you were in trouble.

“Enyo. Enyo Abara,” you answered quickly, your voice shaky from fearing that you had already fucked up your first impression on the one person you always wanted to impress.

“Beginning of the alphabet. First on the list. Should be easy to remember. Go on, now,” she told you, waving you off like you were just another recruit. And to be fair, you were.

You ran off to join the rest of the group. When the man from earlier tried to follow behind, Diyoza stopped him, firmly placing her hand on his chest. She could practically catch his heart the way it was nearly thudding out of his chest.

The recruit stumbled over his words as he tried to process what had just happened. How was your name on the list?

Diyoza was unamused, practically scowling at the foolish boy. “Next time you see a woman on a bus full of men, don’t assume she isn’t where she should be. Because I promise you, if she didn’t want to be there, she wouldn’t be. And this is a Navy boot camp. Meaning everyone wanting to be in the Navy will be here. Not just the wannabe Seals. Now, go run a mile. You can do your administrative tasks afterwards, “ she commanded him.

He took off running in the opposite direction as the rest of the crew, heading towards the track instead of the main building. You snickered to yourself as you followed everyone into the old building to do your first tasks: paperwork. Your favorite.

You liked signing paperwork. It was no different than when you first enrolled in the military. You had spent a few years in the army before you decided to transfer to the Navy.

It wasn’t difficult filling out the paperwork to transfer services. Your commanding officers supported you every step of the way and even told you they better see you on billboards before back in their field.

The part you worried about the most was the hair inspection. While all the men were getting their heads shaved, you were in the mirror trying to figure out what to do with yours. Should you cut it? You’ve had shorter hair before, but you worked so hard to get it to the length it was now. That would be years of hard work gone.

It’s not like the army didn’t have hair protocols, but they were a little more lenient. Your buns may not have been as laid as you wanted them to be, but they made do. Here, that wouldn’t slide. You had to have the slick bun like you imagined in your head and that would take more effort than basic imagination.

As you gaze at your reflection in the mirror, pondering different hairstyles in hopes of passing inspection, you hear footsteps approaching from behind. You snapped your neck to see who it was, but despite what you thought were quick reflexes, they were already by your side.

It was Diyoza.

“Trying to avoid cutting your hair?” she asked. You looked at her confused, not expecting this to be your first actual conversation. Her tone was much different than the one she had used earlier when you first got off of the bus.

“Yea. Don’t really know what to do with it,” you admitted. You had long, luscious coils that you loved and wanted to keep. It was hard enough maintaining them in the army. This would be a whole different beast to tackle, especially considering your new growth.

“Put it in a low bun as tight as you can. If this hat can fit, you’re good,” she advised, while giving you a Navy associated hat. You smiled at her, your form of a thank you. She turned to leave, but you heard that sharp cutting-edge tone she used earlier from behind you as she exited. “Also, if you play ditzy, they’ll believe ditzy. Take that as you will,” she said before closing the bathroom door behind her.

She knew what you did, and you didn’t know whether to feel embarrassed or appreciated. But at least thee Charmaine Diyoza noticed you. One point to the scoreboard.

Your arms began to hurt from pulling the scrunchies taut and brushing your hair down. And yet, your bun still wasn’t up to code. You’ll have to cut it.

It’s fine.

You’ve been contemplating going shorter anyways. It’ll save you more time in the morning.

Hopefully.

Diyoza came back into the bathroom ten minutes later, still without a proper introduction even though you already knew who she was. “You figure anything out?” she asked.

You shook your head, a defeated look on your face. You took the scrunchie out of your hair down, releasing the tension on your scalp and your full head of hair falling down your back.

She had a devilish smile on her face as she held up a pair of scissors and approached you with ease. When you saw your hair in between the blade of the scissors, you flinched, pulling your head back and putting distance from the scissors and you, afraid she would start snipping and never stop.

“Your hair is beautiful,” she complimented. “Don’t worry. I think I know how to fix this.”

Her optimistic tone was a welcome change from the one in your head delivering the news about your impending baldness. Although, ‘I think’ didn’t help to ease any of your frustrations and fears.

She takes your hair in sections, carefully snipping each from the ends, her tongue slightly out as she concentrates. You closed your eyes, trying to embrace the image of your naked head in your mind.

Because that’s surely what she's doing.

Giving you a small afro or cutting your hair to a length you hadn’t seen it in since you were a child.

The weight of your hair was heavy, each clump falling on you as it left your head. Your head felt lighter which surely meant you had more hair on your shoulders, lap, and torso than on your scalp.

“Done,” she said, backing away as she admired her work.

When you opened your eyes, you and the floor were covered in hair, its white color now hidden by the dark brown of your hair.

The mirror was your biggest fear. Your biggest enemy.

You analyzed everything in the room before you got a good look at yourself.

And damn did you look good.

You wouldn’t have thought you’d come to boot camp and somehow turn out looking better. That was the opposite of what was supposed to happen. You always heard “the military is not a fashion show”, but you begged to differ at the moment.

There was more volume in your hair and the sections grew gradually longer.

“Layers,” Diyoza said as you admired your new look. “Easier to maintain your hair without having to go bald. Try to put it into a bun, now.” she advised, placing the scissors onto the sink in front of you.

You didn’t add anymore gel and just used what was already in your hair because you were sure to sweat it out later. To your surprise, it was ten times easier to get your bun nice and slick. Your curls even looked better. Some of them naturally fell out of your bun, but they were looped around enough to not cause any trouble.

You had always thought of getting layers in your hair, but you never got around to it–also because you were slightly scared but you wouldn’t admit that. But once you had them, you realized you should’ve done this years ago.

“It looks good. If you had one of the other‌ officers do it, it’d look like a two-year-old cut it,” she joked, earning her a small chuckle from you. “Charmaine Diyoza,” she introduced, holding her hand out for a handshake.

You tried hard not to fangirl, but you couldn’t help yourself. You shook her hand, your eyes nearly bulging out of your head. “Enyo Abara,” you introduced, your smile never leaving your face.

“I know,” she responded.

“I’m honored to work with you. I’ve heard so many great things about you,” you geeked.

She smiled, but quickly returned to her face of commandment. “I could say the same about you. Your former officers had a lot to say about you.”

“Really?” you asked, practically kicking your feet like a child. Your heart was beating so fast and so much blood rushed to your head you thought you may pass out.

“Yes. Like you are the most difficult soldier they have ever had,” she said.

Your smile immediately dropped and you were no longer bouncing up and down like you were before. You could hear the small sigh in her tone before she spoke again, like she recognized that she should become more soft with her tone.

“But, you are also the best soldier they’ve ever had and they wish you the best of luck during your training, though they don’t believe you’ll need it,” she finished.

A faint smile spread on your face, though you weren’t sure if she believed what she said or said it because she felt bad for killing your mood.

Did she believe you were as good as they say? Did she think you could amount to at least a sliver of what she is? Being face to face with the only woman to ever become a SEAL, you started to doubt yourself.

You weren’t of the same stature and you weren’t built the same. You were shorter. Your muscle to fat ratio was nearly equal, your muscle percentage being slightly more. But you were still fast. Quick on your feet. You may not be as thin as Diyoza, but your athletic ability was still there.

When Diyoza left, you stared at your reflection for a few moments. Usually, you never doubt yourself. You always knew you were capable. But being face to face with someone who made history was scary.

What if you weren’t as capable as you thought you were.

What if your delusions ran you too far?

What if this was one thing you simply could not do?

But when you looked at yourself in the mirror, you saw a future SEAL. Someone who could make history again. You had to do it. You had to make sure your name was remembered.

Your name will be remembered. It had to be.

It was almost time for physical training. You all had gotten your measurements, your uniforms, and had been separated to your barracks. Thankfully for you, other buses had rolled in, meaning you were no longer the only woman in your barracks. But, that wouldn’t matter for long as the training was co-ed.

Before that all started, Diyoza had an announcement:

“Hello, my overzealous and naive recruits. As you may or may not know, my name is Charmaine Diyoza,” she began.

Everyone quieted to hear her speak. You would have thought that the president had walked on stage with the amount of attentiveness that was given. To be fair, Diyoza was quite famous. It was like having your favorite celebrity stand right in front of your eyes.

Everyone was giving her and the other instructors behind her their full attention. Some of them pretended to be just as stoic as the men who stood behind Diyoza and others of them wearing the look of fear on their faces. You could practically smell every drop of sweat that fell down their temples. The nervous recruits fidgeted around, but tried to look nonchalant about it, picking at their nails with their hands behind their backs.

Each instructor eyed every recruit like they already knew who would succeed and who wouldn’t. You dreaded what they may have thought when they looked at you, if they could even see you between all of these men that towered over you, but you tried not to let that cloud what you already knew: you were going to make it through boot camp.

You were going to make it through BUDs training.

You were going to pass all of your qualifications.

You were going to become a SEAL, no matter what.

You had a dream and you were going to make it come true.

While Diyoza spoke, it was like her words sounded distant. Whether it was because of how far back you were or because you felt like everything was a dream, you didn’t know. You moved through the crowd of men, pushing past them with gentle “excuse me”’s every time you had to make physical contact with one of them or they failed to make room for you to move.

The constant movement through the crowd drew the attention of the instructors that stood at attention behind Diyoza. You could hear the beginnings of the murmuring with each person you pushed past, like each of them thought that you had accidentally come from the wrong group.

“What’s all that movement in the crowd back there?” you heard a deep, British voice ask. You couldn’t quite see who said it, but you kept moving, not realizing that they were talking about you. You thought you were being more subtle than you were.

You made your way to the front where the crowd of recruits seemed quiet. A little too quiet. You looked up at Diyoza, waiting for her to speak again, but you didn’t notice every recruit and instructor was looking at you.

“No way.”

“Is she in the right group?”

“She might be lost.”

“Maybe she got confused.”

You heard the constant undermining comments from the crowd behind you. The snickering. The judging. You heard all of it. Yet, you were in the front, watching Diyoza, waiting for the end of her announcement and ready to show them that you aren’t lost, confused, or in the wrong group.

You were in just the right place.

The instructors behind Diyoza whispered to each other. You expected her to say something, but instead, she continued:

“Are you all done?”

The crowd went quiet, along with the instructors behind her. You looked at her attentively, ignoring any lingering stares and murmurs. The soldiers that stood behind her were apparently also going to be your instructors because of how many of you there were. Diyoza explained how she couldn’t and wouldn’t manage all of you on her own. It would be a waste of time.

They were all there to guide you all. Be mentors. They have been through it all, so they would know what was best for you.

You felt a bomb drop on your heart when she announced that she wouldn’t be there for all of your BUDS training. That meant that you wouldn’t get to be with her long. However, she said that she'll be there for those who pass their qualifications. So if you really thought about it, you got at least a year with her.

Because you knew damn well you were going to pass qualifications.

As she completed her speech that was meant to scare everyone off, you took it in, along with the subtle glare that she gave you that said: Prove me right.

Prove to her that you should be there.

Prove to her that you are capable.

Prove to her that you are not just another soldier.

Each of the instructors introduced themselves. There were at least a dozen of them, each from a different specialized unit and others from international elite units. The ones that caught your attention were the ones from the SAS, the British Special Air Service. You always knew them to be some of the best elite forces in the world, if not the best.

They were introduced by their Captain: Captain Price. He stood with his Lieutenant, Ghost, and his two sergeants, Soap and Gaz. While every instructor seemed like a force to be reckoned with, there was something about those four that drew your attention, especially the Lieutenant in the mask. It kind of made you feel like you shouldn’t take them seriously.

Americans never took the British seriously.

But there was no time for that. You were waiting to get placed into a group with one of the instructors so you could get started with your real physical training. They discussed the recruits with each other, each choosing who they wanted to work with. Who seemed to have the most potential based on their recommendations. Who seemed to follow orders the most. Who seemed the most promising. And a long list of other factors that made everyone choose, including how some of you reacted as you were being screamed at by your superiors beforehand.

While they did that, you all ran. And you all ran until you were picked to go with an instructor or two. Before you started, Diyoza called your name, commanding you to give her your water bottle, just like you would at your old base. Your former officers must have told her about that.

Damn them.

The last to pick were the SAS soldiers. Apparently, they had no preference and didn’t care who they had in their group. No matter who you were, you were going to work.

You were the last of a few dozen recruits. While everyone stopped for water, you kept running. Diyoza would call you over every so often to get a drink, making you awkwardly sip your water in front of the very intimidating, but frivolous looking British soldiers.

As you ran back, they continued with their observations.

“What’s her deal?” asked Soap, pointing directly at you while you began another lap around the track.

“First page. First name of the alphabet,” she answered.

Price flipped all the pages of the roster over, finding your name at the very top. “Enyo Abara,” he read.

“Enyo Abara,” Diyoza repeated. “Army transfer. Former cyber operations. Multilingual. Scored a 99 on her ASVAB.”

“A 99? 99th percentile? She doesn’t need to be in the military. She needs to be working with NASA,” Price commented, flipping through the list of the rest of the recruits.

“NASA doesn’t like stubborn, hard headed employees,” Diyoza cut in. “As her former officers put it, she is the sun to your moon. And just like the sun provides light, it can also be a damn pain in the ass.”

“Sounds like that’s right up Ghost’s alley,” Soap jests.

No. It’s not. He hates stubborn recruits. Having to repeat himself just irritated him. At first he had no preference for who he was in charge of. But now he did. He preferred to not have you in his group.

“What’s a kid like that doing in the military,” Price asked, almost immediately feeling like this isn’t the place for you. Stubbornness doesn’t work on the field. To survive you have to cooperate. You have to trust your team. Without that, you’re dead.

Or worse: everyone dies and you don’t.

“According to her interview, she wants to make history. If she’s as good as they say, her stubbornness would have to be tolerated,” Diyoza answered.

She was wary of taking you on, but she always loved a good challenge. Plus, you were the only female on the SEALS track. She knew you needed someone to relate to because it’s what she would’ve wanted. “When she passes-.”

“If she passes,” Soap interrupts.

“When she passes her qualifications, she’ll be the first woman in a decade to become a SEAL. Not to mention, but she’ll be the first black woman to ever become a SEAL. She’s a promising candidate.” Diyoza says, letting them know that she has full faith in you, no matter how much she dreaded having to train you. “Next recruit is-,” she starts, moving on from the discussion of you.

“Woah. Wait. We didn’t decide who’s crew she’s in,” Gaz chimed in. He was tuned in. He may not have spoken much on each recruit, but he processed everything that was said about each one, keeping note of it to see if the file was right or if some superiors had favorites that they gave leniency to.

“We don’t have to. She’s mine. Which means she’s also with Ghost because he’s shadowing me,” Diyoza said, asserting her dominance within the group of men.

“He is?” Soap asked, shocked at the quick decision.

“I am?” Ghost asked, barely knowing what was going on.

He thought he would get a choice like everyone else. But most importantly, he wasn’t into any recruit, and especially not you, for that matter.

You were all just recruits. People whose hearts were bigger than their minds. Most of you wouldn’t make it through BUDS, Basic Underwater Demolition and SEALS training. Whoever did, that’s when he’d care who to choose.

“Yep,” Diyoza said, flipping through the roster, paying no mind to their disgruntled expressions paired with their sighs of irritation. “And her running buddy, Ricky, here,” she said, pointing to the recruit’s picture and name. “Officers said they’re a great pair. Top two performing in their unit. So, we’re taking them,” she commanded, then naming more recruits they were taking and leaving the rest for Price, Soap, and Gaz to decide.

You were relieved when your name was called, along with your friend. Ricky had been with you since you were in the army. He was in your unit. You two were inseparable. He kept you grounded and kept you going. He was the one that convinced you to go the SEALS route when you were doubting yourself. If it wasn’t for him, you’d still be doubting yourself in your army barracks, telling yourself you’d wait until next year when you were ready.

You ran up to the small group of instructors, waiting to see who you were assigned to. To your surprise, Diyoza was your instructor, along with the mysterious SAS soldier in the cloth skull mask, only showing his eyes that could shoot darts through you. You did your best not to pay him much attention, no matter how much he intrigued you, but with his towering figure and enigmatic personality, you couldn’t help but to get in a few glances.

And from there, your boot camp journey began, not knowing that what lay ahead would be everything you never imagined.

I have decided that we will be going on a journey to the past to lead to the present :)

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bits-and-babs · 2 years ago

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𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐂𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐗 — 𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍 ‘𝐒𝐎𝐀𝐏’ 𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐇

↳ summary: "Were you just masturbating?" - Returning from a shower after a gruelling midnight run, you catch Johnny red handed...

↳ pairing: SASRecruit!Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x f!Reader

↳ [1k] content: – Set during SAS Recruitment Training, so younger Soap! Soap caught masturbating, depreciation, vague allusions to a bit of a power play, spitting, handjob. Something light and silly for me to get used to writing for John <3

soap masterlist I| main masterlist |I join taglist

You towel dry your hair roughly with a hand towel, exhaling heavily as you pace down the corridor back to the barracks. A shower had never felt so damn good, the Staff finally releasing you from what could only be described as torture. A run in the middle of the night with a 55lb bergen strapped to your back. Hours of trekking up the mountains in the belting rain.

When you’d finally hobbled back into camp, feet almost numb, you’d noted the clock on the wall reading as 03:00. Needless to say, you could have cried when you entered the shower. In fact, you’d been so relieved by the steaming hot water running over your skin that you stayed behind when Johnny shouted an offer to walk back with you over the stall.

Just five more minutes.

Now you were excited to crawl into bed. The sun was coming up outside, an orange tinge to the sky signalling for the birds to begin their choir. Twisting the door handle to your shared bunk with Johnny, you pause at the resistance that meets you, the door stopping in place despite pushing it forward.

Peering around the door, you note the bundle of khaki fabric strewn haphazardly in the middle of the floor– a standard-issue army t-shirt. One you certainly hadn’t abandoned on the floor when you left for the run.

“Johnny– I’m getting tired of you leaving your shit arou–…”

One quick glance towards Johnny’s bunk has you freezing in place. He’s sat up in bed, the sheet pulled over his body. If it weren’t for the flush on his cheeks, the pinch of his brows and his hands stuffed under the covers, you’d never have figured it out… But–

“Were you just masturbating?” It escapes you before you can swallow the intrusive question, blurted out without thinking. Johnny lets out a painfully awful scoff, rolling his eyes theatrically.

“What’re you talkin’ about?” Johnny speaks, and his voice is strained. His eyebrows pull up when he notes the smirk on your lips, a panicked expression playing on his face. “N-Naw, I wasn’t doin’ anythin’!”

“Mhmm-hm,” you smirk, bending down to grab the t-shirt at your feet. You can feel the Scotsman’s eyes burn a hole into you as you rise, carefully folding his shirt once, twice. Then, approaching the bottom of his bunk, you check the creases; the fabric doubled into a perfect square.

“What’re you doin’, lass?” he questions, watching cautiously as you neatly lay the perfectly folded clothing on the mattress where his feet are. You shrug innocently, smoothing your palm over the material.

“Nothing. Why’re you acting like this? I thought you weren’t up to anything?” You muse, fixing him with a pointed look as you drag your hand over the shape of his shin. Johnny looks like he’s swallowed his tongue, wide-eyed with crimson cheeks.

“N-Nope!” The stutter catches you both off guard, and you can’t help the grin that stretches across your lips. You and Johnny had done thirty-four-hour stints in the mock interrogation, suffered stress positions and headphones playing white noise and babies screaming until your ears buzzed, yet somehow the Scotsman looked far more terrified now.

“Then you won’t mind if I pull back the covers, would you, Johnny?” You murmur, hand creeping further up his body. You pass his knee, fingertips skirting the length of his thigh. In turn, he lets out a shuddering breath, chest lurching with a sudden intake of breath.

“F-Fuck,” he whispers, looking up at you with wide eyes, “Fuck- I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d be back so soon….”

“Don’t stop on my account,” you murmur, maintaining eye contact. His pupils swallow the bright blue of his irises, lips parting when you arch your brow in question. You gonna carry on?

Johnny’s hand moves under the covers, dragging the length of his cock as he groans through gritted teeth. His eyelids flutter, watching you as your hand walks two fingers up the stretch of his chest. He looks so pretty like this, you think, flushed and nervous. Swelling with pride, you note that even the Staff hadn’t been able to make him this flustered.

Riding this high, urged on by your greed, you let go of any inhibition.

“Do you think of me?” You murmur, taking ahold of Johnny’s chin. His eyes nearly pop out of his skull at such an invasive question, his lips pursing when you squeeze his cheeks together.

“Y-Yea,” he admits, his cheeks warming beneath your fingertips. The embarrassment does little to stop him, however, fisting his cock even quicker beneath the bedsheets. “Ssso bonneh, lass-“

Chuckling at how he slurs his words, you pinch his cheeks harder before releasing him. Poor Johnny chokes out a groan, dragging his fist over the length of his cock. You jut out your bottom lip, feigning pity as you glance down at the movement beneath the covers.

“You need help? You seem to be struggling.”

“Hoh, Steamin’ Hell…” Johnny’s eyes roll back into his skull as he chokes on his breath, “Fuck yeah-“

“Yeah?” You muse, tone mocking as you hold your hand before his face, “Help me out then.”

It’s like unlocking a whole different side of him. The usually argumentative, jovial John MacTavish instantly follows your order. He spits into your palm, gazing up at you and murmuring thanks over and over again. He doesn’t even argue when you pull back the duvet, he just groans when the fabric drags over the head of his sensitive cock.

“Mhmm-“ you hum softly, casting your eyes over his throbbing cock as it lays against his abdomen, “You gonna be quiet for me?”

You don’t even give him a moment to answer, taking up his dick and running your slick palm down the length of it. The devastating moan rattles Johnny’s lungs, his back arching from the wall when you brush the pad of your thumb over the weeping head to smear precum over the sensitive tip.

“Yeah,” you smirk, beginning to jerk him off slowly, “That’s what I thought. You always were a gobby one, MacTavish.”

“Hah-… Ah-fuck! I’m sorry-“ he chokes out, jaw slack.

“Yeah, you will be.”

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orangez3st · 4 days ago

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Roomie Advantages

ARC Trooper Fives × F!Platonic!Reader

Summary: You're dead exhausted after a family event. Luckily your roommate Fives is a domestic life kinda guy in training. Rating: Teen and Up - 16+ for (casual) sex related talks Tags: roommate au, platonic relationship, brief talk about sex, quality time, silly roommate dynamics, this one is less feely and immersive from usual bcs i too am exhausted irl, the war is over and everything's good but the details are vague au Word Count: 2.1k A/N: Ah a surprise x reader drop! Less immersive this time, more like for self indulgence purposes. I didn't quadruple check this, but enjoy all the same you guys. Guess who just got home from a Lunar New Year gathering and whipped up a self indulgence platonic fic instead of working on another priority WIP and/or sleeping? Also I wrote this half awake. Inspired by @/hellfiresky's Fox platonic fic (vod it's crazy good I'm obsessed).

divider by me

Fives takes his headphone off – the upbeat music fading away and still ringing through the cushions thanks to its blatantly loud volume – and that's when he catches the shower running.

Oh good, you're home. You were gone for an annual family gathering today, leaving him alone to look after your apartment and its shared spaces. It's nearing midnight, and he was just getting worried if you were kidnapped on the way home or something.

As your roommate, of course he cares. And that he's not a mean person too.

That's what you said in your first meeting with the ARC trooper. It was in one of the clone friendly places below the surface – a Corellian buckwheat noodle shop whose owner is a pro-clone and gives 70% off for clones – that you happened to haunt as well. He went in with his brothers, got a few spiked soda themselves, and you both met.

“What, you think I look so big and mean with all these pauldrons and extra plates?” he joked, flexing his already beefy arms at you.

You laughed heartily. “Kinda. But I don't think you're mean, Lieutenant.”

That was during the War. And now it's over. The Separatists lost, the former Chancellor was a Sith lord (apparently that means evil Jedi somewhat), and the political movement in the Senate hurriedly circled around oh no there are 6 millions excess of these copy paste expendable dudes because the war is over they're jobless whatever shall we do and of course of course, some rallied to fight for their rights.

And honestly, you're happy for the outcome too.

You've grown soft for these clones, especially Fives and his band of brothers. Thanks to them you're up to date with news around the Grand Army of the Republic. It makes you a little prouder that you're all knowing with all these restricted tea.

The Senate is still working on the bills part by part. The troops get nice things that you can't count but you're grateful enough, but one thing you know is that they aren't allowed to purchase or own their own dwelling under their name yet. So you offer your interest in a roommate to share the rent. Fives is giddy to take it. And with their limited stipend, you volunteer to take on the larger cut.

Fives strides out of his room, clad in hoodie, shorts and socks, and raps on the refresher door.

“Yeah hi,” you reply from the inside as you're lathering your body up with soap. Fives' body wash (a mid branded one just so he's happy for not using GAR bar soap) is just next to yours. “What is it?”

“Need to number one,” Fives says plainly.

“You're kidding me,” you deadpan, slumping, almost wanting to shout and just do it over the sink in the kitchen.

“Yeah I'm kidding.” His mouth splits into his signature shit eating grin. “It's so late though. You want anything?”

You're always touched at the way he always asks about you. He just knows you're tired. He probably can hear how tired you are from behind the door.

But you're smiling, eager to know as you ask back, “Ya making something?”

“I dunno,” he replies, and you hear a little scratching as if he's rubbing the back of his head to release his sheer awkwardness. “Probably not. But offer still stands. You want anything?”

You lift an eyebrow as you think. “I dunno. Water I guess?”

“Hot chocolate?” he offers instead.

You reel your head back slightly at the better suggestion. “Yeah actually that sounds good.”

“Okay.”

Then he's gone.

By the time you complete your shower and put your clothes on (in a similar fashion to Fives' hoodie shorts socks combo because the Coruscanti artificial weather's a bit chilly lately), Fives is already pouring the hot chocolate into two mugs.

“Nice,” you grin, “If you didn't make one for yourself I'm turning on the stove again.”

Fives scoffs, slamming into your shoulder playfully on his way to the sink. “Bold of you to assume I'm doin’ that.” You watch him swirl some water in the used pot. He turns to you again, leaning back against the counter this time. “So? Is the family gathering shit this year?”

You roll your eyes at his pleased and hopeful grin. Ass. “To be honest it's less festive than usual – I have no idea why. Maybe because it's a little later than usual because you just don't expect the annual gathering to start at 1500, do you?’

“I don't have a family to hold an annual gathering with like you but I get your point.”

“Procrastinating, am I right?” you sigh, and your glance still finds Fives listening to you with a surprising amount of attention. A complaint jumps out of your mouth as you continue, a tinge of sadness latches onto your tone, “And they didn't clear out the table for sabacc. I prepped chips for nothing.”

“Aw, poor you,” Fives coos, walking over to your spot, “So you were… what, just talking?”

You sit at one of the high chairs. Fives moves the hot chocolate mugs over. “The house we're at got Spintendo Spwitch installed to the holoscreen. Played SpustDance the whole day, my muscles are all strained.”

Fives snorts as he watches you stretch your arms and roll your shoulders. “How many songs did you play?”

“I think ten or twelve.”

“Dude,” he looks at you, “You don't even dance.”

“Hey there were instructions.”

“I'm expecting high scores.”

“Oh you bet.”

Fives reaches to pat the top of your head in appreciation but you swat his arms away, the ache in your shoulders only worsening. “Ow, Fives you little shit–”

“Oh now you're blaming me.” Stars you just wanna flick that stupid number tattoo out of his skin.

You kick his thigh. He doesn't even flinch. It leaves you a little disappointed as you mumble your complaints into your hot chocolate.

Fives still reaches out to pat you. You don't stop him this time. As you're sipping your drink slowly, mug clutched with sweater paws, you meet his sincere amber brown gaze as you nod your head following his pats – repeatedly, appreciatively. Fives is a handsome guy. Anyone would be lucky to have him, but you're settling comfortably enough having him as a roommate. He helps around a lot.

“You want a massage or something?” he offers, proving your point straight in your face.

You raise your eyebrows.

“Not an expert, but I can relieve some of that tension?” His hand slides down to the back of your shoulders and tries to clutch it, and you feel kinda numb (it hurts everywhere). The frown between Fives' eyebrows has never been that deep so far within the week. “Stars, you're stiff.” He grins teasingly. “Your little gremlin nephews givin’ you trouble? You were really working on those high scores, weren't you? Come on.”

You wait until he turns around to move to the couch before you swat his butt.

“HEY!”

You jump off the chair and follows him to the living room couch with your mug (properly clutched with your fingers instead of your slippery sweater paws). “That massage. Better be good as an apology.”

“Psshh don't worry. It's gonna be good for all you know.” You can hear the smile, so energetic, spilling out of his mouth. He plops down on the couch and pats at his thighs, his gaze silently expectant of you to just follow.

You sprawl across his lap stomach down.

Fives clicks his tongue annoyingly. “Not like that you idiot.”

His beefy thighs meet your exhaling breath before you bite down, drawing a very unmanly surprised yelp out of the ARC.

You look up at him seriously as you complain, “From your position it's not even how those people do it!”

Fives rolls his eyes exaggeratedly. “Fiiineee you're right.”

He very easily lifts you off his lap before he twists his body around and lands on the rug next to the couch on his knees. “Where do you want me?”

“Backside,” you mumble into the soft cushions of your couch, “Kidding. My arm.”

“I mean I wouldn't refuse.”

You successfully shove a hand into his face and with your palm pressed ingloriously against his lips, his mouth opens and his tongue sweeps across your hand.

“EW GROSS!” you squeal, retracting your hand as if you're touching a burning hot pan. As the little shit throws his head back in satisfied laughter, you can't hold your stupid smile either. You wipe your hand on his blue hoodie. “And you're disgusting.”

Fives lets loose the last of his chuckle as he starts to take your arm, his thumbs pressing and gliding against your tense muscles.

“Oh okay that does feel good,” you mutter as you sink deeper into the couch. Though your position on the couch is shit and probably giving him a little hard time on the angle of approach, plus the pressure is muffled by your hoodie, it still feels nice all the same. You're feeling spoiled and man isn't that just good after an exhausting day acting not being an ass.

“You definitely overdid your SpustDance game today,” complains your roommate again. “If this doesn't work you’ll need a huge orgasm to–” he pats your stiff shoulder “–loosen all these.”

You don't open your eyes. Harmless sex jokes are regulars in your shared space. “Not feeling it this week.”

“Really?” He's surprised. “You're a weirdo.”

“Hey if y'all wanna hit me, do it a week after my period. Promise I'll go feral.”

He scoffs under his breath. “Bet, roomie. Bet.”

It's just weird neither of you has made the move to be steamy. Fives has probably walked in on you changing a handful of times, but he treats it as casually as backing away and muttering sorry loud enough for you to hear. You appreciate that, and you appreciate and bask in the whole lot of friendly comfort he seems to exude all around him. He's one of those disciplined and respected men in the army (you're surprised considering how much of a little shit he is in real life) and you keep up with that.

You cherish this friendship. So much that if he finally earns his rights to get his own place, you don't even want him to move out. Or that it'll take a long time for you to come around the fact. You don't mind his presence, and honestly you just hate how lonely your apartment's gonna be.

What you don't know is that he's feeling the same. Fives is forever grateful that you even wanted to take him in, when many other civilians don't, and he cherishes your friendship just as much, probably a pinch more. He does his shared chores out of duty, treating your apartment as not only merely shared space but his home.

Your presence grounds him in this new life. You guide him the domestic basics; grocery run, laundering his own clothes, cooking, and many others that are relatively new to his skill set list. Fives can't be grateful enough, he thinks, and you're just… there, helping him without expecting so much from him. That's all he needs.

And that he feels the need to just annoy you out of nowhere – out of his fondness and cuteness aggression, really – by climbing onto your back and just flop down on your body.

You wheeze. “KRIFF FIVES YOU'RE HEAVY– GEROFF–”

Fives smiles into your hoodie. “Nah I'm good.”

You relax your body after an attempted squirm to get him off. Oh he's not that heavy. It's actually nice. “Whatever,” you mumble into the couch, total exhaustion and sleep creeping into your now relaxed muscles.

��Yeah?” he asks aloud.

“Uh huh,” you sigh, “Okay bye night I'm dozing off.”

For once he doesn't even protest as if he's the one suffering. You wonder if he's comfy in this position too. “Sweet dreams, roomie,” he plays along, probably playing on his sleepy tone of voice too.

And you know that he's just gonna carry you to your bedroom later. Because he too is a gentleman like that.

Taglist: @yoursrosie @hellfiresky @msmeredithrose

A/N: You can request for x reader in my askbox! If you're interested in my clone x reader oneshots you can sign up as well to be tagged of future works. (Link provided)

#fives x reader #arc trooper fives x reader #arc trooper fives #tcw fives #z3st reader fics #star wars #clone wars #tcw #platonic #clone x reader #x reader #tcw x reader #star wars x reader #star wars fanfiction #clone wars fanfiction #star wars one shot

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bteezxyewriter12 · 2 years ago

Text

Fucking You Right

Pairing- Jungkook x Named Reader

Word count- 4.9k

Includes- Argument, sex, fingering, oral, pussy eating, cum eating, missionary, cock riding, tummy bulge, squirting, multiple orgasms, fluff, Jungkook is such a fanboy for his girl

Tag List- @mingtina @jaxxminee @yeosayang @delightfulmoonbanana @tannie13 @y00nzin0 @marsstarxhwa

@borntowalkaway @soulseobi05 @kpop-bambi @seokwoosmole @meowmeowminnie @realisticnotes @effielumiere @svnbangtansworld

Gif Credit- @jung-koook

Masterlists- check out for more fics

📝Masterlists 📝BTS Masterlist 📝Jungkook Masterlist

Jungkook POV

She's bopping her head to the music, my headphones on her ears, sitting next to me on the couch, Bam's head in her lap as she absentmindedly pets him

She's the only one I'm letting hear the finished track before anyone else

I value her input and I also wanted her to hear this song

The explicit version

I see when she hears the part I want her too because her head snaps to me, her eyes wide as plates, her mouth dropped open

"Holy shit", she gapes

I just smile, waiting for the song to finish

Waiting to see if she gets it

Two minutes later she pulls the headphones off, her face blushing

"Jesus Christ Kookie", she says

"Do you like it? Is it good?"

She nods, "It's good. So cute and then... damn....that line..."

"Which one?", I ask nonchalantly

She rolls her eyes, "You know. The 'fucking you right' one? ARMYS are gonna go insane"

Yeah I know

But that's not why I did it

"Are you really gonna sing this live?"

I shake my head, "That's the explicit version. There's a clean one. Changes fucking to loving"

She raises her eyebrow, "Still can be taken sexually"

I shrug, "I don't care"

I really don't

I'm not a fourteen year old anymore

I'm twenty five and ARMYS have to recognize I'm a grown man now

"K-ARMYS might be upset", she says, "I-ARMYS not so much. They're used their artists dating. To them it's not a big deal"

"That's why there's a clean version", I answer

"Well, I really liked the song. Congrats on writing a bop", she smiles

"Thanks", I smile, somewhat annoyed that she still isn't getting it

She nods, cuddling Bam, "So movie? Or do you wanna keep watching the kdrama we started?"

I just stare at her, not believing that she's not going to say anything more

I mean I'm talking about fucking someone in the song

Something no BTS member has done and she's not gonna ask more about it?

How?

"Kookie?", she asks, tilting her head, "Are you ok?"

No, I'm not

"Is that all you have to say?"

"Uh what?"

"About the song. Is that all you have to say?"

"Well yeah", she says confused, "I mean you asked for my opinion and I gave it. I don't know what else to say"

"You don't know what else to say?", I repeat, getting upset, "So you're not going to ask about the fucking part? Like is it literally or figuratively? Like is it an actual person?"

"Well I assume you mean a girl Jungkook", she answers, "But I don't know why you need me to ask about your sex life? Why do I have to know who you're fucking?"

"I'm not fucking anyone", I growl, angry this isn't going the right way

"Then what the hell?"

"You're not curious if I have someone in mind when I wrote that line? When I wrote this whole song which is basically a love song?"

"I don't need to know who you're pining for Jungkook"

"You should be asking because it's fucking you!", I yell, the shock on her face so fucking irritating, "The song is about you!"

I can't believe she's this oblivious

"What?", she gapes

"God, you're so fucking dumb!", I shout, standing up, starting to pace, Bam lifting his head and barking at me, "Jesus Christ, I've dropped so many fucking hints over the last few months and you don't get any of them!"

I've done everything I could think of- complimenting her, holding her hand, constantly hugging her, kissing her cheek

We fucking cuddle everytime we watch something

And she does all these things back to me and I don't understand what she doesn't get

I can't stand it when she introduces me as her best friend, when she constantly talks about what a good friend I am and all that shit

It infuriates me

And I'm angry at myself because I was too chicken shit to be direct

The fear of her rejection is massive

I have no problem getting girls to fuck, no problem telling girls my feelings for them when I did have girlfriends

But with her it's like I'm catatonic when it comes to talking about my feelings for her

I assume it's because I'm fucking in love

I've never went that far with any of the girls

It was never love

But with her it just fucking hit me in the face and at first I was terrified

I tried to deny it for awhile but being with her all the time, I couldn't

It was fucking obvious

To me anyway

I choked every time I tried to say something so I decided to drop hints

None of which she got

This song was the last thing I was going to try indirectly

Yes it's also for ARMYS but certain lines in the song I wrote when I thought of her

And I suspect the only reason why I'm saying anything at all is because I'm so heated

"Hints?", she asks

"Yes fucking hints! Goddamn Joanne, we fucking cuddle every time we hang out!", I yell, "I hate when you call me your best friend. I don't want to fucking be your best friend! I want to be your fucking boyfriend! I want to be the only fucking guy you want, the only guy you see, the only guy you love"

Her eyes are huge, blinking, as she whispers, "Love?"

"Yes love! I fucking love you! What do you think that line about giving all of me in the song is about? The devotion line? It's everything I want to give you!", I shout, "And by the way, you can be damn sure, I'd fuck you right!"

The look of utter shock on her face is insane to me

"I'm fucking stupidly in love with you!", I yell, to make everything clear

"Then why didn't you say that!", she yells back, standing up, making Bam yelp, jump off the couch and leave the room

"Because I was fucking scared! You fucking mean everything to me! I didn't want to lose you because you don't feel the same way!", I yell

"That's your fault! I never gave you the impression that you couldn't tell me anything or that I'd ever drop you, no matter what!"

"I was scared!"

"You didn't have to be!"

"Well how the fuck should I have known that?"

"You would have if you'd open your fucking mouth instead of dropping stupid hints like we're in high school!", she roars, "If you'd open your stupid mouth you'd know that you are the only guy I ever wanted! That I want to be your girlfriend for literally years! You'd know that I'm stupidly in love with you too! You fucking jerk!"

I open my mouth to yell at her when what she says sinks into my brain

She....loves me?

"And by the way, I love that your stupid song is about me and you better be damn sure you're gonna fuck me right", she yells, "And to start you better get your ass over here and kiss me right fucking now Jeon, Jungkook!"

My feet move immediately, practically running to her

Pulling her into my arms, I crash my lips against hers in an explosive kiss that shocks my entire body

I feel like my body is on fire, fireworks going off and I knew, I knew she's the one

Her arms move around my neck, her body pressing against mine as my arms wrap securely around her

My tongue finds hers, pressing together and shivers run up my spine

When we pull away, I smile, running my fingers in her hair, my eyes on her gorgeous brown ones

"I love you", I finally say

"I love you", she smiles, "My Kookie"

I nod, leaning my forehead against hers, "Always yours"

She kisses me again just as I was about to kiss her

I pick her up as the kiss deepens, heading right to my room

Bam is laying on the floor and he needs to get out right now

"Bam, out. Living room"

He whines but gets up and leaves the room

I close the door, sparks running up my spine as her lips press into my neck over and over again

I get her on my bed, kissing her passionately as I begin to undress her

I need her now

She helps me get her clothes off, pulling mine off at the same time, the clothing thrown all over my room

"Jesus Kookie", she says, gaping at me, her eyes widening when she looks at my dick, "That's...wow... very....huge"

I smirk at her, "Yeah. It's all for you baby"

She swallows hard as I get on the bed next to her

Pushing her down on the bed, I get my first glimpse of her, my mouth dropping

She's fucking amazing

Her stomach actually has some girl abs that I had no clue would turn me on

They're not cut into her like mine are but the faint lines are there

And now I noticed the small muscles in her arms and her thighs, muscles that were always covered up by clothes

Add the tattoos sprinkled all over her body I had no idea about and she's like my wet dream

"I didn't know you worked out", I say, touching her stomach

"Uh yeah. I don't go to a gym or anything, I just do it at home", she says, nervously, "Do....do you not like it? Do I look like a guy?"

I scoff, "No Joanne, you do not look like a guy. Don't be dumb. You're fucking gorgeous baby. God, I didn't know I'd be this turned on by your muscles baby"

"Really?", she asks quietly

"Really baby", I assure her, "And this just means that now you have to come work out with me"

She raises her eyebrow, "You want to do that?"

"Definitely", I nod, "We can work out together and then I can fuck you all over the gym"

Her cheeks turn so red, making me grin

"I'm gonna fuck you against every wall, on every machine we use and in the shower", I tell her, lowering my mouth to her ear, changing to a whisper, "Then I'm gonna bring you home and fuck you all over my apartment"

"Fuck Kookie", she whimpers

God I'm so turned on and I can't stop my hands from roaming all over her pretty body

"Fuck baby, I'm gonna fuck you so good. Every fucking day, all day"

"Seven days a week?", she giggles making me chuckle too

"Damn right baby. Gonna fuck you right, eat your pretty pussy just right, make you cum over and over for me", I tell her, leaning down, pressing kisses to her chest as I grope her boobs, "Make you scream my name until I'm the only thing in your pretty head. Fill your tiny pussy up with my cum, watch it drip out of you"

"Fuck Kookie"

"Mmm baby", I whisper, kissing around her nipple, "Then after I'm gonna kiss you, hold you, cuddle you"

I stop kissing her, looking up into her eyes, "And I'm gonna love you right every day of my life Jo. You're my everything and I love you so much"

She smiles, her fingers running in my hair, pushing it off my forehead, "I love you Kookie. Always baby"

I smile, letting her love wash over me, making me so fucking happy

Moving to her lips, I give her a sweet kiss, savoring the feel of her lips against mine

Then I pull away and immediately attach my mouth to her nipple, sucking on the perfect bump

"Jungkook, fuck!", she moans, her hand burying in my hair

God, her nipple is so hard, easy to suck on as I squeeze her boobs over and over

Her tits are amazing and I know I'm gonna be on them all the fucking time

Switching between nipples, I suck and lick all the while trailing my hand down her sexy body

Getting between her legs, I slide two fingers inside

She's so wet she takes them easily, moaning loudly as I massage inside her cunt

Her pussy clenches tightly around my fingers and I can't fucking wait to get her around my dick

She's gonna feel so fucking good

Pulling my fingers almost out, I thrust them back in, listening to her wet cunt take them

Moving faster, I thrust into her again and again, trying to find her spot

After a few more pumps, she moans so loudly, clamping down on my fingers, her pretty body shaking

Found it

Making sure I hit there as I finger her, I spread kisses down her body, feeling her skin tremble under my lips

I like that a lot

Finally getting between her legs, I watch her wet hole take my fingers, creaming them as I kiss her thighs, mesmerized by the sight

"So pretty baby", I murmur

My eyes land on her throbbing clit and fuck me, I need it in my mouth now

Leaning forward, I give her bump a lick, making her shout in pleasure, then I suck it in my mouth

It throbs against my lips, sending bliss down to my hard cock and I can't stop myself, I start sucking on her hard and fast

"Jungkook!", she cries and oh man, I never loved hearing my name more than this second

I keep my fingers moving at a steady pace, pressing on her spot again and again, slurping on her perfect clit

Both of her hands move into my hair, gripping hard as she cries out in pleasure

Fuck, she's so hot

I swear I had to be fucking stupid to not notice her sooner

She's the most beautiful, sexy, hot, stunning girl I've ever seen

I'm so happy everything worked out and she's finally mine

"Jungkook! I....I'm...I", she trails off into a moan

Hearing her fuels me to go harder and I suck on her faster, loving the way her clit feels in my mouth

God, I'm so gonna eat her out everyday

Not only do I love making her feel good, I'm enjoying this so much too

Another tug on her bump has her screaming my name, her body arching off the bed as she cums, holding my head against her cunt

I don't stop sucking, making sure she feels the pleasure throughout her orgasm, her pussy pulsing so hard around my fingers, soaking my hand

Feels so good

When she finishes, I slide my tongue down as I pull my fingers out

Licking around her hole, her cum hits my tongue and I moan from how absolutely sweet she tastes

Opening her legs more, I run my tongue on her more, swallowing her creamy cum

God, she's so good

How is she this good?

Fuck

When I get everything, I don't stop licking her, sliding my tongue up between her swollen lips then lavishing her clit again before sliding back down

"Kkk... Kookie..."

"Need more"

"Huh?"

"Need more of you", I tell her between licks

My god her pussy is so soft against my tongue, so fucking wet

I love it

"You do?"

"Oh yeah baby", I answer, running my tongue along her slit, "You taste so fucking good baby. I need more"

"Jesus", she whispers, only making me chuckle

"I need you to cum in my mouth baby so I can swallow you're yummy cream"

"What?", she squeaks

"Oh yeah baby", I continue, swirling my tongue around her little hole, "Your cum tastes amazing and I need more"

"Fuck"

"Gonna give it to me?", I ask, poking my tongue into her hole, wiggling inside her

"Yes! Yes Kookie!", she cries, her body arching again

God that sight it so fucking beautiful, it's burned in my memory

Pulling my tongue out, I lick up her cunt then plunge my tongue back in, her cries so fucking beautiful

Her fingers twist in my hair hard as I tongue fuck her, my own hands on her thighs, keeping her legs spread wide open for me

Her cunt throbs around my tongue each time I dive into her, the pulses going straight to my dick

I'm so fucking horny and I need to fuck her soon

I need to know what it's like to be inside her

Soon, I tell myself, soon

The next plunge in her cunt sends her over the edge, her pussy squeezing my tongue as she cums all over it

"Jungkook! Jungkook!"

I'm hit with her delicious taste, moaning as I keep swallowing until I'm sure I get it all

So good

I give her one long lick after she finishes, then move away

She starts to sit up, but I move over her, gently pushing her back down

"But don't you want-"

I shake my head as I get her legs around me, "Not now baby. I'm fucking dying to be inside you"

She smirks, moving her arms around my back, pulling me on top of her, skin to skin

Fuck, she feels so soft, so smooth against me

"Is that so?", she asks, lifting her head, kissing my cheek

I nod, "Want you so bad baby"

"Then it's good I want you just as badly"

"Yeah?", I ask shyly

I have been very vocal about wanting to fuck her and I'm glad she feels the same about me

Her hand moves between us, wrapping around my dick

"Fuck, so big baby", she murmurs, stroking me, pleasure entering my body, "Are you gonna fit?"

I nod, moaning softly, "Yeah baby. I'm gonna stretch you out so good. Make you fit around me"

"Promise?", she smiles

"Promise baby", I agree

She moves my cock to her hole just as her lips crash against mine

I push in, my head slipping inside her

She drenches me as I move in inch by inch, spreading her unbelievably tight pussy around my cock

"Jungkook! Fuck!", she moans, her pussy taking my cock so well

God she feels so good, sucking me in as I move

Fuck

"Oh fuck, yes baby", I moan when I finally slide all inside her tight pussy, my body actually shaking

"Kookie, oh god, Kookie!", she cries, her body pressed right against mine, clinging onto me

"Fuck, you're even better than I imagined", I murmur

"Imagined?", she whimpers quietly

Smiling at her, I nod, "Yeah. If you don't think I fantasized about having your sweet pussy wrapped around my cock all the damn time then you're crazy"

Her entire face flushes pink and it's so cute

"Is...is it just like you imagined?"

"Better", I tell her, "So much better baby"

She smiles shyly, "You're better than I imagined too"

I smile wider, proud that she thought of us together

At least I wasn't the only one

Kissing her, I start moving, pulling back then plunging back in

"Oh my fucking god", I moan, feeling her spread open so pleasurably, pulsing hard when I'm all in, "Oh baby fuck"

Her pussy is so loud, the wet slippery noises of my cock fucking her so fucking pretty to listen to

I need more

I need to go deeper

Moving my arms under her legs, I push them to her chest, getting on my knees and pounding into her cunt at a rapid speed

I get in so much deeper, slamming into her spot, her screams getting louder and louder, feeling out of this world

When I look down, I see her cunt creaming my cock so much, it's fucking all over

I have never seen a pussy this creamy, not even in porn

And it's all mine

All fucking mine

Each pound into her cunt splits her open on my dick as I move harder and harder, the sound of our skin slapping mixing with the sound of her squelching pussy

Something I'm so excited to listen to every day

With each move inside her, I watch her stomach bulge, so turned on knowing my cock is that deep inside her

"Do you feel how we were made for each other?", I ask her as I fuck into her, "Do you feel how my cock was meant to be inside you? How your pussy was made to be wrapped around my cock and only mine?"

"Yes", she cries, her fingers gripping my arms so hard, her eyes closed, face in pleasure

"Do you feel how I was made to move inside you baby?"

"Yes Jungkook", she moans, "Yes baby"

"You were made for me baby. Everything about you, you were meant for me", I tell her, really believing that, "And I was made for you Jo. Just for you"

She nods in agreement, "Yes Kookie. Just for you baby"

"I love you", I tell her

Her eyes open and I can see the love for me in them

It's truly aweing

"I love you Jungkook"

Crashing my lips to hers, I soak in her words, her kiss and I'm utterly happy

Her pussy clamps down hard around me, pulsing at the speed of light and I know she's close

"Cum for me baby. Cum for my cock", I murmur, pressing kisses into her neck, listening to her moan my name over and over

This is something I can get used to every fucking day

"Oh my god, Kookie", she cries, her fingers digging into my arms as she clenches my cock in a death grip, coming so fucking beautifully

I watch her, mesmerized while unbelievable pleasure hits me hard

"Jungkook! Jungkook!", she cries, her small body shaking against me

Fucking hell, it feels so good

So goddamn good

I'm ready to explode but I push back my orgasm

I'm not ready to be out of her pussy yet

Thrusting into her, I fuck her through her orgasm, her body relaxing when she's finished

"Good baby?", I smile

"Amazing", she says, breathing hard as she struggles to sit up

"Baby-", I start

"Wanna ride you", she says and I nod, so down for that

Pulling out, I let her push me down on my back, watching her climb in my lap

I'm so fucking excited as I realize I get to watch her body as she fucks me

Oh my god this is going to be amazing

I watch her get my head in her hole, then watch her hole spread and strain as she slides down my cock

There's so much fucking cream pouring from her cunt, her pussy only getting wetter the more she takes me

She finally bottoms me out, sitting on me, her hips immediately rocking on me

The tight grip around my cock feeling absolutely perfect, her throbbing increasing the more she grinds on me

"Fuck baby, this pussy feels so good", I murmur, placing my hands on her hips and slowly moving them up her body

I love touching her skin, feeling her muscles underneath

Such a turn on

"Mmm baby", she whimpers, "Love your hands on me baby"

"Don't worry baby" I assure her, "I'm good to be touching you every single day, just feeling your pretty skin, your pretty body"

"Mm", she murmurs, leaning back on my legs

Her hips lift, sliding up my cock, leaving a glistening mess on my length

It's so fucking pretty

She slides down quickly, taking me all in right away and I can't help but yell in pleasure when I'm back inside her

She keeps moving, her bounces getting harder and faster with each one

I watch my perfect girlfriend ride me, her boobs bouncing in my face, a light sheen of sweat all over her, pleasure in her face

I'm so fucking lucky she's mine

So lucky

Gripping her hips, I fall into the feeling of her pussy engulfing my cock, the spasms, the way she soaks me, a pretty ring of cream forming around the base of my cock

I'm in heaven

"Promise you'll bounce on my cock like this everyday baby", I murmur

"I promise", she moans, riding me harder, her pussy clinging to my length in a vice grip

"I promise I'll fuck you everyday", I promise her, "I'll eat your pussy everyday baby. I promise"

"Yeah Kookie", she whimpers, her cunt so close to coming

"I'll fill your cunt with my cum everyday"

"Yes Kookie. Want that so much", she moans, "Fuck, wanna be full of you. Full of your cock, full of your cum"

"You will be baby. I promise", I breathe, sweat rolling down my face

She slams down, my head rubbing her spot and she screams my name as she cums

Her hands grab my wrists, my entire lap flooded

Looking down, I realize she's squirting on my cock and that sight sends me over the edge

"I'm gonna cum!", I yell

"Inside my pussy! Fill me baby", she cries

I grab her waist, pulling her down on me as ecstacy tidal waves over me, shooting my cum into her squirting pussy

"Oh my fucking god! Joanne! Oh fuck!", I yell, stars blasting in my eyes from the sheer bliss

I can't...it's never felt this good before

Never

My body shakes hard and I'm just lost in the pleasure

Lost in her

I come back from that intense orgasm to kisses on my face and her voice murmuring, "I love you" over and over

I move my arms around her, hugging her to me, whispering, "I love you Jo"

She smiles, gives me a soft kiss, then moves off me, laying next to me

Turning to face her, I pull her into my arms, cuddling into her

She giggles, her arm wrapping around my body in a hug

Looking down at her, I smile widely

"What?", she asks

"Afterglow", I tease

She bursts out laughing, "You dork!"

I chuckle, nuzzling into her neck, giving her soft kisses, "That's your dork"

"Yeah mine", she giggles, "All mine"

"Fuck baby, you have no idea how happy you make me when you say that. I never thought you'd be mine Jo"

"I am", she assures me, "And you're my Kookie"

"Always baby", I promise, gently pressing my lips against hers

After the kiss, she snuggles into me and I'm having the best fucking time, holding her tightly

"Cuddle time", she says so adorably

"Yeah baby. All cuddles all the time"

Her musical laughter fills the room and I know I'll never tire of hearing it

"Nap time?", she asks, making me laugh

"Yeah baby but first I have to ask you something"

"Mm what is it?"

"Well it's about the song"

"What about it?"

I've been thinking about this since I recorded the song and I really hope she goes for it

"I want you to be in the music video"

Her eyes shoot open, her mouth dropping, "What?"

"I want you to be in the music video with me", I repeat, "The managers, director and I were talking about the video and we all agreed that there should be a girl in it with me"

"But doesn't the director already have someone? An actress?"

I nod, "Yeah, he does but I asked him to hold off on contacting the actress. I told him I had someone in mind but I had to ask first"

"I...I don't know what to say"

"Say yes baby", I ask, "I just, I want you in the video. It's a song for you, about you baby. I don't want to pretend to sing it to an actress. I want you"

She bites her lip hesitantly, "But Kookie, won't ARMYS ask you who I am? Who the girl is in the video? I'm not a well known actress that they will recognize. I don't want it to cause problems for you"

I know why she's worried

I know ARMYS would get mad about a girl in the video

I see the ridiculous comments some leave about how they'll stop supporting me if a girl is in the video

Or how upset and hurt they would be

It's ridiculous

I'm not allowed to have someone special but they can?

It's not fair and to be honest I don't care if they're mad

I'm not sixteen anymore

I'm not a sheltered baby

And if I want my girlfriend in my music video I damn well will

If she agrees of course

"Baby, when they ask me that I'm going to tell them the truth"

"The truth?", she gapes

"Yes", I nod, "I'm going to tell them you're my girlfriend and that I'm ridiculously in love with you"

"Kookie, you can't-"

"Yes baby, I can", I say gently, "I don't care if they get mad. I'm not going to lie to them either. They either support me or they don't. But I'm not hiding you. Not a chance in hell"

She doesn't say anything, shock over her face

"So will you be in my music video?"

A small smile forms on her face as she nods, "Yeah baby. Ok"

A huge relief washes over me

"Thanks baby", I say, then give her a kiss

"Just don't blame me if you're career tanks after this", she mumbles

"I won't", I laugh, "Don't worry so much baby. As long as we're together, everything will be fine"

She giggles, nodding, settling into my arms, "Ok Kookie. I love you"

"I love you too baby"

#jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #bts jungkook smut #jungkook seven #seven jungkook #jeon jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfic #bts smut #bts fanfic

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yoonmoonn · 1 year ago

Note

Hiya Leo! Can I request a angst/fluffy au for Jungkook x male reader with situation prompt 2. "He walks behind you when you're in online class" where after Jungkook walks past reader(they're in a secret relationship), readers classmates try to befriend him just so they can meet Jungkook. After class reader feels sad that they only want to be friends just because of Jungkook and Jungkook comforts reader and they cuddle in bed.? Have a good morning, day, night <33

online saddness | jjk

pairing: jungkook x male!reader

genre: fluff, angst

warnings: none

word count: 920

a/n: i'm so sorry this took so long but school has been beating my ass 😭 in the weekend i'm probably post something so 👀

you hated online classes. the interrupted sound and the pixelated images, having to wake up earlier than usual for some classes and all the connection problems. the only thing that was keeping you sane through all of this was your boyfriend - jungkook.

when covid hit, you both decided to quarantine yourself together at his house, wanting to spend all the free time together. you yawn for the nth time before looking at yourself in the corner of your boyfriends monitor. a figure walking behind you catches your eye and you quickly turn around to see your boyfriend looking shocked at you, a worried and regretful look on his face.

he quickly gazes at the monitor, making sure you were muted before his wide eyes look back into yours "shit. i'm so sorry my love, i didn't realise your camera was on" he whispers. your gaze softens at the sight of his worried face "it's okay koo, don't worry" you whisper back. you turn to your lecture again to see some of your classmates' eyes wide, shock evident on their faces "shit" you silently curse. you forgot that some of them were ARMYs.

you look at jungkook, who was in the kitchen, before looking back at your notes. as the teacher announces the homework, signalling the end of the class, you hear your phone buzz. "let's hang out in the meet after the teacher leaves" one of your classmates' texts in the class group chat. you notice some classmates sending in thumbs-ups, so you do too "i should socialise with other people rather than only koo and bam" you chuckle.

like he was reading your mind, the doberman walks over and plops down by your feet, his head resting on the fluffy blanket that laid in your lap - one that your boyfriend made sure you weren't missing, muttering something about the coldness in his house and you wearing shorts. you pet bam's head as you watch your teacher leave the meeting after bidding everyone goodbye.

turning back to jungkook, you watch him for a few as he makes lunch for the both of you "hey koo, i'm gonna stay with my classmates for a few more minutes, just tell me when lunch is ready, okay? " you smile when he nods, his cute pout making you giggle.

you put your headphones back on and turn on your mic, saying a quick greeting before one of the girls in your class interrupts you, a fake smile on her face "hey y/n! how are you? "she asks, but before you can answer she interrupted you again "why did you never tell us that you knew jungkookie oppa? is he as hot as everyone says?" she giggles and some of the others join her "you know, when all this online thing finishes we should all go out sometime, you should bring him too." someone else exclaims before the rest of your classmates join in to agree.

you feel tears well up in your eyes. how come they never even really talked to you until now? before anyone can say anything else you exit the call, trying to stop the tears from flowing down your cheeks. you close the computer and hurry to the bedroom, trying to suppress a cry. closing the door, you sit down on the bed and finally let the tears fall.

you couldn't understand why you were feeling like this. shouldn't you be happy that they want to hang out with you? shouldn't you be happy that jungkook gets recognised? your thoughts get interrupted by a knock on the door and jungkook pocking his head with a frown evident on his face. "baby? what happened ?" he rushes to you when he sees the tears on your face.

kneeling down in front of you, he cradles your face in his hands and wipes the tears off your red cheeks. you shake your head, embarrassed to tell him you're crying over something so stupid. seeing the frown on his face you sigh, looking down at your lap "some of my classmates who never even talked to me before suddenly wanted to hang out after they saw you.

i don't know, it just made me feel bad. i'm sorry, i know it's childish-" he cuts you off before you could even finish, lifting your head so you could look him in the eyes again "first of all, it's not childish, and second, don't you dare apologise. it's not your fault. just ignore them okay?" he whispers as he gets up and pulls you in bed with him, throwing your favourite fluffy blanket on your bodies.

his warm hands wipe the new tears from your face before he presses a sweet kiss on the tip of your nose. "they don't deserve your tears" he smiles, wrapping his arms around you to protect you from the chilly air in his house. he pulls the blanket further on your shoulder and starts tracing thoughtless patterns on your waist.

his free hand pushes your head further into the crook of his neck before playing with your hair. your bodies were like puzzle pieces, fitted perfectly together under the fluffy blanket.

he presses short and sweet kisses all over your face, before pressing a final one on your lips "i love you" he whispers. you smile softly and nuzzle further in his chest "i love you too bunny" you mutter before the both of you fall into a slumber, lunch long forgotten on the kitchen counter.

#bts imagines #bts x male reader #request #bts x reader #jungkook x male reader #jungkook x reader #bts x gn reader #bts jungkook #bts one shot

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kupkate04 · 7 months ago

Text

A Hapless Endearment || Creepypasta x F. Reader || Ch. 1 - To Grandmother's House We Go

—Quick author's note—

I'm sure you all know the drill by now, but for those of you who don't, here it is:

Y/n = Your name

L/n = Last name

N/n = Nickname

H/c = Hair color

E/c = Eye color

F/c = Favorite color

B/m = Birth month

S/t = Skin tone

B/s = Body shape

B/c = Blush color

L/c = Lip color

H/l = Hair length

Also, I try to leave Y/n up to interpretation as much as I can, although some things will still be assumed about her, whether that be the kind of food she likes or her style of clothing, etc. It's difficult for me to fully write for a character who's a "blank slate", just thought you should know! Enjoy reading~

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

She exudes an inaudible sigh, propping her jaw in her palm and gazing through the somewhat smudged surface of the glass. Trees and houses of varying sizes whiz by, blurring together and composing an evanescent of greens, browns, whites, and yellows. The sun sits high on its invisible throne above. Its warm, golden rays break through an army of fluffy clouds, capturing the atmosphere in a brilliant, cheery radiance.

Struggling to imagine the clouds morphing into fun, inspiring shapes due to her current lack of concentration, she frowns, letting her discouraged eyes fall. The engine hums, the AC whirs, and wheels scrape the asphalt below, bringing the passengers closer to their destination. They've halted a few times to allow everyone a chance to stretch their legs and collect themselves, which has been Y/n's saving grace. Still, after ten hours of riding, her muscles are stiff and she is more than eager to be free from the confinement of this chatter-brimmed bus. Nestled in her lap is a backpack, and below the seat, directly behind her legs, lies her duffel bag; both have been stuffed with an assortment of clothes and other items she deemed imperative to bring along.

Headphones have been diligently positioned over her ears, the tunes that flood from which manage to block out most of the incessant noise surrounding her–including the ungodly snores of the man to her left. She fiddles with the wire, twirling it absentmindedly around her finger as she stares at the window frame, her mind wandering aimlessly amidst a blanket of fog. Languidly glimpsing to the side reveals her seating buddy has his head resting on the back of the bench, eyes closed and mouth hanging wide open. It's a wonder he hasn't caught a fly in there yet.

Ah, well. At least he doesn't stink.

She lets the dirty glass support her temple, her eyes threatening to seal shut. She's barely seized a wink of sleep throughout the course of this little road trip and her body is beginning to feel the full effects of it. Pondering momentarily how much longer it will be until they reach the station, a fleeting peek at her phone screen informs her of the time: 6:44 in the evening. The bus left at 6:30, so there shouldn't be much time remaining. Gosh, she can't wait to stand again. She's not even sure she remembers what her feet feel like.

She succumbs to the temptation to yawn quietly, giving her drooping eyes a reprieve. She thinks about what she's going to do when the bus parks and she saunters through the folding doors to reunite with her grandparents. It's been so many years since she saw them last. She was...nine?

Memories of her childhood have grown faint, but she can recall how happy she always was around them; how much boundless joy they brought her simply by existing. They were never neglectful, impatient, or spiteful, no–only caring and affectionate and overflowing with love. She's missed having that kind of positive influence in her life. It's been hovering in the distance for so long, just out of reach. Taunting her.

But now it doesn't matter, because she's coming back. She's finally going to see them again.

It's unfortunate that it took seven years to convince her father to let her return. He's so swaddled in his needless resentment and self-pity that it's blinded him. She doesn't understand how he could care so little–be so detached from the two people who raised him with every ounce of adoration they possessed because of some silly disagreement a few years prior.

She isn't certain what transpired exactly; all she knows is the vague comments she was told by her mother. It was likely an argument based around the roads he was traversing to make an income, as it seems highly in-character for him to get offended by something so trivial. Knowing him, he blew their moral concerns out of proportion, pitched a hissy fit, and vowed never to speak to them again, dragging his daughter and wife into the crossfire.

It was that reason and that reason alone why Y/n had to wait until she was sixteen to pay dear Nana and Pops a visit. He only relented because she wouldn't stop bothering him about it for two weeks straight after she found out both her parents would be out of the country during the summer for their jobs. She didn't want to be stuck at home for three months without any friends to spend time with, and she didn't want to go back to camp either, so traveling to Alabama for a summer vacation seemed like the only logical solution. They dropped her off with some money on their way to the airport, she bought a ticket, boarded the elongated vehicle, and that was that.

Her father had been less than enthused on the matter, and she recalls his torpid, irked expression reflecting in the rear-view mirror of the car as they pulled up to the bus stop. Her mother, on the other hand, was rather indifferent; far too invested in whatever messages lit up the screen of her phone to concern herself with domestic conflict. Y/n could only imagine which one of her flings she was texting this time, as situations involving her work certainly never gained her attention so fiercely.

A melancholic indignancy bubbles up within the girl's chest at the countless encounters she's had with her mom as of late that involved puny excuses, middle-of-the-night departures, and poorly-disguised secrets. She's never outright confirmed it, but her behavior is undeniably suspicious. She smiles more at her phone than she does when she's ever with her husband, and her 'husband' in question doesn't even seem to notice—or, if he does, simply doesn't care. Y/n hates it. Her family is falling apart at the seams and she's powerless to stop it.

A bitter sensation grabs at her tongue and she desires to spit the foul taste out, though only swallows and chews the inside of her cheek, attempting to rid herself of the disconcerting concept. She searches the hollows of her mind for something, anything lighthearted; a memory that contains laughter, joy, fondness. However, she finds nothing. She’s unable to remember a delightful moment between herself and her parents that took place recently. A time when her father outwardly expressed happiness or her mother was shamelessly candid.

It's a distressing realization to approach, that her family hasn’t acted as a true family since she was twelve years old; only still a child when her clinquant life slowly came crashing down before her. She isn’t sure the exact minute that it happened, nor does she have a specific reason as to why it happened. All she knows is that her parents steadily grew more and more distant, drawing themselves out of her sight until the feeling of inevitable abandonment seeped in.

She tried to communicate with them, collapse their walls and get them to allow their only child back in, though each time without fail, they forced themselves farther back into the cold, bitter darkness and left her desperate, longing for their love and affection. It became apparent she was getting nowhere with them, so after many fruitless attempts, she threw her hands up in surrender.

The example they set was not a good one, yet she couldn't help but subconsciously follow their lead. She grew emotionally drained, jaded—bordering depressed, even. Suddenly, maintaining any relationships outside of her home became a chore; a nearly impossible task that needed more energy than what she was willing to sacrifice. The more her friends noticed her inner turmoil, the more they tried to help, and the more she pushed them away. After all, if her parents didn't care, why should she?

She would get over this miserable hump eventually, and she would do it alone. Cutting contact with her dearest companions was an easier feat than one would expect, as it was accidental and gradual and she always affirmed herself with the fact that it wasn't permanent. She could always get in touch later. But weeks passed, and then months, and she made no effort to do that. At some point, she convinced herself that they wouldn't take her back now anyway. It had been too long, and she had treated them coldly. She wouldn't want to be friends with her, either—there was too much drama and emotional baggage.

It feels as if the person she once was fades from reality a little more every passing day, becoming invisible among people and society as a whole, including herself. Somewhere in the back of her troubled mind lays her positive outlook on life, and it's been locked in a box with the key thrown away.

Now sixteen years of age, she still struggles with these ill-fated circumstances and her dilapidated mental state but has learned to drive a vast majority of it into the chasms of her brain, leaving her an empty, aggrieved husk.

She blinks, reemerging from her thoughts of deep disdain as she registers the large vehicle she sits in turn off the main stretch of road and park in front of a building—the Fairfield bus station. She's here.

Despite the otherwise displeasing series of events that lead up to this, she feels a glint of excitement, pausing her music and gingerly removing her headphones, being careful not to tangle the wire as she unplugs it from the MP3 Player and wraps them around the f/c object. She then takes hold of her backpack, still open from where she retrieved the source of entertainment, and shoves them inside, zipping it closed after finishing.

Eagerly, she bends over to reach below the seat and lift up her dufflebag in preparation before glancing out the window, e/c irises gleaming in the rays of sun. The bus brakes, the door is slid open, and several of the passengers rise. She isn't far behind, throwing her bags over her shoulder and squeezing past the man's broad legs, being careful not to thwack him upside the head with her luggage as she does so. He's barely disturbed, stirring for a few seconds before drifting off back to the realm of dreams. Merging into the middle aisle, she tries to control her rapidly-beating heart as she treads to the exit, being mindful of the people surrounding her in every feasible direction.

How will Nana and Pops react to seeing her again, after all this time? Will they still love her? She has changed in significant ways, and not necessarily for the better, either. Surely that won't deter them, right? Of course not. I'm one of their only grandchildren. They won't stop caring about me just cause I've grown up.

Though her pep-talk does little to soothe a new wave of anxieties that wash over her like an angry tsunami.

Oh gosh. What if it's super awkward?

She maneuvers down the stairs and makes distance between herself and the mode of transportation, scanning the crowd to locate the elderly pair her thoughts center around. A whirl of nervousness penetrates her stomach, her brows knitting together subtly.

What if they've changed? What if they're just like Dad?

But as she meets the warm brown eyes of Nana from afar and notices the giant, surprised smile stretching across her features, all doubt withers away, and she offers a meek wave. The lady bumps the arm of the hefty man sitting next to her to gather his attention before she springs to her feet and sprints to greet Y/n, her expression contorted into one of pure bliss. A small grin tugs at Y/n's face, and she stands idle, taking into account Nana's appearance as she hurries forward.

She’s adorning a floral dress, patterned with tiny petaled flowers of all different shapes and a skirt that drapes down to her shins. Her shoes are simple beige sandals, and her grey, fine hair is tied back into a Chinese-inspired bun. Her eyes are kind and welcoming, though sunken with age and life experience, and the wrinkles that crease her forehead and cheeks only clue Y/n in on how old she must be getting, now.

"Y/n!" Nana calls out, voice brimmed with exhilaration as she dodges other pedestrians before reaching out and enveloping the h/c in a tight embrace, her frail arms wrapping around her frame and reeling her in as close as she can. Her actions almost knock both of them to the ground, but Y/n balances herself before she can stumble and reciprocates the gesture.

"Hi, Nana," she says, tone more genial than it's been in a long time. A pleasant scent wafts up into her nose; a peaceful aroma, a mixture of strawberries and cinnamon. She hugs back with her free arm soon after, squeezing her grandmother’s scrawny torso with as little force as required so she doesn’t somehow injure her.

Pops joins his wife with a notably calmer pace and snakes his arms around the two smaller individuals, his slightly yellowed teeth apparent through his beam. A stout man of classic tastes, he wears a 1950s fedora, a baby blue collared shirt, and suspenders. His hold is strong and secure and Y/n feels an almost overwhelming sense of comfort slam into her without warning. She chuckles—a soft, elated sound—and her chest is flooded with gleeful fuzziness. It's certainly an odd, foreign type of feeling, but she accepts it nonetheless. "Welcome home, kiddo."

"We've missed you so much," Nana chirps, pulling away after what has to be a solid two minutes and prompting Pops to do the same. Her wrinkled hands grasp her shoulders before sliding up to cup her face, gently tilting it upward to get a better look. A stunned expression crawls across her attributes before it’s replaced by a wider—if it’s even viable—smile. “Oh, you’ve grown so much!” She turns her head. “Phil, do you see her?”

“Aye. I sure do,” he says with a proud nod of his head. “She’s just as pretty as she was the last time she visited.” Blush dusts itself along the apples of her cheeks and she averts her line of sight, embarrassed. He chuckles. “Just as bashful, too.”

“Leave her alone.” She pivots again to face her, excitement dancing in her faded brown eyes. She brushes a strand of hair behind her ear before giving her another hug. “We’ve missed you, sweetie. It’s been too long.” Y/n nods timidly, not accustomed to being so doted on. Behind her, the wheels of the bus grind against the asphalt as it leaves shortly after the doors close, and she twists her head around just in time to see it drive away, leaving her there for the summer. There's no other place she'd rather be, and their presence is only confirming those feelings. "We have so much catching up to do! I haven’t seen you since you were a little girl.” She looks back at the old woman and feels her squeeze her arm. “How old are you now? Fifteen?”

“She looks more grown-up than that,” Phil comments, and Y/n shrugs, biting her lip.

“Uh, I...turned sixteen in B/m.”

“My word!” Nana exclaims, cupping a hand to her mouth to emphasize. “You’re practically an adult, already!”

“Only a few years older than that darned cat of yours, Farrah,” he says, and Y/n’s eyes light up at the mention of the familiar feline.

“Marshmallow?” she questions, astonished enthusiasm coursing through her, once again. “He’s still alive?”

“Why, yes, he is,” Farrah laughs as if amused by her inquiry. “Getting on up there, though. I’m a little shocked to know you remember him.”

“Of course I remember him,” she says, the volume of her voice increasing with glee. “He’s my little buddy. I wonder if he still remembers me...”

“I’m sure he does,” Phil says. “He was always followin’ you around. Probably cause you spoiled him all the time with leftovers.” The corners of her mouth pull upward and she rubs the back of her neck.

“Well...he needs to be spoiled. Too sweet not to be spoiled.”

“Very true.” Farrah smiles.

“And yet I can’t even have a dog in the house,” he grumbles playfully. “You cat lovers don’t make any sense.”

“We don’t have to ‘make sense’,” Farrah says. “Cats are gorgeous, wholesome creatures, and they deserve to be treated as such.”

“Sure, sure.” He waves her off. “You treat that cat better than you do me.”

“Well, you’re not covered in angelic fur and lay on my lap to cuddle, now do you?” She raises a thin eyebrow, and he scoffs.

“I can lay in your lap if that’s what you want.”

“No, thank you.”

“Well, c’mon woman, make up your mind!”

“My mind is made up! Now, come on, dear.” She tugs Y/n to her and begins walking toward the grey-blue Toyota Corolla that sits motionless in the parking lot, and the teenager follows, readjusting the bags hanging on her shoulder.

“You want me to carry those for you?” Phil asks, and she glances over at him, her eyes widening, taken off-guard by the abrupt offer. But she collects her bearings rather quickly and shakes her head with a grateful smile.

“N-no thanks, Pops. I got it.”

“Whatcha got in those things? They look heavy.”

“Um...clothes and stuff,” she replies quietly as they reach the 2007 vehicle, Nana shuffling into the passenger's seat and Pops opening the back door for her. She tosses her luggage to the opposite side and climbs in, smiling up at him to signal that she's done. He nods in acknowledgement and shuts the door, soon claiming the area behind the steering wheel and cranking the engine. The interior of the car smells like lavender, thanks to the cardboard air freshener swaying below the rear-view mirror, and the beige-toned leather lining the seats is torn in various places, no doubt because of how many years it has under its belt.

"You got any'a that modern technology that kids use nowadays?"

The air conditioning blasts through the vents to cool the space as he puts the car in reverse to back out of the lot before shifting the gear, navigating between other automobiles, and driving onto the highway. Y/n clicks her buckle into place and twiddles her thumbs, jerking her shoulders up lightly, though she knows he won't be able to see it. "I—I mean, I have a cellphone, if that's what you're asking..."

"A cellphone, huh?" He eyes her in the mirror and she shrinks away meekly, unsure of how to react to the sincere attention. "We have one of those. Don't really know how to work it though."

"You sure do know your way around Solitaire for someone who doesn't know how a phone works." Nana's light jab makes him scoff playfully as he stares through the windshield observantly.

"You know what, Little Miss Sassypants? Yeah, I do. That app is the only reason I ever even pick it up."

"And when you do, you're playing it for three hours straight."

"It's enjoyable!" Huffing, he shoots her a glare of faux annoyance. "Don't act like you ain't got things that you spend hours at a time doing."

"My hobbies are productive, as opposed to yours, so that excludes me from this discussion."

"That sounds like code for 'I know I'm losing so I'm gonna back out now before I'm called out on it'."

"False." She flattens out her skirt and narrows her eyes at him. "I don't speak in code, dear."

He laughs gruffly at that sentence, plainly not buying her words. "Keep thinkin' that, sweetheart."

The frisky banter has Y/n failing to suppress a grin, having forgotten how well her grandparents get along, and why they've stayed married for almost sixty years. If only Mom and Dad had that kind of chemistry. Maybe then their home wouldn't be so void of love and life every waking moment.

"So how was the trip, Y/n?" Nana twists around to the best of her ability to catch a glimpse of her granddaughter, seeming to completely brush the mini argument aside and spare Y/n her undivided recognition, eyes touching base with her own.

"It was okay," she mumbles, voice just loud enough for them to understand her. "I'm ready to stop riding for a while, though."

"I'm sure. You traveled a long way. I'm glad you stayed safe."

Pops decides to contribute to the conversation. "How's your dad doin'?"

Her face scrunches up faintly as she racks her brain for a suitable answer that won't draw any concerned feedback. "Uh... He's busy. Him and Mom both."

"Figured that much. Probably why they're leaving the country in the first place, huh?"

Her gaze drops to her knees. "Yeah..."

"Do they do that often?" Nana asks, her tone curious. "Take trips for their job?"

"That's like, forty percent of what they do..." She registers the car turning left sharply, onto a dirt road that leads into a capacious patch of forestry. They pass a faded blue and white sign, and the letters in bold printed across its surface reveals: Oneiric Lane, half a mile.

Wow, almost there already.

"But, um...it's usually not so far away," she continues her previous statement as they drive over gravel and rocks in their path, making the ride a little bumpy. "Not usually for such a long time, either."

"They still workin' for the same company?" Pops says. If Y/n were to listen extra closely, she'd be able to detect the tiniest hint of enmity masked within his voice. She blows a bubble into her cheek.

"Yeah, but it got sold to another corporate body a couple years ago and they changed a lot of things. So both of them have been on duty a lot more since then."

"I bet that's been stressful."

"It's..." She could speak the truth, but the truth would dampen the mood, so she goes for a lighter alternative. "It's fine. They don't mind some extra work. Just means more money in the bank."

Pops mutters something under his breath, but Y/n can't decipher it. She can only assume it isn't anything particularly nice, based on the conversation that elicited it.

Before she can dwell on it for too extensive of a period, a familiar, Victorian-style cottage becomes visible, and a ghost of a smile sweeps across her features as she perks up. Around the house lies a white picket fence, fringed with beautiful flowers of all different colors, their stems having grown tall and coiled themselves around each individual post, giving it an engagingly untamed appearance.

At the gate, about ten feet from the front door perches an intricate white arch made of wicker and intertwined with more vibrant plants, and the house itself is a muted shade of cyan, with an ornate wooden roof that sparkles like tiny crystals in the glittery stream of sun. The window frames are white, their shutters open to allow optical access inside of the home, and stained glass roses rim the transparent pane.

The whole architecture makes it look as if the words from a book of fairy tales crept out of its pages and sprung into existence, staying hidden between the trees until someone comes across it. It takes her breath away, and she stares in awe, waiting anxiously for Pops to guide the Toyota off the road so she can jump out and get re-acquainted with it all.

I forgot how incredible this place was... She unbuckles, practically leaning against the glass in building anticipation as the car comes to a stop in their driveway, a few feet from the gate and underneath a willow tree. She extends her hand hastily to grasp the door handle and swings it open, the early summer breeze caressing her skin as she hops out, the bottom of her shoes making contact with vivid green grass. She steals a big whiff of the unpolluted air, natural scents swirling through her nostrils as she drags her belongings out of the car and slings them over her shoulder once again.

Nana copies her movements and Pops isn't too far behind her. She gives her an encouraging pat on the back, then motions for her to trail after her as she moves toward the arched gateway, unlatching it to grant her entrance. "Wait till you see the dinner I'm whipping up, Y/n," Nana says as they walk along a neat path of polished stones and white marble. "You still like pineapple casserole, right?"

"Yes," Y/n says with no hesitation, the very image of the dish making her mouth water. Although she hadn't had the privilege of eating it in years, one thing she can remember clearly is how delicious it was—then again, everything Nana cooks is delicious, so maybe that point is moot. On either side of the orderly pathway are two rows of tulips, comprising pink, white, red, and violent, perfectly maintained. It astounds her how her grandparents can keep the garden so alluring while also making sure the house is in tip-top shape. They surely tidied up before she arrived, but they're also the kind of people who like a neat living space, so she doubts they had to do much.

"I'm so happy to hear that!" She claps cheerfully as they reach the painted oak door, and both females make room for Pops as he conquers the porch stairs and wrenches the screen toward him, the creaking of its old and unoiled hinges evoking a sound similar to a screech. He rifles around in his pocket, pulls out the keys, and unlocks the entrance, holding it open as his wife and granddaughter stride through.

Y/n examines the property in wonder. Along the floor lies a hand-knitted rug, shaped like a rectangle with additional ruffles at its edges. On her left is a vacant doorway to the living room, with a vintage floral-patterned sofa resting against the wall, and next to it, facing the front door are two chairs; one matching the couch and the other a darker, less feminine material. A frosted glass coffee table sits in front of them, and beneath it is a hickory plank floor.

Past the living area is a small dining room, with a wooden table and four chairs slid neatly on every side, and behind that is an antique China cabinet with double doors and several drawers, all of which are transparent and hold various cups, platters, and knick-knacks that have been collected over the years. Straight ahead is a linear staircase; she remembers it leading up to the bedrooms and the second bathroom. To her right is a kitchen, with a white, ceramic-tiled floor, a long countertop that curls around the edges of the room; the refrigerator and the oven both fit snugly.

Hanging overhead is an oven light and cabinets with crystal knobs, and in the center is an island, with a vase of lemon yellow roses, a casserole dish, and a couple of pots.

The fragrance of honeysuckle crawls into her nose, as well as the smell of a currently-cooking turkey, mixing and creating a rainstorm of nostalgia. She almost cries from raw mirth. I really missed it here...

“Make yourself comfortable, dear,” Farrah chirps from behind her, giving her a few moments to get used to her new—but amicable—surroundings. “If you need me, I'll be finishing up dinner.” Y/n gives a soft hum in response, stepping farther inside and allowing herself to succumb to the wave of memories that bombard her.

Her eyes sweep over everything in reverence as she comes to a halt in front of the staircase, glimpsing back at her grandmother with a sheepish demeanor and parting her lips. “Um...am I staying in Aunt Darcy's old room? Or somewhere else?” A flash of realization shimmers in Farrah’s eyes before she steps forward and nods her head.

Farrah nods as Pops shuts the door, blocking the bright sunlight and capturing the area in a bit more darkness. “Yes, that's where you can sleep, store your things, anything. Of course, your dad's room is available too, but I didn't figure you'd want to stay somewhere with all those ugly band posters."

She breathes a quiet laugh. “Y-yeah, Aunt Darcy’s room will be fine." She spins on her heel and begins her small trek up the dozen or so stairs. The concept of being in her father’s childhood bedroom doesn’t sit right in her stomach. “Thank you, Nana.”

“Are you sure you don’t need any help with your bags?” she questions from below, her soft voice echoing upward and easily extending to Y/n’s ears. “They look awfully heavy.”

“No, it’s okay, I got ‘em,” she reassures, attaining the top step and taking a moment to pilot the somewhat narrow space before her. On the floor is a thin white rug that stretches the length of the hallway; to her immediate right is a small, polished table that supports a dainty-looking bouquet of petunias in a glass vase. On her left is a door that's been left ajar, divulging a bit of the interior and reminding her that this is indeed where she’s going.

She uses her free hand to push it open, lighting up when she wanders inside. The walls are a pristine, rosy pink, with a floor crafted out of ash wood planks that complements the design and hues nicely. On the opposite side of the room is a bed, made as a sort of cubbyhole into the wall and at a direct angle next to a window. Built into the wall are two bookshelves, both on either side of the bed and filled with colorful books of assorted sizes.

Beneath the mattress is a long drawer which she recalls to be a trundle bed. Attached to the ceiling above is a set of turquoise sheers, slid to either side of the sleeping niche, and loosely tied to the wall with some twine. In one corner, next to the other window, hangs a basket swing, with two pink pillows placed inside to cushion it. To her right is a closet, the door shut and a shoe organizer clinging to its top edge. Inside the pouches are several pairs of footwear, each separated and easily discernible.

A white, fluffy rug lays spread across the floor, underneath a clothes hamper, a small, cushioned bench, and a cotton bean bag chair. A chipped desk sits pressed against the wall, with several drawers inside and a stool of the same color pushed neatly beneath it. A reading lamp stands atop the surface, along with a couple of minuscule baskets to hold diverse writing tools; a notebook and binder stacked onto each other, a glass paperweight, and a mirror.

She releases an inaudible sigh, the corners of her lips quirking up into a content smile as she walks further inside, depositing her bags on the bed and doing a double-take of her temporary bedroom. A giddy sensation arises within her chest; one she hasn’t experienced in far too long. She turns her head and gazes through the open window, viewing the yard of green grass and colorful flowers below and admiring how the sun’s stunning yellow beams peer down through the towering trees.

She unzips her duffle bag and removes a pile of clothes from the main compartment, busying herself over the course of the next thirty minutes. The walk-in closet isn't huge but still larger than she remembered, meaning there's plenty of space to store all of her clothing pieces. She takes note of the fact that a vast majority of her aunt's stuff is no longer here, and she presumes Nana removed them to create space or Darcy herself came by and collected everything. Y/n hangs a good half of her items and keeps the rest folded, stuffing them into the shelf of drawers across from the door. She refrains from unpacking her art supplies and other accessories just yet, as it would feel weird and wrong to get so comfortable here after so little time.

After throwing her—now empty—bag into the corner, her stomach rumbles and she concludes that the last thing she ate was a honey bun, and that was hours ago. Yearning to ease her mild sense of famine, she pivots, leaves the room, and descends the stairs, once again being swathed by the pleasant smell of food, only this time, it's much more intense.

Farrah sends Y/n an affectionate smile as she turns off the oven and waves her in. “Hi, sweetie. Are you settling in okay?” The teenager nods, letting the smell lure her, and steps inside.

“Yes, ma'am. I had forgotten how nice this house was.” The woman chuckles in response, grabbing one of the three plates on the counter and passing it to her. She takes it in her hands and shoots her a look of gratitude.

"It isn't as clean as I would like it to be, but oh well. I'm too old to dust away every little cobweb." She sighs in disbelief, eyes twinkling. "Maybe I should hire a maid."

"That might be a good idea. You don't wanna overdo yourself." Nana occupies herself with making a plate of food for her husband, listening to Y/n talk and humming along. "But, uh...while I'm here, I'd be happy to help you with anything you have to get done."

"How sweet of you to offer, N/n." She grins as she scoops a spoonful of mashed potatoes onto the dish. "I'll keep that in mind. Now, please—eat something. It's all ready."

"Thanks for this, Nana." She finds her way around the woman and gets a serving of everything—potatoes, turkey, rolls, pineapple casserole. The thought of indulging herself makes her want to melt. "It smells delicious."

"Oh, you're so welcome, dear." She pours a glass of milk for Pops and offers a toothy smile. "I hardly ever get to cook for anyone besides your grandfather and myself. This is an honor."

Y/n feels compelled to hug her again, but ultimately resists the urge, not wishing to take a chance on spilling the food being held in both sets of hands. Tears threaten to rim her eyes, her grip tightening on the plate. Such displays of selflessness is a stranger to her, but she cherishes every second of it. "I love you, Nana."

She fails to see the way Farrah's heart swells at her words, her face contorting into one of deep adoration. "Oh, I love you too, Y/n—me and Phil both. So much. And we're so happy you wanted to come visit us."

After a short exchange of smiles, Nana departs and Y/n finishes gathering her meal, fetching a bottle of water from the fridge and heading into the dining room, noticing Pops already sitting at the table, silently awaiting his own share of food. She lowers herself into the chair opposite him, the steam from the hot meal floating up into her face and making her eager to taste it.

“Hello, young lady,” he greets, and she meets his copper-brown eyes. “This house treatin' you okay?”

“Yes, sir,” she replies with a slight dip of her head.

“Is it cozy enough for ya? I know you’re used to all those fancy items and rich city life, so I’m sorry if it doesn’t meet your expectations.” Her eyes widen almost a comical amount and she stares at him as if he’d attempted to behead her. Taking a scoop of mashed potatoes with her spoon, she swiftly shakes her head before taking a bite.

“No, Pops, it does. The country’s amazing.” She brushes a strand of h/c hair behind her ear and swallows the flavorful vegetable. “City life isn’t that good. Honestly, I’d rather be here than in some hundred-thousand-dollar penthouse.” A large, satisfied smile takes residence on his wrinkled features and his eyes crinkle up before he laughs blissfully.

“You hear this, Farrah?” He regards the said woman as she enters the dining room, taking her rightful seat to the side of her spouse and passing his plate to him. “This girl hasn’t been tainted yet. We should keep her here, make sure she stays that way.”

A kind grin etches across her lips, though she dismisses him. “I don’t think her parents would approve of that, Phil.”

“No, they wouldn’t care,” Y/n murmurs in response, noticing the pitying looks being thrown her way, and she eats a forkful of casserole to fill the somewhat tense silence that’s fallen over the table. She keeps her eyes trained on the platter in front of her, suddenly finding it much more interesting.

“I’m sure that’s not true, sweetie.” Farrah’s voice is tender and reaffirming. Y/n only shrugs.

“They'd probably forget I was here at all, after a while. Too caught up in their own lives to really remember something like that.” Her tone drops within each word, embarrassment creeping up into her mind and flushing her cheeks a pale tone of b/c. Phil shakes his head disapprovingly while Farrah just watches her with sympathy.

“That’s shameful,” he starts, his voice flooded with disdain. “You're their daughter. How could they just forget about you?"

“I...I don't know. They just can, and have gotten pretty great at it, too.”

“When did all this start, sweetheart?” the old woman questions, sipping her drink.

“A few years ago, I guess...” It’s silent for several moments and Y/n wishes she wouldn’t have even interjected at all. Perhaps she just feels that she can tell them anything. Way to ruin the mood, genius.

“Hun, they’re not...abusing you, or anything, right?” The teenager can sense the reluctance in her words as if she’s afraid to hear the answer, and Y/n is quick to shoot her inquiry down.

“N-no, Nana, don’t worry. Nothing like that.” She releases an audible huff of air, relieved.

“Don't they spend time with you or anything?” Phil asks, leaning forward and facing her with agitation. She scours her brain for a coherent reply.

“Uh...no, not—not really.” She glances up briefly to meet his eyes, trying to shroud the hurt found in her own. “They hardly even talk to me. They don’t even talk to each other anymore. Dad’s always too busy and Mom is...” She swallows, probably a little too hard, and subconsciously taps her foot against the floor; a nervous habit she's taken to whenever her anxiety levels rise.

Her mind flashes with images of her mother sneaking out in the dead of the night. When asked about it, she'd snap at her, insist it was for 'business', and leave it at that. She remembers that one time she borrowed her phone to email her teacher, since hers had stopped working the previous day, and instead got notified of a message, received from a man with an unknown name. Initially, she believed it was a coworker or friend, but the contents of said 'message' involved raunchy flirting and, upon opening his contact, these advances were heavily reciprocated, and he wasn't the only one. It made her sick to her stomach. Sure, she was aware that Mom and Dad weren't exactly at a healthy place in their marriage, but she never thought one of them would actively cheat on the other. Those actions were guaranteed to ruin a family, yet her mother didn't seem to care in the least.

Her foot makes a soft thump noise each time it collides with the floor, though her mind blocks it out as she tries to draw herself back into reality. “Uhh... Keeping secrets.” Phil and Farah share a glance.

“What kind of secrets, darlin’?” her grandfather asks, and her grip tightens on the fork in her hand. Does she really want to say this?

“I—I think, well, uhm... She’s cheating on Dad.” She doesn’t look up to see the startled expressions on their faces, afraid that they’ll judge her and her parents. “I mean, the way she's been acting, texting people all the time, sneaking out of the house, e-especially at night, and I’ve caught her before but she just got mad and said it was ‘business-related’.” She brushes a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Plus, Mom and Dad haven’t gone on a date in forever. And I don’t know, it’s just...worrying.”

“Sweetie,” Farah starts, and Y/n internally winces at the strict tone that her voice adopted, “that kind of behavior is unacceptable.” She shakes her head in agreement, taking another bite of her food though finding that her appetite is steadily decreasing. “We need to talk to them about this.”

“No,” she interjects, finally meeting Farrah’s eyes with frightened e/c ones. “They can’t know I told you all of this. They—they’ll hate me.”

“If this is true, something needs to be done,” Phil says, his bushy eyebrows furrowed in distaste. “You don’t need to be in a house with two people that are so unstable. We could call them and you could stay with us.” Although the thought of living in a house with her loving grandparents sounds fantastic, she refuses by shaking her head again and speaking in a tremulous voice.

“N-no, it’s alright. I can deal with it.” Although her parents don’t seem to care about her anymore, she would most definitely shatter whatever remnants of a relationship they still have between the three of them if they were to find out what she told Farrah and Phil, and she doesn’t want that. She doesn’t want her parents to despise her; that would be a horrid feeling. And she wants to avoid experiencing it.

The rest of the dinner goes by at a leisurely pace for the girl, with her grandparents attempting to talk about more lighthearted subjects to cheer her up, and it moderately works. They ask her about school, her friends, whether she’s in a relationship yet, to which she responds with valid answers: “It’s good”, “I don’t have friends”, and “No”. It makes itself more apparent to them with every reply she isn’t living a normal, decent life. But they figure it’d be best not to pry too much. After all, she’s here for a break, not to be harassed with questions and pity.

She stands with her plate and bottle of water in her hand after swallowing the final bite, pushes the chair back under the table with her foot, and walks past Farrah and toward the kitchen, feeling full and tired. Her gaze shifts to the window, perceiving the orange and pink mixture in the sky through the leaves of the trees, signifying that the sun is setting below the horizon and darkness will soon replace its blaze of light.

“Marshmallow is probably waiting outside if you wanna let him in for the night,” the woman hollers from the dining room as Y/n discards her dishes in the sink and rinses them off under warm water. Thinking about seeing the furry feline after such a long time causes her heart to skip in excitement, and she nods, knowing Farrah won’t bear witness to it.

“Okay, Nana.” She finishes washing the porcelain and silverware and props them in the plastic drainer resting on the counter-top before walking a little quicker than normal, unlocking the front door and nudging it open, being welcomed by a cooler evening gust of wind.

She glances around the small porch and can’t help but smile when she lays her eyes on the white and grey cat sitting on an old chair, swiping his paw over his face to clean himself. He peers up at her curiously, and she approaches at a gradual pace to avoid scaring him.

“Marshmallow? You remember me?” She sticks her hand out and lets him sniff her fingers before fondly rubbing his head. “It’s Y/n. I haven’t been back for a while.”

He stands and lets out a small meow, rubbing against her palm and enjoying the affection he’s receiving. She moves forward and wraps her arms around him, deeming it safe enough, and lifts him to bring him inside. He bumps his head against her neck and she can hear distinctive purring; a sound she hasn’t heard in years.

“Aww,” she coos, unable to stop herself from coddling the furry creature. “I missed you, too, little buddy.” She turns, walks back into the house, and shuts the door behind her, nearly colliding with Farrah as she goes into the kitchen, holding two plates and a glass with a few droplets of liquid remaining.

She takes notice of Y/n and grins at the sight. “Ah, see? We told you he’d remember you.” The girl scratches Marshmallow under his chin, eliciting another meow of content from his mouth. His tail swishes and bumps her on the arm, making her chuckle.

“Yeah. He’s just as soft as I remember, too. And cuddly.” As she says this, she hugs him closer to her chest, and Farrah smiles warmly as she places the plates in the sink. “Do you need help cleaning up?”

“No, thank you, hun.” She parts her lips to object, but Farrah shakes her head. “You just spend some time with the fur baby. Finish settling in.” Y/n feels Marshmallow struggle against her hold, so she crouches and loosens her grip, allowing him to jump down and sprint to some area on the first floor, presumably his food bowl.

“Are you sure? You know I don't mind.”

“I can’t believe you’re the spawn of my son,” she says, chuckling and wiping down the surface of a saucer. “It’ll be fine, sweetie. I’ve got it covered for now. You go and relax.” Y/n figures that as stubborn as she is, her grandmother is much more so and it won’t do her any good to argue about it. Emitting a sigh, she grabs her water bottle from where she laid it on the island in the center of the kitchen and hesitantly ambles toward the staircase.

“Okay...but, tell me if you need help?”

“Stop worrying. You’re the guest here.” Without another word, she heads up to her temporary bedroom, unaware that she’s being followed by a certain feline, and sets her bottle on the desk before grabbing her backpack to move it off her bed. As she twists around to walk to the desk, she stumbles over Marshmallow, who's rubbing against her leg, and just barely catches her balance before falling on the poor cat.

It takes a short moment to calm herself and get over the unexpected adrenaline rush that swamps her system, but once she does, she scoffs. “Trying to trip me already?” She reaches down and scratches his head, and he momentarily stands on his hind feet as a response. “Silly cat.”

Marshmallow finds a bed on the cozy-looking beanbag as she finds a place for her bag and goes to sleep rather swiftly, his body curled in around itself as his shoulders gently rise and fall with each breath he takes. She strokes his cheek tenderly with her index finger, admiring the ivory and light grey fur that graces his small frame. She can barely remember the last time she pet an animal of any kind because it was so long ago, and many grim things have happened since then.

Sitting on the bed, her eyes drift out the window, where the sun has almost completely vanished and a full, bright moon now replaces it, dozens of stars beginning to litter the sky, all surrounding the miraculous white orb. I never get a view like this from the city.

She can’t help her entrancement of the scenery and feels a trace of disappointment that she hasn’t seen more of it. All because of her selfish parents. She leans her head against the windowpane and surveys it, blended emotions making her feel conflicted. But she assures herself that it will be fine. She will be fine. Everything will work out in the end.

Yeah. There's nothing to worry about.

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