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shuadotcom · 2 years ago

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Tell Me You Want Me | PJM (M)

❧ Summary: Spring break doesn’t mean much to you since you dropped out of college and joined the working world. This spring though, your parents demand you take off of work to join them for a family vacation along with your childhood friend’s family. You eagerly agree, both to see your best friend Sunyoung, but also to rekindle things with your hometown fling, Jimin.

With him being Sunyoung's brother, the two of you are used to keeping your hook-ups a secret from everyone, but this time, Jimin tries to keep a secret of his own from you: his new girlfriend. With some new (or are they old?) feelings stirring for Jimin, you can’t keep your hands of him, even knowing that he technically belongs to someone else. Cue the drama, the mess, and plenty of hurt feelings.

❧ Pairing: Best Friend’s Brother!Jimin x Female!Reader

❧ Genres/AUs: Angst, drama, smut, fluff, best friend’s brother au, friends w/benefits to lovers au

❧ Rating: 18+ (MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED)

❧ Words: 20.7k 🫥

❧ Warnings: Infidelity, profanity, alcohol consumption, age gap (Jimin is 22, Y/n is around 26/27), sexting and exchanging nudes, oral (m & f receiving), handjob, fingering, public sex, jacuzzi sex, penetrative sex, dirty talk, choking, spitting, sub!Jimin, dom!Reader, a sneak peek of dom!Jimin

❧ Notes: FINALLY FINISHED!! Written for the Spring Break-ing the Rules project hosted by BTS Honey Hive! My destination was Cancun, Mexico. Huge, massive, giant thank you to @playmetheclassics and @cherrysoulth for being my amazing betas!! Thank you for reading through this mess - I loved reading all your commentary 😂❤️❤️ And an equally big thank you the talented @hobeemin for this gorgeous banner!! ❤️❤️

This fic kicked my ass lol but I’m happy with it. I tried 2 texting apps for any texting parts. I’m not sure if I like it more or less than just typing out the texts (mostly because both the apps I used are annoying lol) but hey something new!

And full disclaimer before diving in: Y/n and Jimin aren’t really meant to be “good” here lol. They’re toxic but that’s the point!! Anyway I also made a spotify playlist to go with it because why not!

Four and a half hours. That’s how long, at max, the flight from New York to Cancun, Mexico takes. On a good day, it’s quicker, but of course, this was not a good day. You wouldn’t have had such a problem with it if your flight hadn’t been delayed by two hours plus an unexpected layover in Florida. To add insult to injury, your headphones died mid-flight and you forgot your power bank to charge them. There were also more terrible, screaming children than necessary, plus your seatmates were an elderly woman that coughed the entire time and a man, in his fifties at least, that kept talking to you (see: hitting on you) the entire time.

By the time you exit the airport and get into a shuttle to the resort, you’re irritable and tired, but the prospect of seeing your parents and best friend again keeps your little bit of excitement alive and well.

The last time you saw your childhood best friend was a year ago for her birthday. New York living is expensive, especially when you’re a humble project manager at a tech start-up, so you don’t have the financial means to make it back home to Southern California as much as you’d like.

This spring break trip was organized by your parents as an excuse to get both Sunyoung’s and your family all together again. They even footed part of your plane ticket, which you’re grateful for. After you dropped out of college and left higher education in the past, you remember how you very nearly moved back home to figure out your next plan. Still, when one of your old roommates referred you to the tech company she had started at, you took the job and you’ve stayed on the East coast.

You wish more than anything that you didn’t regret leaving home to experience life somewhere new as an adult, but you can’t.

Most of the time, when you’re in your aged, cramped studio that you can barely afford, you want so badly to be back in your parent's house in California, surrounded by people that leave you. Instead of being alone with no support system. But your pride keeps that from happening so you fake enthusiasm anytime someone from home asks how you like the city.

Thankfully, the ride to the resort is much quicker and less aggravating than the flight so you don’t have much time to be alone with your thoughts, which relieves you. As you thank your driver and get your suitcase unloaded, you hear a voice call out to you.

Whipping around, you see a second shuttle pulling up to join you at the resort entrance. Sunyoung leaps out of the van as soon as it parks and throws herself into your arms.

“Y/n!” She squeals, and you return the enthusiasm.

Sunyoung has been your longest-running friendship since she and her family became your next-door neighbors when you were both nine. She and her family moved from South Korea because her parents wanted to give her and her then-five-year-old brother “the American dream.”

When you think of her brother at that moment, your eyes dart over her shoulder then as you watch him step out of the van, the sun reflecting off of his freshly dyed red hair.

The last time you saw Park Jimin was via an Instagram post a few weeks ago showcasing his new dye job. The color suited his beautiful features wonderfully, but when you texted him that, you received nothing in response. He’s another reason you said yes to this trip (not that either of your families can know).

Jimin has had a crush on you probably since he entered middle school and knew what a crush was. He was always your best friend’s annoying little brother to you. Constantly barging into her room when you were hanging out, pranking you whenever he had the chance, and making childish jokes when you were around.

As he got older, his childishness turned into shyness when he saw you, even going as far as to run out of the room if you were in it. Both of your families knew of his crush and teased him about it, but nothing much came of it because why would it?

When Jimin entered high school and you were about to graduate, he was bold enough to ask to be your date to his freshman prom. You turned him down of course, but that didn’t stop him from starting to be bolder in attempting to flirt with you. It was always playful and you thought nothing of it because again, he was your best friend’s little brother.

Things between you and Jimin changed when he graduated high school. You were already living in New York but flew back home for his graduation party. Not having paid much attention to Jimin’s social media, you hadn’t even noticed how puberty had changed him.

The whiny little boy with the glasses and bowl cut was replaced by an eighteen-year-old, lean yet fit man with blonde hair, piercings, and an intoxicating smile. When you walked into the Parks’ house that afternoon and caught sight of him talking to his mom in the kitchen you barely recognized him.

You spent all day sneaking glances, your brain barely comprehending that this is the same boy that cried when you hid a Spiderman toy from him years ago.

As if he had known you were confused at the sight of him, Jimin cornered you outside later that night after everyone had gone inside. To this day, your conversation seems like a blur to you. One minute you were congratulating Jimin on finally getting out of high school and the next, he was reaching forward and pulling you into a kiss.

It caught you off guard and probably lasted longer than it should, but when you finally pulled away, Jimin was embarrassed and mumbled apology after apology. He tripped over himself to explain how he’d always liked you, and since he was of age, maybe you wouldn’t see him as a kid anymore.

While you accepted his apology you still turned him down. He was your best friend’s little brother. He just graduated high school and you were four years older and you had literally grown up with him. To you, it would look weird and it was left at that.

Two years later he flew to New York citing he was thinking of going to dance school there. Naturally, you showed him around and let him stay on the couch in your apartment while your roommate was away. On his second night in the city, one minute you were talking about your favorite pizza place and the next he was kissing you again. And this time, you didn’t push him away and you didn’t tell him no. Jimin was 20 years old and so shy yet so confident with you and you couldn’t ignore how attracted to him you were.

You let Jimin kiss the breath out of you and fuck you into your mattress that night. You let him do it every night he stayed with you. Then, you let him text you and send you videos and pictures when he’s horny. It went from texts to phone sex to facetime calls where he cried for you while he came.

Each time you went home after that, even though it wasn’t often, you and Jimin found places to be alone together. You fucked in each other’s houses when your families were out. You gave him handjobs in his car. He ate you out in the bathroom of a grocery store when you were picking things up for a family barbeque. Anywhere you and Jimin could find to be alone you had sex. This continued virtually when you were away and Jimin became your longest-running friends-with-benefits relationship - somehow lasting two years.

It’d have been two and a half had Jimin’s communication with you not slowed down to the point where two weeks ago he went completely radio silent. He was barely replying to any of your messages and stopped answering video calls.

“Y/n?” Sunyoung’s voice pulls you out of your daze. You blinked hard a few times, unsure how long you were too far down into your memories.

“What?”

“I said, our parents want us all to eat lunch together, but we can do something after and you didn’t say anything for like a whole minute.”

“Shit, sorry, I’m just tired from that hell flight. I must’ve had a war flashback or something.”

Laughing, Sunyung loops her arm through yours. “Well, that’s nothing a cocktail or four can’t help!” She gives you a wink that you return while also trying to see what Jimin is doing.

“Good. I need to shower first because I feel so damn crusty.” Sunyoung agrees, gesturing to follow her to both of your parents still exiting the shuttle. After greeting both your parents and hers with lots of hugs and kisses, you anxiously await for Jimin to step around the van so you can see him fully.

He’s been leaning down into the car talking, and you’re getting a little impatient. It isn’t until you reach your hand up to wave at him that you see a head of dark hair emerge from the car, and you see it’s a girl. A girl that grips Jimin’s arm in the same way you do to him when he’s kissing the breath out of you.

She turns and makes eye contact with you sending an unsuspecting smile.

“Oh, Y/n, this is Jimin’s girlfriend, Momo. Momo, this is my best friend, Y/n!” You immediately make eye contact with Jimin, who looks away in record time. Looking at Momo again you greet her, plastering on an artificial smile.

Jimin has a girlfriend and he has never told you. Something that feels suspiciously like jealousy grips your stomach.

Your performance at lunch is Oscar-worthy. Every question from your parents or the Parks about your job is answered with smiles. You have an entertaining yet informative story for every inquiry from Sunyoung about your apartment and the city. No one around you is in tune with the blazing looks you keep sending Jimin’s way except him.

His brown eyes can’t help but dart to you every few minutes, only staying trained on you for mere seconds before he pulls himself away. Kudos to him as well, for keeping up his usual joking, outgoing demeanor even as you stare into his soul.

He’s been ghosting you for weeks because he has a girlfriend that he never once told you about.

“Still no one in your dating life, Y/n?” Your mom’s question has your eyes snapping from Jimin to her in record time.

“Mom!” You groan indignantly. “No,” you say quickly, rolling your eyes before your next line of questioning pops into your head. “But it looks like at least one of us have found someone?” The question is directed at Jimin and as the whole table looks his way, a red hue blossoms onto his round cheeks.

“Oh, uh yeah,” he says with a cough, avoiding you. Everyone laughs his behavior off as shyness, but you know the stuttering and nervousness are for you.

“We met in dance class last year,” Momo supplies, beaming at Jimin who is too busy stirring his lemonade. “He was too scared to ask me out so I had to do it a few months ago.” She laughs, everyone joining in, including you. She’s pretty - clear skin and light makeup, a brown bob with bangs that fit her face well. Dark eyes, round cheeks, and a cute smile - it’s clear why Jimin likes her. Her smiles and kindness seem genuine.

“Yeah, I’m surprised you agreed to come on vacation,” Sunyoung says to Momo. “I keep telling you, Jimin is way too messy to share a room with and a pain in the ass to be around twenty-four hours a day, but you’ll see. You’ve only been together for what, like six months? You’ll learn all you need to know so you can do better!” She cackles at her little brother, leaning over to poke him in the ribs as she makes fun of him. You smile and jest along with her, ignoring the thickness in your throat at knowing how long they've been dating.

After lunch, Jimin announces he’s going upstairs to get his swimsuit for the pool. Everyone else already brought theirs down or changed under their clothes before lunch so they decide to head outside. You follow, but at the last minute let out a curse with the excuse that you forgot yours too.

No one is any wiser as everyone heads out without you with the intent of claiming a spot for both families.

Jimin is already in the elevator when you reach it, but as you exit and start down the hall to your room, you see the redhead with his hands in his pockets, walking to his room.

“Jimin,” you call out with extra sweetness to your voice. He freezes in his tracks, spine straight as he waits for you to catch up. “Hi.” When you’re finally next to him, head tilted to look at his face you see just how panicked he looks with wide brown eyes staring at the floor.

“Hey.”

“You know it’s pretty fucked up to leave people on read for weeks. It’s even more fucked not to tell the person you’ve been sharing nudes with that you have an entire girlfriend at home.” Your tone is casual, but there’s still attitude behind your words.

“Y/n, I’m sorry, okay? I just didn’t know when or how to tell you.”

“You could’ve said something in the last six months. We’ve been cyber-fucking this entire time you’ve been with her, Jimin.” You stop walking when you reach his and Momo’s room.

“I don’t have any good explanation okay? I was just so nervous to tell you. I didn’t want to stop seeing you, but I also just, I don’t know, wanted someone at home with me. You’re so far away most of the time. I thought maybe if I said yes to the cute girl on campus that likes me, it’d help me.”

“Help you what? Have someone in real life to fuck when I’m not around?”

“Yes, b-but not like that!” Jimin turns to face you completely, looking at you with something unreadable in his eyes.

“I was hoping that she could fill the void that you don’t want to fill. The whole dating me part.”

Ouch. The implication is clear in his words. You refuse to commit to anything other than sex so he looked for someone else to fulfill his girlfriend needs. It’s not as though you don’t like Jimin for more than sex, you just haven’t unpacked those feelings fully, what with the desire to keep it such a secret trumping all else.

“Y/n, look, I like Momo, I do. We have a lot in common and my family likes her but…” He trails off, still not meeting your gaze.

“But what?”

“But she’s not you.” Jimin meets your eyes then, his words coupled with the look he’s giving you stirs something confusing inside of you. Shaking it off, you move close enough to Jimin so that his back presses against the door, ignoring the way your brain is asking if you really want to keep doing this.

You do.

“Sounds like you really missed me?” Jimin’s head nods frantically, his breath hitching when you slot your thigh between his. “Enough to cheat on your girlfriend, Minie?” The nodding stops and he seems to consider this for a few seconds before he breathes out a ‘yes’. You lean forward and kiss him after this, your gloss-covered lips working expertly against his chapped ones.

Jimin’s hands rest on your hips while yours move up to either side of his shoulders, caging him against the door.

The two of you stay like that for a while, making up for the time away from one another and the lust you feel whenever you’re in any proximity to one another.

When the elevator down the hall dings, you pull back, both of you panting while straightening your clothes.

“I missed you too, baby.” You whisper in his ear before fast-walking three doors down to your and Sunyoung’s room and slipping inside before whoever is in the elevator can catch a glimpse of you.

Once in the room, you let out a breath, and move to dig through your suitcase for your bathing suit. Jimin’s lips are a trap, and if not for the unwanted visitor, you’d have likely done more than kiss, but now isn’t the time.

Aside from the party downstairs waiting, your thoughts and feelings are a jumbled mess. Lust mixed with confusion mixed with guilt. Truth be told since you started this thing with Jimin, guilt was always in the back of your mind. Not telling anyone about the two of you weighed on you at times, especially when it came to Sunyoung. You don’t know quite what her reaction will be to her childhood best friend fucking her little brother, but you can’t imagine it’d be anything positive.

Then there are both of your parents who would have too many questions and thoughts, but a new blanket of shame takes over knowing that Jimin has had someone in his life other than you this whole time, so it’s a lot to take in. You do know that something in you hates the idea of Jimin being with someone else. You’re sure he fucks other people when you’re away from home because it’s not like you were exclusive, but you had only slept with a few other people. You haven’t dated anyone though and you didn’t think he would either, but that was proving to be a wrong assumption on your part.

With all of this in mind, for some reason, the idea of never sleeping with Jimin again seems terrible. Not kissing him or cuddling - it’s not something you can imagine just not doing anymore. Momo seems sweet, but you were here first to be fair. And clearly, Jimin still wants you, so as long as you continue to stay hush about it, maybe you can keep living with your guilt and your secrets since he apparently can too.

Everyone stays by the pool for a couple of hours before going back to their rooms to change for the evening music performance your parents want everyone to go to before dinner. Sunyoung already declares that she’ll be going to bed after, having had one too many cocktails at the pool. She’s already going on about, planning the morning yoga class the two of you will take tomorrow followed by breakfast and the spa. You let her go on all afternoon, both excited about spending time with her but also planning how and when you’ll get Jimin to yourself.

You too have a good number of drinks as you lounge and occasionally swim, all the while doing as much as you can to make sure Jimin looks at you in your bikini. You dunk underwater and pop back up in the sexiest way possible, his desperate eyes locked on your every movement. Anytime you need to bend down to climb out of the water, you do it where he can see and it seems to work.

When your families go to the recreation room in the resort to watch the show, you sit between Jimin and Sunyoung, keeping most of your body nonchalantly pressed against him. Each time you shift to talk to your parents next to him and Momo, your breasts purposely rub against his arm and every time, Jimin fidgets in his seat, doing his best to hide his discomfort.

The band onstage begins playing an upbeat, catchy song which, given the amount of alcohol most guests have been tossing back all day, quickly has people on their feet. As the beginning of the song plays, Sunyoung jumps up, pulling you with her to the dancefloor a short way away from the seats.

Your families clap along, cheering the two of you on as you move to the music, both of you laughing along while moving around one another. Your dress, a slinky, short, royal blue-colored slip number keeps perfectly moving around your curves, keeping Jimin entranced the whole time.

Even after a few more songs and well into dinner, Jimin seems to be different than when you arrived. Earlier, he so desperately kept himself from making eye contact, but now he practically does nothing other than watch your every move and hang onto your every word.

At one point, Sunyoung jokes with you during a bathroom break that she thinks her brother’s high school crush on you is coming back.

“It’s gross the way he was staring at you when we were dancing.” She sticks her tongue out as she washes her hands but you just chuckle.

“I would hope that anyone under the age of 40 was checking me out. I wore this dress for a reason!” You wink at her through the mirror and you both laugh, Sunyoung launching into how much she hopes she can get laid this trip. You agree, leaving out who of course, you hope it’ll be with.

To ensure this happens sooner rather than later, two hours later, when you’re back in your room and Sunyoung is in the shower, you decide to take a quick video for Jimin.

Once you hear her humming along to the soft sounds of one of her playlists, you turn the tv volume up a little more and sit on the chair in front of the room’s full-length mirror.

Taking position, you zoom the camera in to focus on your neck and down. After hitting record, your hand sensually slides from around your neck, down to your breast, and squeezes.

“Jimin,” you whisper into the phone. “I’ve missed you so much. I need you tomorrow.” Creeping your hand lower, you slowly zoom in, stopping at the bottom of your sleep shirt. You lift it, showing off your little shorts.

“Can you make time for me?”

Shirt between your teeth, you pull down the front of your shorts, wriggling them to your knees, and lean back in the chair. In this new position, you open your legs as wide as you can, giving Jimin a full view of your pussy before stopping the video. That’s all he deserves until tomorrow. He’s left you hanging for two weeks already so he can wait another night.

Video sent, you get back into bed, scrolling on Instagram until your phone vibrates with a text from Jimin.

A picture comes through not soon after and it’s exactly what you thought it’d be: a picture of Jimin holding his hard dick, his hand wrapped around it tightly.

Biting your lip, you clamp your thighs together, willing yourself to calm down. Resisting the strong urge to continue with him, you say goodnight, telling him to be patient and put your phone on the charger, letting your travel exhaustion force you to sleep.

Somehow, Sunyoung managed to set an alarm for the next morning so that you don’t miss yoga on the beach. Bleary-eyed, you get up (after she’s jumped on your bed for nearly five minutes) and change into comfortable clothes.

While you had initially been skeptical, seeing how you’d been going to the same yoga studio back home for a few years, it was enjoyable and you were in a much better mood. Afterwards, the two of you stuff yourselves with breakfast burritos and fresh-pressed juice before happily heading to the resort spa.

Sunyoung scheduled a whole package for the two of you complete with massages, seaweed wraps, facials, and a manicure and pedicure. It’s a much-needed pamper session and quality time you and your best friend needed.

New York City has been great for gaining more independence, but that’s about it. You’ve made a few decent friends at your job and from college, but you miss your family and your closest friends more than anything, and being with Sunyoung again reminds you of home and all the inside jokes and stories you share.

During your pedicures, the two of you recline with your facial masks, gossiping about people from high school that she still sees around. She’s talking about a guy that’s always had a crush on her and how she finally had sex with him when she shifts the conversation to you.

“Okay, so like, I know you told our parents you don’t have anyone in your life, but be honest with me.”

You fight the urge to open your eyes and keep cool. It’s not the first time you’ve feared being found out by her.

“Why do you think I’m not being honest?”

“Y/n, I’ve known you since we were barely stringing together coherent sentences. I’ve had a feeling you’ve been seeing someone for a while, but you just never told me. I could be wrong and my best friend radar could be shit now, but I don’t think that’s the case.”

Unfortunately for you, her senses are still as sharp as ever. She’s staring at you, gaze unwavering as she waits for your answer, so you make the split decision to tell her a half-truth.

“Fine. I’ve been sleeping with someone, but it’s completely casual.”

Sunyoung aggressively shuffles in her seat and when you crack an eye open to look at her, she’s beaming back at you looking victorious.

“I knew it! I always know these things, especially about you! I don’t know why you’d be dumb enough to try and hide it from me. Now tell me all about them, you filthy liar.”

Letting out a sigh, you adjust in your chair to look at her, your mind working overtime to form the words to tell her what you can without blowing your cover.

“Well, I met him through a friend of mine at work. He’s her cousin and it hasn’t been anything serious, but we’ve been messing around.”

“Okay, and how long has that been going on?”

“Like two years I think.”

Sunyoung chokes on her water, apologizing to her nail tech for jolting so suddenly in her seat.

“I’m sorry, you’ve been fucking him for two years and you’re only friends with benefits?! Bullshit.”

“What do you mean bullshit?”

“You’re not about to sit here and tell me you’ve been messing around with someone for two years and there isn’t something more there.”

“I mean, there isn’t! We’re only sleeping together.”

“Yeah because one of you is too scared to do anything else.” She shrugs, eyeing you intensely over her water bottle.

You blink at her, a frown forming. “I don’t think so, girl. I think this is just easier.”

Sunyoung rolls her eyes. “Easier for who? Did you tell each other it’s easier? Or do just you think it's easier?”

“When did it become about just me?” You scoff, a strange discomfort overcoming you as the conversation progresses. Yes, it’s easier for you to just sleep with and sext Jimin. Who he’s related to aside, you’re on opposite sides of the country and long-distance is messy. Plus you’ve only ever briefly considered dating Jimin, but nothing can happen. Your arrangement works for both of you.

“It’s not just about you, but I want you to know you just had a whole mini-monologue these last few seconds. There was nothing behind those eyes.” Sunyoung laughs at the huff you let out as you turn to hide your expression.

“I forgot you’re weird and intuitive when you want to be. Stop it,” you half-joke.

“Nope, never. I just know a lot about people and their feelings. You’re lucky I can’t read minds because I would tell you so much more about yourself than I do now.” Your best friend winks at you before telling her nail tech she has to use the bathroom.

“And by the way,” Sunyoung says as she gingerly stands up. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad or anything about what you have going on with this guy. I’m sure you both have your reasons for keeping it friends-with-benefits for so long, but it may be worth thinking about how you really feel and maybe having a discussion with him about it. I have a feeling you really need to straighten things out.” She shrugs before scurrying off in her slippers.

You lay back and digest her words. Sunyoung has always had a habit of knowing you almost better than you know yourself. On one hand, dating Jimin would be much less of a pain in the ass - no more hiding and keeping so many secrets. Plus all the guilt about hiding it would vanish and finally let you breathe.

But you can’t date. He’s your best friend’s little brother. It would be a lot to explain and to navigate, and he has a whole-ass girlfriend here with him. You tell yourself once again that friends with benefits is easier for both of you and that it’s what you both want.

With freshly painted toes and fingers and relaxed muscles, you and Sunyoung leave the spa in search of lunch. You decide on a little Italian restaurant at the resort and run into both of your parents and eat with them.

“We’re heading out to do some shopping after we eat. What are you girls up to?” Your dad asks, stealing a forkful of pasta off of your plate.

You swat at his hand. “I was thinking of taking a nap. Today relaxed me too much so now I don’t want to do anything.” You lie, having already texted Jimin earlier today formulating when to meet.

“Boo! I wanted to go boating! They have a little marina and they’ll take you out and let you see dolphins.” Sunyoung gives you a thumbs down.

“You know I don’t like boats.”

“I thought you grew out of that!”

“Have you ever seen me on a boat other than our middle school graduation where I cried and found out I was in fact, scared of being on boats?” Your best friend pouts, sighing dramatically.

“Fine! I’ll see if Jimin and Momo want to go with me.” Sunyoung pulls out her phone at the same time you glance at yours under the table.

When you sat down for lunch, Jimin texted you, saying that he was still trying to convince Momo to go out and do something without him so you could come to his room. Sunyoung wanting to go boating works out in your favor because she soon announces that Momo is going with her because Jimin isn’t feeling well.

“What going on?” His mom seems worried.

“Oh, he said he may have been out in the sun too long while they were at the pool earlier today.”

Mrs. Park tsks. “I bet he didn’t put on any sunscreen. I warned him.”

“Yeah well luckily Momo came and she’s not afraid of boats!” Sunyoung playfully sticks her tongue out at you and you return the gesture.

Lunch goes by slowly, anticipation building at the prospect of finally being alone with Jimin. Momo joins you all to meet Sunyoung as you finish eating. The goodbyes are quick, your mom reminding everyone to be back to have dinner together. Sunyoung promises to text when she’s on her way, threatening you to be ready so you can do something fun.

The group waves at one another and as soon as you see everyone get into separate resort vans, you turn on your heel and walk as conspicuously yet quickly as you can to the elevators.

The ride to the seventh floor seems much too long, but as soon as the doors open, you’re sprinting to Jimin’s room and knocking.

He opens the door a second later and you’re on him immediately. You barely get the door closed with your foot, but you manage to do so and fumble behind you for the lock. With one leg behind you, you lose your balance and knock Jimin against the wall as your mouths move together feverishly.

The kisses you share are sloppy and frantic but that’s exactly how you feel. It’s been a year since you’ve got to touch Jimin, to kiss Jimin, and you want to make up for missed time and so much more.

When your lungs begin to burn, you pull away, both of you gasping for air. You lean down into Jimin’s neck, teeth nipping at his soft skin.

“I’m still a little annoyed with you and this whole girlfriend situation you know.” The word is enunciated with a harsh bite.

Jimin yelps. “Y/n, I - ah!”

You lightly chuckle at his outburst, licking the red skin. “The girlfriend you didn’t tell me about.”

“Y/n, I’m sorry.”

“All this time, you were saying you missed me. I don’t know if I believe you.” You pout up at him as your fingers undo his white button-down. Jimin’s eyes follow as you slide the shirt off of his toned shoulders.

You’d nearly forgotten how beautiful Jimin’s body is. His lithe, dancer’s body trembling under your fingertips. Mouth watering, you tear your gaze away and find the button of his shorts.

“I did miss you!”

“And what exactly did you miss about me?”

Jimin lets out a shaky breath. “Every part of you. Your soft skin how hood you always smell, your pretty hands, your thighs… so thick and warm.” He ends his sentence with a sigh as you let his shorts fall to the floor. He’s already so hard, his length straining against the fabric of his underwear. The two of you have been sexting all day whenever Sunyoung was barely looking, so you’re both plenty pent up.

“And I bet you miss what’s between my thighs.” Your tone is sweet yet authoritative, just the way Jimin likes you to treat him when you’re together like this.

“Fuck, yes I do.” He grunts when you run a finger over his print.

“Well, I suppose you can make it up to me.”

He answers in a rush, saying he’ll do anything that you want. You let out a giggle at his desperation, hiding your own.

“How about you make me cum then, Minie? Eat me out and I’ll think about forgiving you.”

Jimin doesn’t even answer, instead grabbing for you and practically dragging you to the bed, tossing you onto it. He’s on you in an instant, pillow lips kissing your neck as he works to undo the knot on the crop top you’re wearing. Once the fabric is open, he pulls down your bandeau, lavishing your collarbones and breasts with open-mouth kisses.

Your back arches when he greedily takes a nipple into his mouth, suckling each one for a while before he keeps going down to eagerly get to your shorts. Lifting yourself from the bed you help him shimmy your shorts and panties off and in an instant, he’s burying his face in your crotch.

Jimin lets out a groan as he loudly inhales your scent, such a lewd act having you clench around nothing. He doesn’t leave you wanting for long though, as he then licks a stripe from your entrance up to your clit, and before you have a chance to process that, his lips take a hold of your clit as he sucks and flicks your sensitive bud with his tongue.

“Oh!” You can’t help but wriggle in his grasp as he takes a hold of your thighs, delving his tongue between your folds, mouth moving as if you’re his last meal.

Jimin slurps at your pussy, grunting and sighing while he works. Your eyes slip close and your fingers find his red strands, yanking him impossibly closer.

“Shit, Jimin, you’re so good with your mouth. You love eating my pussy that much huh?”

“Mmph!” He answers, not leaving his position, his tongue now pistoning in and out of you. Jimin angles his head so that with every move, his nose rubs against your clit, the dual stimulation bringing you that much closer.

“Yes, yes, yes, just like that, Minie! Don’t stop!” Your words are pleading and he obliges, never having been able to say no to you.

Less than a minute later, your back is arching as shockwaves shoot through you, and you let out a scream of Jimin’s name. You cum hard enough that you’re still shaking under him, but he doesn’t stop. Instead, Jimin moves again, his mouth suctioning around your clit as he easily slides a finger into your wet hole.

Instinctively, your body tries to shrink away, but he doesn’t let you. He keeps a strong grip on your hips as he fingers you, quickly stuffing another finger into you. Torn between dragging him closer again and pushing him away, you settle for resting one of your legs on his shoulder. You keep a hold on his hair, your rapidly approaching your second orgasm already making you feel as if you’ll float away.

This is why you can’t leave him alone. His hands, his mouth, his everything keeps your body aching for him and only him. You’ve never been touched or kissed or fucked by any other person as good as the way Jimin does. The two of you barely needed to have any conversation about what the other liked and didn’t like when you started sleeping together. Somehow you, and especially he just knew.

Does that make you selfish? Absolutely, but how can you find it in yourself to call it quits when Jimin can leave you nothing but a sweaty, ruined wreck before even properly fucking you?

The second time you cum, is even harder than the first and actually makes your muscles sore from tensing so hard as you make a mess on Jimin’s fingers. He gasps for air as he finally lets your sore clit out of his mouth, only to move back down to your entrance to clean you up.

You whine at the overstimulation but let him finish, finally pushing him away when he attempts to dive back in for the third time.

“That’s enough for now, you maniac!” You laugh, seeing your juices glisten on his chin as he smiles up at you. Upon seeing him, something stirs in your heart instead of your crotch, but you will it away.

Instead, you sit up, pulling Jimin’s face to yours in a bruising kiss. You reach for his crotch, feeling just how hard he is and he mewls into your mouth.

“You’re so good to me, Minie,” you break away, placing kisses on his ear and neck. “Can I reward you?”

“Please!” He begs, his needy tone already causing wetness to pool between your thighs again.

The two of you make quick work to switch positions, Jimin now on his back against the pillows as you settle between his legs, yanking his underwear off.

His girthy cock is so hard it’s bright red, pre-cum dribbling out as soon as your hand ghosts over it. Jimin is panting as he watches you tease him, pout intensifying as he watches you stroke him with barely any pressure.

Deciding to be nice and not play with him, you lean down and slowly take him into your mouth, inch by inch until he’s in as far as you can fit him.

“Y/n!” He keens as soon as you wrap your lips around him, your hand grasping what your mouth doesn’t reach. Hollowing your cheeks, you begin to bob on his cock, the slurping from your mouth and the babble from Jimin above you filling your ears as you close your eyes and concentrate.

Truth be told, you’ve never been a fan of giving blowjobs, but as with so many other things, it all comes back to Jimin. He’s so different in every way from anyone else. You don’t mind the weight on your tongue with the way that Jimin becomes boneless and pliant whenever his dick is in your mouth.

He’s generally boisterous and goofy with everyone around you, but when he’s with just you, that dies down. He’s still lively and chatty but on a softer scale. It’s then when he’s under you like this, completely submitting to you and whatever you want, that he becomes the most soft-spoken version of himself you’ve ever seen. He’ll let you do anything you want to him as long as it’s safe and makes him feel good, so you do.

Besides, how could you deny him when he cries out your name in such a desperate, beautiful way that he does now?

“Please, please, Y/n!”

“Hmm? Need something, Minie?” You lift just enough to speak, before deciding to take back what you thought earlier about being nice and relaxing your throat to swallow him down, deep enough that your nose grazes his pubic hair.

“Ahh!” He bucks his hips up out of reflex, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. “S-sorry! I’m sor-!” His apology is quick, but you still reach down and grip his balls harshly as a small punishment for choking you which cuts off his sentence, gagging on his words.

Jimin’s eyes lock back on you, your hand back to stroking what’s not in your mouth while you massage his balls. He’s very clearly pleading without words and you already know he’s close to cumming just from your mouth alone.

Just to fuck with him a little more, you pull back from him just enough to wrap your lips around his cockhead and suck hard, nibbling at the overly sensitive skin just a little.

“Y/n, please! I need you so badly. I wanna fuck you!” He sounds close to tears and that’s when you decide it’s time to put you both out of your misery.

“You have to fuck me good,” you say around him. “Make up for lost times.”

Jimin, bites his bottom lip into his mouth, nodding his head furiously. “Mmhmm. I will, I will!”

With a smirk, you let go of him with a ‘pop,’ and position yourself over his cock. You’re more than ready to cum again, your pussy aching to be filled with him, so you follow his instructions as to where his condoms are in his suitcase. Once the rubber is snug on him, you carefully sink down, burying him inside of you in one go.

Both of you let out identical sounds of relief at finally getting to the best part. Hands planted on his firm chest, you start to move your hips with enough force to jolt the whole mattress.

“Ah! Y/n, so good,” Jimin cries out, his large hands reaching out to grip your thighs as he fixates on your tits bouncing with each jerk of your body.

“Fuck, Minie. You’re so big, you stretch me out so good.” Your voice is thick with arousal and neediness, matching his.

Everything else around you melts away as you ride Jimin, both of you filling the room with a harmony of moans and squelches. The air around you is hot, almost stifling while you lose the rhythm you built up, the pleasure making you unable to concentrate on your movements.

“Oh, Jimin I’m so close,” You rasp out, voice already sore.

He takes this as his cue to plant his feet on the bed better and begin thrusting up, bouncing you on his cock faster. You’re breathless now, head swimming with nothing but the way Jimin always fills you up just right and knows how to make you feel good.

One of your hands scrambles to find your clit, desperately chasing the end as both of your bodies begin to tremble in tandem.

Your other manicured hand trails up Jimin’s chest to his throat as you wrap your hand around and squeeze. His brown eyes widen before rolling into the back of his head, plump lips falling open. His hips pick up speed, moving so ferociously that you nearly lose your balance and fall off him.

Eyes closed and hips bucking wildly, Jimin looks so deliciously sinful underneath you. His mouth hangs open as you loosen your grip slightly, letting him take a deep gulp of air. You can’t help leaning over and pursing your lips so that a glob of spit drips from your mouth and into his open one. Jimin greedily closes his mouth, and you feel him swallow under your palm, not missing a beat.

“You’re such a good boy for me. I want you to cum with me, baby boy.” Your words are ragged, but still, make Jimin react as his breath hitches. This is what sets him over the edge, and he shoves upwards, hipbones digging into your thighs as he fills the condom inside of you, his cock pulsating as he does.

Releasing your grip on his throat, you brace your hand on his chest again for balance as you cum as well, your eyes crossing as your body nearly falls forward at the force, your yelp mixing with the exquisite, breathy sounds Jimin is making.

When the gyration of your hips is too much for both of you, you ease yourself up and off of his lap, toppling onto the mattress next to him. The only sound in the room is your labored breathing as you collect yourselves.

“I missed you. So much,” Jimin finally says. The tone in his words is laced with something different. Something that he’s presented you with before, but this time, it sits heavier in your chest than before. Jimin still has feelings for you - that has never changed from day one together, but you never get into what you feel. Mostly because, your feelings for Jimin are complicated, especially now with a girlfriend in the mix.

In an attempt to change the mood, you roll over and grab your phone, seeing texts from Sunyoung with photos of her and Momo in their lifejackets and the ocean behind them.

“Looks like your sister and girlfriend are enjoying the boat.” You say ‘girlfriend’ in a way that makes Jimin sigh.

“Y/n, I said I was sorry! Seriously I know I should’ve told you about Momo.”

“I’ve never been the other woman with anyone. It feels wrong.” You voice out loud, and you mean it. Remorse that you’ve been causing him to hurt this girl who seems to genuinely like him gnaws at your brain again.

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry okay? This kind of just spiraled out of control and I don’t wanna make excuses for myself, but I just wasn’t thinking right when she asked me out. I was just thinking about you and didn’t wanna lose you.” His expression is serious, matching the certainty in his tone.

“Jimin, I believe you, but if you want me still, you have to break it off with Momo. You shouldn’t just keep her around to be a placeholder.”

“I will! If you want me to, I’ll break up with her. When do you want me to?”

“Uh, I don’t know. When do you think you should?”

Scratching the back of his neck nervously he breaks your gaze, staring at the ceiling.

“Well, uh, I mean I don’t think I should do it while we’re here, I mean that’d be hella awkward wouldn’t it? We just got here and I at least want her to have a good vacation, you know?”

Frowning, you mull his words around in your head. If he breaks up with her now, on day two of vacation, they still have the rest of the week to awkwardly be around each other and your families. He has a point, that maybe he should at least let her enjoy the week before breaking things off.

“I guess so. But does that mean we should stop -”

“Please don’t say that!” Jimin cuts you off. “I just, I can’t go this whole week without kissing or touching you. I’ve already had to wait months to be with you again. I’ll go crazy having you so close and not being able to do anything. I know it’s wrong, but can we please keep being terrible people for just a few more days? I need you.”

Jimin’s distraught, the idea of this being the only time he gets to be in bed with you distressing him.

Against your better judgment (including your conscious which is so loudly reminding you how terrible cheating is) after just a few seconds you break down, agreeing you won’t stay away. You’ve already fooled around for the first six months of his relationship, so what’s another week?

“Fine. But you need to end it with her when you get home, okay?”

“Thank you!” His eagerness makes you laugh. You smile up at him and he returns it tenfold, his eyes disappearing with the gesture.

“Want to take a nap with me before we have to be perceived by our families again?” Jimin jokes, clearly really wishing you’ll say yes.

“Sure, Minie.” He eagerly rolls back over on his back, opening his arm to beckon you over to him. Phone in hand you oblige, helping him take off the used condom first, then snuggling into his embrace.

It’s completely normal to cuddle and sleep with your friend with benefits. You and Jimin have done it before and it doesn’t make things weird. You tell yourself over and over as you drift off.

“Jimin?!” A call of Jimin’s names has both of you jolting up, wide-eyed and alert. “Jimin! The deadbolt is on!” Momo’s voice calls to Jimin from the other side of the hotel door. You and he share one single look before you fling yourselves from the bed, scrambling for your clothes.

He gives you a panicked look as his phone rings from under your shirt, Momo’s picture showing on the screen. You toss him his phone as you pull your bandeau and shirt on, desperately scrounging around for your panties.

“Hello?” He clears his throat when he answers while pulling his shorts up.

“You’re in the room, but you’re not opening the door! I heard your phone.”

“Shit, sorry, I’m in the bathroom, but I’ll be right out.” You’re both clothed then, but the realization that you’re trapped in the hotel room with him with only one way out hits you.

“Hurry up. I want to shower, before dinner.”

“Okay, I’ll only be a few seconds.” He hangs up and looks as though he’s ready to cry.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” you whisper to soothe him. “Look, I’ll get under the bed. When she’s in the bathroom, I’ll make a run for it, okay?”

Pouting, Jimin agrees and he goes to unlock the door as you crawl underneath the hotel bed.

You listen as Momo comes into the room. The sound of them sharing a kiss has your face scrunching in discomfort.

“Ew, Jimin, did you just puke or something? Your face smells weird.” Momo smelling you on her boyfriend makes you both mortified and oddly prideful.

“Huh? Oh! Yeah, I did, sorry. I wasn’t feeling great, but I’m alright now.”

“If you start to feel icky at any point tonight let me know,” she coos at him before walking across the room to the bathroom. “I’m just going to shower then we can get ready and go.” As you’re about to crawl out, you see her feet appear again. Luckily you’re half out on the floor on the side of the bed that she can’t see. “You can join me if you want to of course. We have plenty of time before we have to meet everyone else.” What you presume to be Momo’s tube top falls to the floor and from where you are you can see Jimin gawking at her.

“Yeah. Okay. Let me just um, make sure my phone is charging.”

“M'kay. But don’t leave me waiting.” Her feet disappear into the bathroom again and when you hear the sound of the shower you scurry out and dash across the floor on all fours to get past the bathroom door and to the room door.

Before you sneak out, Jimin leans out to kiss you, not caring that he just did the same to another woman.

“See you at dinner.” He says with a smile. He pokes his head out into the hallway before you, citing it was clear and you slink out, giving him a final kiss before rushing to your room. The shower is running when you enter so you call out to Sunyoung.

“Hey!”

“Y/n? Where were you? I came in and you weren’t here.”

“Oh yeah, I wanted a pre-dinner snack so I went downstairs to grab something. I lost track of time.”

“Answer your phone next time! I know you don’t like boats but I brought you a dolphin shirt anyway!” You glance at the shirt on your bed, another rush of guilt washing over you. Your best friend was thinking about you while she was doing an activity that you were afraid of while you were fucking her brother.

An unpleasant feeling swirls in you as you couple this with nearly getting caught not even five minutes ago and you spend far too long standing in the middle of the room. Should you keep doing this? Is this crushing remorse worth it? You’re conflicted and start to descend into a heavy conversation with yourself when Sunyoung calling your name stops that in its tracks.

“What?” You yell back, louder than intended.

“I asked if you wanted to shower too. I’m almost done.”

“Oh, yeah, I will,” you nod even though she can’t see you. Seeing how you’re still covered in your and Jimin’s sweat from earlier, you realize how gross you feel.

“Alright, I’ll leave the water on!” You get ready for your shower, trying to talk yourself out of the headspace you’re entering. You’ll do some more soul-searching later, but for now, you want to carry on the rest of the evening as if your life is normal. Thoughts of Jimin and what you do with him will have to wait.

Your Jimin thoughts intrude quicker than you wanted them to. When you meet the families downstairs for dinner. Everyone is dressed fairly formally since your parents scheduled a wine tasting after dinner. Jimin and Momo join you and Sunyoung in the elevator and you have to pinch yourself to stop staring at him. Form-fitting black slacks hug his muscular thighs and ass. A black button-down with the sleeves rolled up and the top two buttons undone. You’re convinced he’s doing this on purpose - that he remembers just how much you appreciate it when his clothes fit him just right.

During dinner, your families sit at a large round table and somehow you’ve lucked out sitting across from Jimin. You can’t stop yourself from teasing him, seizing this opportunity to slip your shoe off and rest your foot against his thigh.

He jumps, using the excuse that he felt a chill.

“Maybe if you weren’t walking around with your shirt open like you’re somebody,” Sunyoung snorts.

Jimin sneers at his sister. “I look better than you.”

“In your fucking dreams. Shut up and put your pepperoni nipples away.”

“Fuck off!”

“Hey, both of you shut up!” Mr. Park chides his kids. Both Jimin and Sunyoung shoot each other one last dirty look before Sunyoung turns to talk to you. You do your best to listen and ignore yet another negative wave of emotion rolling over you. That back-and-forth reminds you once again of who Jimin is. You watched him and Sunyoung argue with one another since Jimin was in elementary school. And his dick was in your mouth mere hours ago.

You toss your glass of champagne back, telling yourself as loud as you can to stop. “Stop with so many self-realizations and just enjoy your vacation! It’s only the second night!”

You’re determined to listen to yourself, and you do so through the rest of dinner. Even after that, when your families move to another large room for the wine tasting. You and Sunyoung giggle and chat over glass after glass, focusing on nothing but you and her.

By the end of it, you have a sufficient buzz going, and you’re feeling much better. You go to bed easily, falling asleep in no time with much less stress than you had earlier.

Wine can only do so much for you. You quickly learn as the next few days go by. When you’re not with Sunyoung or with your parents or both families, you’re taking any opportunity to be alone with Jimin. Whether it’s letting him finger you in the stairwell when everyone was spread about the resort or sucking him off in the bathroom while everyone was waiting for their desserts after dinner.

Your time at the resort is only a week, so even though your conscious is beating your ass every time you sneak away, your pussy refuses to listen, only focused on the feeling and the sensation that is Jimin.

The only problem is after you both get what you want, you’re distracted by how terrible you feel afterwards. After sleeping with Jimin as long as you have been, you’ve been able to expertly suppress any negative feelings about what you’re doing. This week has been incredibly trying on you, but you can’t pinpoint why (or, rather, you refuse to acknowledge why).

Is it because this time away was supposed to be about spending time together and having fun with your family, but you’ve only been focusing on getting off? Or is it because you know that after you make Jimin cum, he’s going to sleep next to another woman who may also do the same for him on the same day?

It’s likely to be both of these things, coupled with how long this secret has been festering, but you can’t stop. It’s selfish and it makes you sound as though you have a sex addiction, but your body responds to Jimin in a way that you can’t replicate with anyone else and you crave it, so in a way, you are addicted to him.

You crave it so badly that in between scuba diving and shopping you’re holing up somewhere secret for a quick fuck. You can barely keep track of the lies you’ve told Sunyoung or your parents this week, but you know it’s more than you think you’ve ever lied to the same people in such a short amount of time.

Even with all of the acknowledgment that what you’re doing is wrong and with all the people impacted around you in mind, you still text Jimin on the second to last night of your stay at the resort and tell him to meet you at the jacuzzi outside around midnight.

During the day, both families have a beach day and with everyone staying in the sun most of the day, playing volleyball and frisbee, everyone is more than ready for bed after dinner. Your dad reminds everyone that tomorrow is your last day and therefore will be a family day. Knowing that this may be your last opportunity with Jimin since tomorrow night, you’ll likely be too focused on family and packing to leave the next morning.

You and Sunyoung watch a movie before bed and once it’s over and she’s sound asleep, you creep out of the room, already having put on your bathing suit underneath, and tip-toe into the hallway and to the elevator.

Jimin is already sitting on the edge of the hot tub, shirt off and feet in the bubbling water.

“I didn’t think you’d beat me here,” you chuckle, your voice making him jump.

“Oh! Yeah, Momo went to bed early because she thinks she has food poisoning.”

“And instead of caring for her you’re here with another woman.” You shake this thought away, pulling off your pajamas and watching the way Jimin’s face lights up at the sight of your light blue bikini that leaves so little to the imagination.

You toss your clothes on the pool chair with his things and don’t miss how he watches intently as you step into the hot tub and lower yourself into the water. When you beckon him in with a crook of your finger, he hurries in next to you, his chest pressed against your arm. The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes, watching as the few other couples out for a night swim a few feet away from you go back inside, leaving just you and Jimin outside. The sky is dark, but the stars are shining bright enough that it’s not pitch-black. The outdoor area is equipped with fancy-looking string lights around and the smell of the ocean lingers with how close the resort is.

The whole thing would be romantic if your relationship with Jimin wasn’t what it is.

“Tomorrow’s the last day of vacation.” Jimin mumbles. When you glance at him, his head is reclining against the built-in headrest.

“Yeah, it is. And it’s family day. I think our parents want us to go on a tour or something.”

“We’ll barely be able to spend time together, and tomorrow you’re going to get on a plane and go back to New York.” His words are low and sullen. Each time you’ve been hooking up when you’re together in person, he always gets in a gloomy mood towards the end. He’s happy to be with you but never looks forward to when you leave.

He’s pouting up at the sky, likely too much in his head. To distract him (and yourself to be honest) you shift to turn and place small kisses on his neck. The water lets you easily slot yourself between his legs as you move up to kiss him.

Jimin wraps his arms around your waist pulling you closer, his tongue immediately poking out to rub against your lips. You open your mouth, letting Jimin in, both of you messily making out, your hands grasping at any wet body part you can touch.

The sounds of the night dissolve around you as you melt into Jimin, savoring every clash of teeth and tongue since you may not get much of a chance tomorrow.

When you finally pull away, you press your forehead against his, both of you catching your breath.

“I need you, Y/n,” He juts his hips forward, to emphasize his words, the hardness in his pants knocking into your leg. “Since this could be our last chance for a while.”

Your eyes quickly take in your surroundings. The two of you are still the only ones outside that you can see. Most of the windows overlooking the pool are dark and/or have their curtains pulled tight. Any open curtains are on much higher floors, way too high for anyone to look outside and see what’s going on.

“Fine, but we have to be quick. We don’t want anyone coming outside and seeing us.”

Nodding Jimin agrees, his hands immediately reaching out to grab your waist. He slips a hand easily into your bathing suit bottom, his warm fingers flicking your clit.

“Ah-” Jimin’s lips land on yours, muffling the yell you nearly let out. He keeps kissing you as he picks up the pace, pinching at your bud a few more times before slipping a finger inside of you with ease.

“Gotta stretch you out for me, princess.” Your eyebrows shoot up at the pet name, but you don’t object. Jimin sounds nervous saying it, but your reaction gives him the confidence he needs, his finger moving faster. He brings his thumb up to rub your clit, making you bury your face in his neck to stifle another moan.

Not knowing where to put your hands you decide to pull his swim trunks down enough for his cock to pop out and wrap a hand around him to start stroking him.

“Fuck…” he hisses the word, his fingers slowing down for a second before he recovers to begin again.

The two of you kiss again, spending who knows how long exactly whining into each other’s mouth, working one another up.

You jerk him off rougher, his body shaking against you and he has to grab your wrist to stop.

“I want to cum in you, not in your hand,” Jimin says matter of faculty. “Hang on.” He turns, twisting and stretching his body enough to grab the leg of the chair holding with your things and pull it closer. He digs around in his pant pocket for a second before coming back with a condom.

You let out a snicker, watching him tear it open and roll it on.

“Did you plan to fuck me in the hot tub this whole time?”

Sheepishly he shakes his head. “No, I promise I didn’t! I was just hoping that we would find somewhere to use it. I wasn’t going to be picky where.” He gives you a tiny smile, hoping you still want to go.

“That’s fine…I was going to find somewhere to have you take me too,” you admit.

That’s all the reassurance Jimin needs. His lips are on your neck as he pumps himself underwater.

“Pull your bottoms to the side for me,” he whispers, the huskiness in his voice immediately making you quiver and do as he says.

Jimin’s cockhead grazes your thigh, then your clit, before it breaches your entrance, Jimin bottoming out immediately. Neither of you moves for a moment, letting your walls adjust to him.

Shakily, you tell him to move, and he does, starting slow, the water around you barely rippling. For a better angle, you hop a little with enough force to wrap your legs around his waist. Jimin turns, still inside you, so that your back is against the jacuzzi wall. He uses this new position to move faster, trapping you between his body and the wall.

Soon enough, Jimin stops being gentle, driving his cock into you deeper with each thrust and taking your breath away each time.

“O-oh, fuck, Jimin!” It’s a louder cry than you intend, both of you peeking around, but he doesn’t falter. Once again, he swallows any more of your sounds with his mouth.

“You can cum if you’re quiet, princess.” The mere authoritative tone has your eyes rolling back as you nod your head. You’re so used to being the one that demands, more or less, that you never thought about Jimin taking on that role. You’ll desperately need to let Jimin take the lead more often.

One of Jimin’s hands is still holding under your ass while the other wedges between your bodies to rub your clit again, and you’re already embarrassingly close to cumming.

Whining into his mouth makes both his hand and finger move quicker, pushing you to the end. Mumbling his name, the tight coil in the pit of your stomach snaps, as you cling for dear life to Jimin. Your nails accidentally dig into his shoulder as you do and he hisses in response.

“Y/n..” This time his words are back to a whimper. “So tight around my cock!” Jimin’s fingers dig into your ass and your thigh as he throws his head back body shaking with his own orgasm as he bites down on his bottom lip.

“Yes, come on, Minie, fill me up.” You pepper his neck with kisses as you rock your hips softly, letting him ride out his pleasure.

A few more choked moans slip past his plump lips as he comes down, carefully slipping his softening cock out of you. You kiss once more, the jacuzzi now starting to feel too warm.

“Y/n, I miss you already.”

Smiling, you reach up to brush back his sweaty bangs.

“I’m gonna miss you too you know. This week flew by too fa -”

“Hey! No!” A rush of voices from behind both of you has you leaping apart. Jimin fumbles to tuck himself back into his swim shorts and you have to quickly pull your bikini bottoms back into place.

Two men and a woman dressed in the resort’s employee attire are yelling at you and Jimin as they approach. The woman points to a sign behind you that you hadn’t even noticed. There is a list of things it clearly says you aren’t allowed to do which include not bringing glass drinks to the hot tub, not being naked, and no “inappropriate activities.” Above the sign is a security camera and upon seeing it, embarrassment takes over from head to toe. The fear of them witnessing you and Jimin having sex in the hot tub makes you want to vomit.

“We’re sorry! So sorry!” You and Jimin talk over yourselves, apologizing over and over again.

“Out!” The woman says, beckoning you both to get out of the hot tub and you do without question.

She explains that since you and Jimin broke such an unsanitary rule, the resort will be charging you a clean-up and disinfectant fee. The account that the room is under will be charged. You nearly burst into tears, begging her to pay it upfront since you already know your dad is going to question the additional fee on the receipt. The employee says no, it has to be the card on file. She warns you not to let it happen again or you’ll be banned from the resort - not that you think you’ll even ever return after this.

You attempt to plead to her once more when the sound of the fire alarm going off stops all conversation. She tells you that she will get your name the reservation is under and the room number later, but for now go outside to the front of the resort. You and Jimin hurry into the hotel behind the staff, walking with the crowd of other guests who are going out the front door.

“Y/n!” Sunyoung’s voice cuts through the crowd and fear overcomes you. Pretending you didn’t hear her you weave through everyone, hoping you can hide out in a spot outside where she can’t see you.

Once outside, you and Jimin manage to blend into the crowd, ignoring the looks from everyone at you and Jimin being the only ones in pool attire, seeing how you both forgot your pajamas by the hot tub. You stay behind a palm tree, as all of the guests mill about, waiting for the okay to go back in.

It takes about twenty minutes before they find the alarm to be false and allow everyone to begin going back inside.

“Okay,” you whisper to Jimin, keeping your eyes open for any of your family. “If anyone asks, we can just say that we both happened to go out for a late-night swim at the same time. I’ll say I wanted to get into the jacuzzi before we left.”

“And I’ll just say I couldn’t sleep.” You nod at Jimin, both of you confident that this will pass.

“Y/n!” Sunyoung calls you again, having found you both in the crowd. She grabs your arm, stopping you, and you see Momo and both sets of parents behind her. “I called you when everyone was going outside, but I don’t think you heard me.” She eyes your bathing suit and Jimin’s swim shorts.

“Where were you, Jimin?” Momo asks when she approaches, also inspecting what you both are wearing.

“Oh, I uh, I couldn’t sleep, so I went out to the pool.”

“Yeah,” you cut in. “I went down to get in the jacuzzi before we leave tomorrow and saw Jimin was down there too. Then the fire alarms went off, and a staff member rushed us out before we could grab our clothes.”

Everyone seems to buy this excuse, although Sunyoung is squinting in a manner that tells you she’s replaying the story over in her head, and she may be the only one with obvious reservations.

“Well, let’s go and get your clothes, then try and get back to sleep.” You nod, all set to do as your mom says, and leave this behind. When you file back into the resort with the last few guests, you’re feeling better, completely forgetting that the staff is still intending to finish what was started.

“Hey, excuse me,” An employee you don’t recognize stops you all, and you instantly feel like you’re going to throw up again. “You’re the two that were in the hot tub.” She says it rather than asks. She hands you and Jimin your clothes, frowning as she does so. “What is the name your reservation is under?” She powers up her iPad, waiting to type in what you tell her.

“I’m sorry what’s going on?” Your dad steps in, which you’re thankful for because you’ve forgotten how to formulate sentences.

“Seeing as they broke one of our jacuzzi rules, we need the name of their reservation because they will be charged a fee.”

“Wait, what? They’re in trouble for getting in the hot tub? What, is it closed after midnight or something?”

The staff member assesses the situation, eyeing both your dad then you, and Jimin. Your eyes dart to him and he’s gone paler than you’ve ever seen him. He’s frozen in place and you swear he doesn’t blink.

“These guests-”

“Y/l/n! Room 519!” You blurt, your voice cracking as you say it. The staff member taps away on her screen. “I’ll pay you back, dad.” You promise, hoping that he’ll leave it at that.

“Now, hold on, I could swear the pool area is open twenty-four hours. What the hell am I getting charged for?”

“Yeah, who’d they hurt by swimming at night?” Your Mr. Park chimes in. Every word that’s spoken around you sounds like white noise creeping in slowly. This isn’t going to end the way you want it to. This isn’t going to be the end of it. You’re not going to go back upstairs and go to sleep then go through tomorrow as normal. It’s as clear as day that this is where things go to shit.

“Please, calm down. Our pool and jacuzzis are indeed twenty-four hours, but we have a no inappropriate activity rule in our public spaces and these guests broke that rule. It was addressed and they were told not to let it happen again, but we still have to charge an additional sanitation fee.”

“What? Inappropriate activity? What does that even mean?” Tears well up in your eyes as Mrs. Park looks between you and Jimin.

“Y/n,” Your mom says at the same time, gingerly placing her hand on your shoulder. When you turn to look at her she’s frowning in a way that tells you she knows exactly what that means.

“Mom,” Jimin whispers, urging the conversation to end. The staff member spares you and your families one final look before turning and walking off, leaving eight of you standing in the middle of the lobby in silence, save for your sniffles.

With your stomach twisted in knots, you run to the stairs, deciding that crawling up seven flights of stairs is better than standing with everyone doing nothing. You’re huffing and puffing when you reached your floor and take time to catch your breath, pulling your pajamas on, extremely relieved that the room keycard and your phone are still in your short pockets.

It’s quiet as you walk past rooms to your own. You stop in front of Jimin’s door and press your ear to the wood. You can’t hear exactly what they’re saying, but you can hear raised volumes and fast-talking. In front of your door, it’s quiet, but you’re sure Sunyoung is on the other side, most likely seething.

Stepping inside the room, you see her going around the room tossing her things into her suitcase. When she sees you, she freezes, holding your gaze for a few seconds before wordlessly going back to what she’s doing. If you know Sunyoung, which you do, you know she’s formulating how to tell you off. Cautiously, you go to sit on your bed and see that she’s packing your suitcase.

“What are you doing?” You question softly, to not stir her up.

“Packing your shit. You’ll be staying in the room Jimin and Momo are in, and Momo is coming here. We figure since you and Jimin want so badly to be together, then you may as well share a room.”

“Sunyoung, let me explain.” Tossing your complimentary robe and slippers in the suitcase, she stops and crosses her arms.

“Please do, since apparently, you’ve never explained any of this to me before.” She’s simmering, but you continue.

“I didn’t tell you about us because I thought you’d be mad. Knowing your best friend has been sleeping with your little brother is weird, and I figured it’d upset you.”

“You’re right, it would, and it is weird, but you know what, that was the second reason I was pissed when I just found out. I was even madder to know that you’d been lying to me the whole trip! All these excuses about being tired and shit were just so you can get into my brother’s pants! Admit it!”

“Yes. I lied all those times, and I’ve been lying to you about us.” Saying the words out loud has you tearing up again.

“How could you not tell me?! Yes, I would’ve gagged and made fun of you guys for eternity, but Y/n, come on! You’re my closest and best fucking friend! If there’s anyone I’d want my brother with, it’d be someone I trust with my life because I know that she’d never hurt him. I would’ve gotten over it, but I’m pissed right now!” She stomps her foot, also looking close to tears, but you know hers are full of anger.

“Did you even come on this vacation to see me?” Her lip quivers and you jump up to hug her, but she puts her hand out to stop you.

“Sun, I’m sorry, I was just scared, okay? I was scared of being judged and your parents hating me.”

“You know, Y/n. You always do this thing where you assume how other people will feel without talking to them. Like that time in middle school where you were changing algebra classes because the teacher hated you but you kept it from me because you thought I’d be mad even though I knew how much she sucked.”

“That’s one time and I was trying to be considerate.”

“And then remember when Joshua asked you out in 11th grade and you didn’t say anything about it until I overheard him telling his friends you rejected him.”

“I knew you liked him! I didn’t want to upset you and make you mad at me!”

“See! You always just assume the worst of how I feel and you keep shit from me. Not only is this the longest-running thing you’ve hidden, but it’s about my damn brother!”

In all honesty, you never realized you had a bad habit of doing this until this moment. It’s always good-natured, but having Sunyoung chronicle your behavior has you rethinking.

“Sun, listen, I’m sorry, okay? I truly didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Well, you did. And you also hurt Momo - both you and Jimin did. She’s a really sweet girl and she treats Jimin well. I’m pissed at both of you.”

You want to say something else, but a knock on the door has you halting. Sunyoung goes to open it and you see Momo on the other side holding her bags. Her red eyes don’t meet yours as she gives Sunyoung the key in her hand and disappears into the bathroom.

“Give me your keycard.” Sunyoung demands and you don’t argue. She takes the card for this room and gives you, what you presume, the card for Jimin’s room. Wordlessly, she walks over and zips your suitcase up, placing it on the floor and sliding it over to you.

“Maybe we’ll talk tomorrow,” you try on your way to the door.

She just shrugs and climbs into her bed, eyes blankly looking at the tv as she turns it on. Clearly, the conversation is very much over right now. You give the room a once over and leave, defeated and tired.

The keycard she traded you, is, in fact, the key to Jimin’s room. When you walk in he’s already in bed, under the covers, and nothing but a lump.

“Jimin?” You call quietly but get no response. Unsure if he’s truly sleeping or pretending, you say his name again and get nothing.

Rolling your eyes, you leave your suitcase to the side and decide to just go to bed. You’ll deal with Jimin in the morning, but for now, it’s much too late to still be awake.

Knocks on your room door startle you awake. Jimin isn’t next to you, and the bathroom across the room is dark. Bleary-eyed, you get up and open the door, your mom on the other side. She gives you what seems to be a sympathetic once over and tells you to get ready and that everyone is already up and getting ready.

Jimin waking up and leaving you behind stings, but you bury that as you carry on with a lightning-speed shower and get changed.

Downstairs, your parents and Mr. and Mrs. Park greet you, but no one else. Neither Momo nor Sunyoung pay you any mind and Jimin doesn’t return your greeting. The two women you expected, but why the hell is Jimin icing you out?

He doesn’t say anything on the ride there, but it’s expected with everyone around. All of you pile onto a bus with other tourists, waiting to be driven around the city and shown the sights.

When you arrive at the first destination and you try to speak to Jimin, he conveniently turns to engage with his mom who quickly strikes up a conversation with him, successfully squashing your attempt.

It’s even clearer he’s purposely avoiding you by your third stop after he successfully manages to avoid any chance you will try to confront him. With both him and your best friend ignoring your existence, you feel like utter shit. You do your best not to let it show as the day wears on, mustering up enough willpower to pretend to be interested in the structures and sights, taking pictures you barely put care into snapping. A few other tourists in the group talk to you and even though you want nothing more than to stew alone, you engage.

The day drags on hour by hour until it’s the end of the day and your tour guide takes everyone to a restaurant near the resort for dinner. Your group of eight settles next to the other tables of the tour group and starts placing orders with waiters. Sunyoung knocks back drink after drink and at some point in the night the alcohol finally catches up with her.

“Mrs. Y/l/n, can you pass me the chips?” She points to the basket that’s sitting between you and your mom. “I’d ask Y/n, but she’ll probably lie about why she can’t give them to me.” Silence in the group until her comment catches up to you.

“Oh come on, Sunyoung.”

“Come on what? You lie. It’s what you do. Or wait you’ll lie about not giving them to me and say it’s because you thought I would think they are gross without even letting me try!”

“Sunyoung, I said I was sorry! Sorry for lying and assuming how you’d feel. This time and apparently every other time I’ve done it.”

Sunyoung leaps up, pointing at you. “You didn’t apparently do shit, I’m telling you you’ve done it!”

“Sunyoung…” Her mom warns, but she stays standing, hands on her hips.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” you start, trying to keep your voice down. “I’m sorry for lying and sleeping with your brother and not telling you!”

“You should be! Jimin has always gone out of his way to talk about you and I should’ve known something was weird but I was too stupid to pick it up I guess. Why else would he always bring up my friend more than me.” You and Jimin share a brief look before he averts his eyes. You never imagined he’d talk about you when you weren’t around. You swallow the urge to ask what he’s said.

“And I can’t believe you’ve been sleeping with my best friend!” Sunyoung yells, pointing at him. “You’re my brother and you didn’t tell me!”

“How was I supposed to tell you?! You would’ve thought it was weird!”

“Everyone stop fucking telling me how I’d feel!” Sunyoung shrieks and everyone in the restaurant turns to look at your table, getting quiet.

“Park Sunyoung, that is enough!” Her dad bellows. Fists still clenched, she plops into her seat with no retort.

“Truly,” you begin. “I am sorry. I didn’t mean to lie, and I know apologies don’t change what I did, but just know I can’t say sorry enough.” You turn to your parents and the Parks. “And I’m sorry to you guys for ruining our vacation. I did want to see everyone and have a good time, but then I messed it up by being selfish, I didn’t plan on fucking up everything the way I did. And Momo, I’m sorry for sleeping with your boyfriend. I didn’t -”

You don’t get to finish your apology, because before anyone can stop her, Momo rises from her seat, grabs her drink, and throws it at you on the other side of the table.

Everyone freezes, including any other guests that saw.

“Momo!” Jimin gasps, but for him, she snatches up the large bowl of salsa in the middle of the table and dumps it over his head. She’s storming out of the restaurant before anyone can stop her.

Sunyoung, watching both you and Jimin in horror, decides to stumble out of her seat and follow her out. The rest of you don’t say anything else, but your mom helps blot at your clothes while Jimin’s mom helps him wipe his hair.

Shame washes over you as the other tourists and restaurant patrons whisper about your group and what happened. You deserve this. Sure, you wanted nothing more than to run outside and kick Momo’s ass, and normally you would, but in this situation, you can't deny that you deserve it. So you stew in the nauseous, anxious feeling in your stomach and the way tears are oh so close to slipping. It feels very much like public shaming and you wouldn’t say you didn’t have it coming.

The ride back to the resort after dinner is nothing compared to the one this morning. The bus is stifling, the air thick with aggression and weariness. Momo is the first out when you arrive, stomping into the building and far from everyone. Wordlessly, Sunyoung follows her, then Jimin. You’re left to ride in the elevator with the parents alone, clothes uncomfortable and sticky. Just as you think you may burst into tears at the sheer embarrassment, Mr. Park speaks up.

“Y/n, we want to let you know we’re not as upset about this as Sunyoung.” You’re shocked truth be told, but let him go on. “Last night’s erm, incident, was shocking, but you and Jimin are both adults. Cheating is wrong in any aspect, and don’t get wrong, we’re extremely disappointed in you both for it.”

“And for lying to everyone,” Mrs. Park chimes in.

“Right, and lying to everyone. But we appreciate your apology. It seemed genuine, so just know we’re not upset with you.”

“Besides, if there’s any girl we’d want Jimin to be with it’s you. We don’t trust anyone else.”

They both give you reassuring smiles, and you let a few tears slip. You appreciate their forgiveness, but you feel as though you don’t deserve it. You voice this, but they assure you they’re not mad. Shocked and annoyed initially, yes, but they again voice that you’re all adults and can work through what you need to.

Your mom reaches out to hug you, wiping your tears. You say goodnight to both sets of parents, your dad saying he loves you then reminding everyone that all of your flights are at eleven. You all plan to ride to the airport together and say your goodbyes there. It doesn’t seem likely that the goodbyes will be what he has in mind, but it feels refreshing to know that at least you have people still supporting you in the mess you and Jimin made.

When you enter the room, Jimin is sitting on the edge of the sofa in the room, head in his hands. He looks up when you shut the door, the expression on his face unreadable. You plop on the couch next to him, and he doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t run away from you.

“Are you gonna tell me why you’ve been ignoring me all day?”

“Everyone hates us.” Is his response.

“Our parents don’t hate us.”

“Yeah, I know, I talked to them this morning when I got up. But they were disappointed. And Sunyoung is so fucking pissed. And I know Momo definitely hates me. She broke up with me last night.”

“Well yeah, you’re probably right about her.” You put a joking lift to your tone, hoping it’ll ease some of the tension, but it doesn’t. Instead, Jimin whips around to look at you; his expression is grim.

“I should’ve said no. I should’ve stayed in the room.” The way he says this makes your throat feel tight for some reason.

“Well shit, sorry I asked.” Your words are sarcastic, but your chest feels heavy.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have. Maybe we should’ve just had a regular vacation with our families and not did… what we did. I have a girlfriend, Y/n.” His last words are accusatory and you gape at him.

“Yeah, I know you have a girlfriend. You know you have a girlfriend and yet you still fucked me this entire week. Hell, you knew you had a girlfriend for the last six months and still hit me up begging for tit pics any chance you got.”

A blush breaks out across Jimin’s face in embarrassment and shame. “Because I can’t fucking stay away from you! I can’t stop seeing you and hearing your voice and touching you, and talking to you. I can’t say no to you, Y/n! I’ve never been able to!”

You stand, looking at him incredulously. “There’s no way you’re trying to blame me for this whole thing. There's absolutely no fucking way.”

“You know how I feel! You know how I feel, yet you never want to commit. Whenever I bring it up, you change the subject or end the conversation. That makes me feel like shit, Y/n!”

“Jimin, we had a good, casual thing going. I thought it worked for both of us.”

“It works for you, Y/n. I deal with it because I want to have you any way I can, and since you won’t let it be romantic, I’ll take it physically.”

You blink at him, mind moving a mile a minute. “Jimin, do you think now is the time to get into this? Shouldn’t we be worried about your sister forgiving us and talking to us again?”

With a huff, Jimin jumps up. “When Sunyoung wants to, she will. You know how stubborn she is and that there’s nothing we can do until she feels like giving us the time of day.” He steps closer to you, looking as if he’s contemplating reaching out to touch you. “Y/n, can you just tell me how you feel about me? Clearly, you’re into me in some way, but how do you actually feel?”

“I -” Words catch in your throat as you struggle to formulate a response.

You know you’re impossibly attracted to Jimin. That’s a given. He’s sweet and loves making you laugh. Before everything on this vacation went to shit, he always went out of his way to make everyone, but especially you, laugh at something he says or does. Jimin is kind and so gentle; possibly one of the most considerate people you’ve ever met. In that same breath, you can also call him bratty and a little spoiled, but even then it’s endearing and it still makes him who he is.

Jimin is artistic and passionate. He loves dancing and has always been gifted at it. He’s done dance covers online for years and is always entering competitions and predictably winning said competitions. He didn’t get into the school he applied to in New York, but he goes to school near home because he’s so determined to fulfill his dreams. You admire him for staying so dedicated and working to do what he loves.

The list of things you like about Jimin goes on but you can’t seem to say the words to him. Everything is just wrong right now and the idea of vocalizing and admitting to him (and yourself) that maybe you feel more about Jimin than you should.

“I don’t think we should do this right now, Jimin.”

He stares at you hard, his eyes scanning yours, searching for anything else. “Forget it, Y/n. It’s clear we’ve just been wasting each other’s time.” He finally says. Dumbly, you stand there as Jimin grabs a pillow from the bed and storms out without another word. You scream in your head, scolding and shaming yourself for not saying something, but you can’t get anything to come out that will make a difference.

Without another word he’s gone, slamming the hotel door behind him. Silently, you shower and get ready for bed, making sure all of your belongings are packed. The room is hauntingly quiet and the bed is cold as you lie there alone, your brain full of so many different things you want to say and think and do, yet somehow, you doze off before you muster the motivation or courage to do anything else.

You’re up and out of bed before the sun has barely risen. While you were able to doze, that’s all you did. No deep restful sleep and barely any dreams. Just bathroom breaks and staring at the ceiling. Jimin never came back to the room, as the bed is still empty when you get up.

After brushing your teeth and washing your face you’re out the door. Standing in front of your parent’s room you go back and forth. You don’t want to wake them up but you’d feel even worse than you do if you left without saying goodbye.

Taking a breath, you knock, deciding having them be a little tired later is better than fleeing in complete and total cowardice.

Your mom is the one who answers, yawning widely in her pajamas and slippers.

“Y/n?”

“Hey, mom, I’m sorry to wake you guys up.”

“What’s going on?” Bleary-eyed, she eyes your bags, frowning more.

“I’m gonna head out for the airport. I don’t need to stick around.”

“What? Y/n it’s…” she cranes her neck around to the closed room curtains seeing barely any semblance of the sun peeking around. “It’s so early.”

“I know, but I just want to go home. I’m exhausted.”

“You didn’t sleep well?”

“Mom…I just wanted to say bye.” She must hear the utter defeat in your words and pick up why you want to disappear because it only takes her a few seconds to relent. She calls into the dark room to wake your dad, who eventually drags himself out of bed to join at the door.

He puts up much less of, a fight, cutting you slack and simply bidding you goodbye. You exchange hugs and ‘I love yous’ and they easily let you walk away with a promise to text them when you arrive at the airport and when you make it home safely.

You wince at the lump in your throat, willing yourself not to cry. You’ve held the bulk of it in for the entire trip and refuse to give up yet.

The universe cuts you some slack when you get to the lobby to hand in your key. None of the staff members that caught you and Jimin are there, thankfully. Only a different team who all thank you for coming and wish you safe travels.

As you get into the shuttle van and settle, you take one last look at the resort. Realizing just how hyperfocused on Jimin you’ve been since day one, you had no time to appreciate the large, bustling building. The white marble and aqua blue curtains in all of the windows pair well together, looking both expensive and upscale. You wish you could’ve taken in more of the look of your room and the inside, but your mind only plays memories of everything that has taken place over the past week on a loop.

The ride to the airport and getting through it to your gate seems to go rather quickly; a stark difference from how it all seemed to drag when you had arrived at the beginning of the week. Once you’re settled in and waiting to board the sun is higher in the sky. A glance at your watch tells you it’s after 6 am and you imagine that your parents are still just getting up if they were able to get back to sleep.

Before boarding, you send them a text, along with a long heartfelt text to the Park parents, apologizing again. Both of their kids hate you at this point and it’s your fault so you want them to know how sorry you are again and how much you still care about them as if they are your own parents. They reiterate what they did in the elevator, leaving you with the reassurance you desperately need.

Your phone was devoid of a single call or text from Jimin or Sunyoung for the rest of the day. Silence from them turned into two days, then four, five, then three weeks, rolling into a month. The desire to reach out to them is strong, but if there’s one thing the Park siblings are, is stubborn. Having gotten into your fair share of disagreements with your best friend, you know that she’s the type of person that comes to you when she’s ready. Unsurprisingly, Jimin was the same way. You’ve heard plenty of complaints about fights with his friend over the years so you know he definitely picked up his temper from his older sister.

Even so, a month of silence felt like a year. You and Sunyoung would, at times, go weeks without talking because life gets in the way, but on top of this being your most serious fight, it was also the longest you’ve gone without speaking in some form. Added on the reason why you’re not talking and this silent treatment truly hurts.

But still, you do your best to accept that they both need time. And frankly, you do as well. Time to decide completely, what it is you want from Park Jimin.

Truly, you try your best to wait them out, but you don’t make it another two weeks before you break down and whip open your phone contacts.

You’re home after a long day of work and even as you try to relax on your couch, all you think about is Sunyoung and Jimin. A month and a half is the longest you’ve gone without talking to either of them. With Sunyoung though, it hurt more. The fear that you may lose your closest and most important friend, keeps eating away at you and you can’t take it anymore.

Along with the near-crippling guilt of hurting your best friend, is the pain of hurting Jimin. Taking the time since you’ve been home to yourself has given you time to sort your shit out. Sticking to nothing but work and errands, you kept to yourself this whole time to avoid the opinions and thoughts of others.

The solitude has helped you conclude what you’ve probably always known: you like Jimin. You like Park Jimin as more than a steady, casual hook-up. You want to date Jimin and call him your boyfriend and learn everything there is to know about him that you don’t already know.

You have to tell both he and Sunyoung that you want to fix things, and it can’t wait anymore.

Opening your texts with Sunyoung, your fingers hover over the text box. A wall of text seems impersonal. Briefly considering voice memos, you decided against that too, knowing you have too much to say to keep it brief. A social media DM is just silly and out of the question, and you’re terrified of hitting the call button and getting a swift rejection.

With a deep breath, you open your camera app, flip it to selfie mode, and decide this is the right way. A video is the easiest way for them to hear you and see you while also giving them a chance to pause your words when they need to and time to formulate their responses.

Hitting the record button, you work to get your thoughts in order.

“Hey, Sun. I miss you. I know it’s hollow, but I do. I fucked up. I said I was sorry already, but please know that I will say it as much as you want me to. I’ll do anything to make you not hate me anymore. You’re the closest to a sister I’ve ever had and I don’t want to lose you. I promise I’ll do whatever you want me to do to prove how sorry I am. And I won’t keep anything from you anymore and claim to know what you’ll think or say about decisions I make that impact you. Please know I love you and won’t keep secrets anymore. That’s why I want to tell you first that I…” you falter, willing yourself to say it.

“I like your brother. I like like your brother and I’m going to tell him. I wanted you to know first. You’re my platonic soulmate and I don’t wanna keep doing this shitty thing called life without you. You can take all the time you need, I’ll wait until you’re ready to deal with me again, but I do hope it’s soon.” You give the camera a weak smile before ending the video.

With a sniffle, you go back to your messages with Sunyoung, counting to three before you attach the video and send it. Once you see the small ‘delivered’ message under the video you flee from the screen. Sunyoung’s read receipts are on and you don’t think you can handle seeing her in real-time see the message.

More internal prep is done before you hit the record button again to start Jimin’s video. “Jimin, hey. Uh, I don’t know how to start this really, so I’m just gonna tell you that I’m sorry again. I’m sorry for stringing you along the way I have and I’m sorry for influencing you to cheat. I just couldn’t stand seeing you with someone else that isn’t…isn’t me.” You falter at the end but keep going. “I know that I keep derailing any talk of us being together for real and I’m sorry. I just really didn’t have a handle on how I felt about you. Or, at least I thought I didn’t. Maybe I was in denial because we started so secretive and I was truly so scared of what your sister would think so I kept pushing it away and in turn, trying to push all of my feelings for you away, but it didn’t work and I was just so shitty to you.”

Pausing to take a deep breath, you close your eyes, attempting to calm your beating heart. “So you asked me how I feel and the answer is that I like you. I like you a lot Jimin. I have so much fun when I’m with you and I mean that in so many ways. I’m so comfortable with you and I feel so safe and happy and I’m sorry I haven’t made you feel like that. You’re such an amazing and good person and you deserve the world and more. I don’t know if that’s me since I’ve fucked up so much already, but please know I’m ready and I’ll wait for however long you need me to. I know now that I want you as more than someone I sleep with. I want all parts of you, Jimin, and I just hope you can forgive me somehow.”

Once that video is sent, you close your messaging app and toss your phone aside to get ready for bed. It’ll surely take them time to watch the videos and decide when and how to respond. After leaving yourself open and vulnerable, you go about your evening, trying to chase away the itch to cling to your cell phone.

The self-control you’ve been trying to adhere to dissipates as after two days with no response, you’re scrambling to check your text messages. Jimin’s message was delivered, so you know he didn’t block you, but you can only hope he’s watched it. The grey ‘read’ under your video to Sunyoung taunts you. She’s at least opened the message but has said nothing about it so you’re still left wondering what’s next.

A glance at your watch tells you that you have another hour before you clock out. Believe it or not, spontaneity isn’t typically your thing, and yet you’re feeling a sense of urgency you’ve never felt. Both Jimin and Sunyoung decided not to respond and at this point, you’re in desperate need to know what they think and how they feel and the urge to see them in person is what fuels your next move.

A one-way ticket back home for a flight tomorrow is nearly $500 and that price makes you choke, but you seriously toy with the idea. Since it’s Friday you can fly out tomorrow morning and make it there by the afternoon. From what you remember, neither Jimin nor Sunyoung works on Saturday and even if they do, you can just wait for them at home. You just hope that you’re not turned away when you get there and that the trip won’t be for nothing.

After clocking out and shutting down your work laptop, you open up the app on which you were eyeing the tickets. You bite at a hangnail, the decision stressing you out with each passing moment. Even if they did turn you away and want nothing to do with you, you can at least see your parents again. Plus, if you bring your laptop, you can always work from home still.

Pacing back and forth, you move to complete the booking, packing on your mind but the buzzer of your building sounds indicating a guest stops you from checking out. Pocketing your phone, you move to the callbox to answer, anticipating one of your friends on the other end, but it’s no one from the city.

“Er, hi Y/n. Can me and my sister come up?”

Jimin. Jimin’s voice is coming from the callbox downstairs. Outside of your building.

“Jimin? You’re with Sunyoung?” You ask, hoping you haven’t fallen asleep and are dreaming.

“Yeah. We want to talk to you. Can you let us in?” Nodding, even though he can’t see you, you buzz them in and sprint to the front door to watch for them through the peephole.

Sure enough, in a matter of minutes, Jimin’s gorgeous face comes into focus. Sunyoung is behind him, expression either tired or annoyed - you can’t quite tell.

The door is open before they can knock and then you’re all standing there, eyeing one another hesitantly.

“Well, can we come in?” Sunyoung demands more than asks and you hurry to move aside and let them into your apartment.

They’re both wheeling medium-sized suitcases behind them and Sunyoung leaves hers by the door as she walks around silently, taking in the studio around her while Jimin stands awkwardly in your living room.

The question as to why they’re in front of you right now nags at you, and it’s the first question you finally blurt out.

“We got your videos,” Jimin says first. “We talked to each other and then decided we needed to just fly out.”

“This whole thing is too dramatic and chaotic to do all over the phone so I didn’t wanna bother.”

Jimin rolls his eyes at his sister’s brashness. “Our parents helped us pay to get out here and we’re here for the week to fix things with you. We had time to think and talk to each other about the whole thing when she finally let me explain myself to her. I told her every way I could that we didn’t intend to hurt her.”

You nod furiously, agreeing with him. “Truly, we didn’t do it with ill intent and we didn’t not tell you because we thought it’d be fun to keep it a secret! It just kept going on and we’d sneak around more and then it just became the norm.”

“Yeah, Jimin told me all that. I was just mad because two of the most important people to me were hiding something from me and it felt so shitty. I love you both a lot, you know. Don’t keep any secrets from me ever again.”

“We won’t, I promise! I’m so sorry again, Sun. I probably sound like a broken record with how much I’m apologizing but I mean it.” You hold your breath, waiting to see her reaction. She moves first, crossing the room to catch you off guard in a hug.

“I already accepted Jimin’s apology at home so I accept yours too. I also think I overreacted by being as pissed off as I was. I let my bad temper get the best of me and I’m sorry too.” She pulls away but keeps her arms around you, fixing you with a hard stare. “Also, shitty stubborn asshole or not, just know I’d never let this ruin two decades of friendship. If Jimin hadn’t broken me down and told me to get over myself I may have just ignored everyone for like another few weeks or so and then got over it. I realized I was starting to miss you too.” Her features soften at the end of her words, finally giving you a sunny smile and pulling you in for a hug again.

Relief fills you, knowing that your best friend still wants you in her life.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Sun.”

“I don’t know what you’d do either,” she jokes, the two of you hug and share a laugh.

The sound of Jimin clearing his throat nearby breaks the moment. You’d momentarily forgotten he was standing by. Sunyoung’s eyes dart between the two of you. She moves away first, grabbing her large overnighter bag from the floor.

“Anyway, I’m gonna shower and get the plane germs off me. The two of you can have your little make-up scene. Pretend I’m not even here.” You point her to the bathroom, and she ducks into it, but not before popping her head out once more. “But maybe don’t pretend that hard and start fucking or something. At least wait until I’m out of the building completely!” She slams the door shut behind her, and you hear the shower creak to life.

Hesitantly, you turn your attention to Jimin who’s looking out of your window to the city below.

“Nice view.” You speak first, sarcasm in your voice as you try to ease the tension.

“Huh?” Jimin blinks as if he’d been lost in thought.

“I said the view is nice, but I was just kidding, is all.” The view of the alleyway between you and the building next to you is less than stellar.

Jimin stares at you for a few seconds before looking out the window.

“Okay, Jimin, I-”

“You know I shouldn’t even be here.” He cuts you off and you let him, biting your lips together to let him kick this awkward conversation off.

“A lot of the time, I felt like you’ve just been using me for sex. You knew I’ve been into you since the first day I met you and you still refused to give me more than sexting and quickies. I should’ve stopped letting you have that part of me a while ago, but I couldn’t. I couldn't stop thinking about you or missing you, or wanting you. Anyway you’d have me and whatever I could get from you I'd take. It sounds toxic and I sound pathetic, but I can’t help it. I even selfishly dated a girl to pretend she could fill the void I only wanted you to be in.” Jimin looks at you again, and the conflicted, hurt look on his features is easy to read. The guilt twists in your gut, realizing just how much emotional turmoil you’ve put Jimin through.

“You’re right. I knew how you’ve felt about me all this time, but honestly, I don't think I took your feelings that seriously, especially not for most of the time knowing you. I guess I just always thought it was always just a childhood crush and nothing more and then when I realized you did feel much more than that for me, I didn’t even think about doing anything more than hooking up. I put my fear of judgment and my pleasure over your real, genuine feelings and I can’t say how sorry I am.”

“I want to be with you, but I need you to be sure you want this, that you want me for more than sex.”

“I do!”

“And I don’t wanna be a pity date or anything. I can’t be.” Jimin’s voice breaks at the same time as your heart. You want so badly to reach out to him, but you don’t. The ball is in Jimin’s court and he can call all of the next shots.

“You won’t be! I mean it Jimin, I want everything with you. I want the dates and the good morning texts and the cuddles that don’t lead to sex. I want to call you and talk about our days and the things that make us upset and I want to say you’re my boyfriend and create memories together. Memories we can cherish and look back on during all of our anniversaries. I want all of you, I truly do.”

Jimin is frozen in his spot, mind reeling at your words. It’s your first time finally admitting your feelings for him, so you can't fault how hesitant he seems. You’re both silent for the next few seconds only the shower running and the air conditioning unit in the window are heard.

“Okay. I’ll let you in again. I’ll trust you.” He approaches you and the urge to meet him halfway takes over. Warmth envelopes every nerve in your body when your bodies meet.

“I’ll prove that you can trust me. Your heart is safe with me.” Jimin pulls you into a kiss, unlike any of the countless kisses you’ve shared. This one has your lips tingling, your heart racing, and your blood pumping in your ears. The kiss feels like forgiveness and comfort and an overwhelming sense of something close to love.

You let Jimin’s arm trap you against his broad chest, his heart beating like crazy underneath your palms. This feels like your first real kiss and you vow to get so many more like this. You don’t deserve the endless kindness that Park Jimin has but you mean it; you’ll do everything in your power to prove to yourself and him that you’re serious about this relationship.

Jimin and Sunyoung decide to stay in the city for the rest of the week, the three of you making your studio work. Sunyoung makes a compromise, pushing her brother to buy her noise-canceling headphones so she can at least not have a chance of hearing anything the two of you do in your bed, which isn’t a lot, considering his sister is a few feet away. Still, it’s enough to make up for your lost time not communicating.

You take them around the city, the three of you doing your best to compensate for all the missed opportunities you didn’t get to spend on vacation as a trio. Spending just a week with two of your most important people makes you terribly homesick as you want more than anything to go back home to see them more, just like before you all got older and drifted away.

Your heart both leaps and aches each time you swap a story with them or share a bout of laughter, the thought of not seeing either of them for who knows how long after this week is up weighing on you. More than anything, you realize that once Sunyoung and Jimin are back home, you’ll be left here on the other coast, all alone again with a mediocre job in a mediocre apartment without a real, trustworthy support system.

These thoughts swirl in your mind still on the last night of the week that they’re with you. They’re so prevalent, that you can’t hold it in anymore and blurt out what’s been on the tip of your tongue, in the middle of your anime marathon.

“I want to move back home.” Both siblings whip around to look at you. Sunyoung snatches the remote to pause the tv.

“What?”

“Well, spending time with both of you has reinforced just how lonely I am in the city. I moved out here for school and that fell through, then I scrambled to find roommates who were nice, but I hated living with them. Then I scraped together enough money to move in here, and, I’m just not happy. I don’t have anyone I’m super close with and if I’m not at home or in the office working then I’m getting food alone and shopping alone, with the occasional club or concert with some people I call acquaintances and that’s it. I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want everyone to know what a mistake I made but I did and I’ve regretted it for a while.”

Your voice cracks as you go on, but the weight of your confession quickly lifts from your shoulders. Keeping this truth has been such a burden, but it finally feels like now is the time to admit it and you’re so happy you did.

Both Jimin and Sunyoung listen to you and share a look over your shoulder.

“When’s your lease up here?” Jimin asks first.

“Uh, I don’t remember, maybe 6 months or something?”

“Well, that’s 6 months to figure out how we’re getting all your stuff to California.”

“And,” Sunyoung adds. “That’s 6 months to figure out where we’ll live!” You give her a questioning look and she laughs. “Of course, we’re moving in together, Y/n!” She leaves no room for arguments, not that you mind.

“I’m sure we can find a nice two-bedroom apartment somewhere.”

“No fair! What about me?!” Jimin whines, making you roll your eyes endearingly.

“You still live on campus and have another year doing so. Plus, I’d prefer to date more before we move in. But it’s not like you won't have a key.”

Your boyfriend pouts still but sighs in agreement.

The three of you end up talking more about possible parts of California to live in before heading to bed, reveling in the feeling of Jimin’s arms around you for the last time for a few months.

“Okay, so I’ll canvas some spots and let you know. If I find anything good, we can video chat as I do a tour, or I’ll record places for you, cool?”

“And once you decide on a moving company, I’ll help pay to get them to bring your stuff. I don’t want you traveling across the country alone, okay?”

“Yes, yes, I’ll handle any logistics over here and will keep you both posted. And again, do not tell my parents yet! I’ll tell them closer to the move-out.”

Sunyoung reaches for you first, hugging the life out of you. “I’m so excited to have you home!”

“Me too!” Once she eventually decides to give her brother a chance to say goodbye, she excuses herself, making up a reason to go check a flight board off to the side.

“I’m gonna miss you, you know. Even more than before, which I didn’t even know was possible.” Jimin’s words make you feel giddy. After doing nothing but hooking up for so long, this week has been so different. Sure, you still couldn’t keep your hands off one another, but it was more than that now. Your time together was soft and easygoing. You both had been so used to fast and hushed, but you easily fell into a sense of comfort and relaxation with Jimin as your boyfriend. Things made sense when you were with him and it felt like the very thing you’d been missing for so long. You can’t wait to spend as much time as possible with him.

“You better text me when you land. I need to know you made it there safe.”

“I can do that. And you better do the same. I need your Uber driver’s info and all of that.”

“Of course.”

The two of you stand hand in hand, taking in each other’s features for as long as you can.

“We gotta get through security now, Min.” Sunyoung interrupts and jerks her head in the direction they need to go.

Jimin gives his sister a nod before turning back to you. He lets go of your hands, moving to gently cup your face, and leans down to meet your lips. Electricity shoots through you at the sensation of Jimin’s soft lips. You inhale his cozy, fresh scent, wishing you could bottle it to keep forever (but since you can’t, the t-shirt he left on your bed will suffice).

“Can’t wait until you get home. I’ll miss you.” He whispers against your mouth.

“Miss you too.”

With another quick peck, he’s gone then, running after his sister who yells her goodbyes over her shoulder.

You watch until Jimin’s red hair disappears into the crowd and once you’re sure they’re both gone, you turn towards the escalator to leave the airport. As you’re waiting for your Uber, your phone buzzes as Jimin’s name pops up on the screen.

You scoff at the text.

Jimin’s three simple hearts make your stomach flutter. You too can barely wait for the next six months to go by, but you’ll be counting the days until you can see your best friend again. And her brother, of course.

#jimin x reader #jimin smut #park jimin #jimin fanfic #jimin angst #bts fanfic #bts x reader #clubjimin #btsghostie #bangtanarmynet #bangtansorciere #bangtanbathhouse #btsdreamcourt #btshoneyhive #52hertz #clubzerooclock #btscarnivalnet #thebtswritersclub #btswritingcafe

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russellsppttemplates · 2 years ago

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Many more to come (George Russell)

The shelves at Y/N's and George's flat were getting smaller for the amount of books and trophies that find themselves into their place

Note: english is not my first language. I added a little something, I hope it is okay!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

Tw: curse words, small mentions of smut

"What are we here for again?", your friend said as she pushed the shopping cart, "our shelves are getting full and we need some new ones. George has been squeezing his trophies in there at this point and they deserve a nice place", you explained as you looked at your phone, the code of the material you needed written in your notes app.

You and your friend had made an afternoon trip to IKEA after sharing lunch in town since you hadn't seen her in a bit and you also needed help with the things you were buying.

Looking down at your phone and the cart you had in front of you, you double checked you had gotten everything you needed before paying and somehow managing to fit everything in your car. Your friend had helped you carry the things to the flat before she bid you goodbye, leaving you to organise your work for the next couple of hours as you turned on the TV, catching the qualifying broadcast with ten minutes to spare.

You changed into your leggings and one of George's t-shirts, combing the hair away from your face as you got on with removing the books from their shelves as well as the trophies that George had collected over the years, cleaning them a bit before placing everything back in, your eyes travelling to the TV so you could see your boyfriend get in the first top 3. Later that night, George called you via facetime, "hello my love, congratulations on your grid position for tomorrow", you said as soon as the connection was settled, George appearing on your screen, his body sprawled on the white bed sheets as you admired how his eyes contrasted with his tanned skin and the colour of the bedding as he began to tell you about the day. "With all the grid penalties and the car, we kind of expected it but it's still good enough, the guys are feeling confident about tomorrow", he smiled "That just means everyone's doing a good job, that the car is heading where it is supposed to be, finally. How are you feeling about tomorrow?", you asked, snuggling further into the blanket you had draped around yourself, "I feel good about it, I know we have RedBull and Ferrari at it too but there seems to be some pace in the car", he said confidently, "You'll give it your best, I just know it", your proud smile could be seen from the stars even as you looked at George.

"Do you have any plans for when I'm back? I think I'm getting home just before dinner, and not going to lie, I really want to spend some time just the two of us", your boyfriend expressed and you thought it would be the perfect plan, "me too, I can actually think of a nice thing for us to do", you said as you looked to the pieces that you and George would hopefully be able to build into furniture before talking some more and then bidding eachother goodbye.

George had finished in third, and after a quick phonecall he was on his way back home to you, takeout already ordered to celebrate his race. You were putting the final things on the table when you heard the front door unlock, going to the corridor to see your tall boyfriend walking in and take his shoes off before discarding his bags next to the door, "Hello darling", he said as you made grabby hands at him as you approached him, landing on his chest as you enjoyed the feeling of being back in his arms, "I'm so proud of you, my love", you said as you looked up at him, puckering your lips so he could meet yours in a kiss halfway.

"So, what's this plan you have for us tonight?", George asked as he kept his arms around you while you guys made your way into the table on the living area of the place, "I ordered some food because I'm starving and I thought you'd be too, and if you're not too tired, we can build some new shelves for my books and your trophies", you tempted him, "the collection is growing and they deserve a nice place to be shown, not all cramped up in the unit there", you pointed to a spot that somehow was fitting four of his trophies, along with a few helmets that also deserved a worthier place to be. George chuckled before he placed another kiss on your forehead, "and how do you plan to build it? You're not suggesting we suddenly turn carpenters in a couple of hours, are you?", he teased before you headed to the room where you had kept the new boards, the one closest to your reach ending up covering your height and George online giggled further as he was only able to see your feet and hands, "So you're the board? I don't think your butt is flat in the slightest though darling, I don't think that's going to work", George teased before he grabbed the wooden board and set it back in the floor, his hands moving to your butt and giving it a squeeze, "When did you get all of these? You said you were going for lunch". Pulling his hand so you could go back to the table to eat, you sat down and started opening the boxes, "I needed help to get all of this from IKEA so she helped me after lunch", you explained as you both dug in.

The instructions were open in front of you, with you separating each time of screw in little plates to avoid mixing them up as you handed George what he asked, "No you can grab that bigger one and join those two while I do these", he said as you got to work before getting up so you could both lift it, "Careful with your fingers when we put it against the wall, darling", the driver reminded you, his worry ever so present as you finally got your furniture placed.

"Well done, Bob the builder has nothing on us", you said as you highfived your boyfriend, "Now, how many trophies do we have to put here?", you started counting the ones you set on the table before George came back from the bedroom with the new acquisition to his collection he retrieved from his bag, "Oh, this one is pretty", you said looking at it as you made a quick math about where and how you could fit everything. "Where is this one from?", you asked, not recognising it straight away, "that's from F2, it was the first one I won in there, even my grandma went to watch that one", he said as he grabbed the trophy and reminisced in the memory, "but I do know this one", you grabbed the first trophy he had won when you were dating, the day one of the core memories you had together. George had invited you to a race and, since his parents were not able to be there, you were alone in his garage and that was when you noticed what he meant when he said they were family too. How everyone had welcomed you and offered you everything they could, how they had given you a set of headphones and how you were able to talk to so many people from the team without feeling like you were the odd one and, to finish it off, how George had won that race. "It was also the day I realised you were it too", George said as he kissed your cheek, helping you arrange it in the shelf.

George volunteered to help with the books and his helmets as you grabbed his trophies, quickly reaching to a halt, "Darling, I can't reach the upper shelf, ai need your help please", you blushed at your admission as George finished putting the last stack of books in one of the lower shelves, "Come on, up", he said as he got up and patted your thigh, hoisting you up so your legs wrapped around his strong waist and you both finished your work. Admiring all of it, George noticed how you had left a bit of space empty, "Why don't we move those around that one? It looks weird with that emptiness there", he suggested, "George, at the speed you're going, quite literally, that space is going to be filled anytime soon, there's many more to come from where those came from", you smiled as you grabbed your boyfriend's neck, pulling his face to yours as a kiss developed to a few more, his hands going back to your hips as he caressed your skin under the t-shirt you were wearing. "You think so, hm?", he said cockily as he hoisted you up again, his hands grabbing your thighs as he carried you to the bedroom for some final celebrations.

#george russell imagine #george russell × reader #george russell fic #george russell fluff #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic

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alwritey-aphrodite · 2 years ago

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nine

Chapter 9 of I’ll Be Back Again To Stay

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Santiago Garcia x single mom!reader

Warnings: 18+!! cursing, smut - oral (f receiving), unprotected PiV

Word Count: 4.1k

Author’s Note: sorry if this is awful, I’ve literally never even been kissed before, so… any inaccuracies are not my fault

Just as you’d suspected, you wake up at nine AM with a pounding headache and a dry mouth. There’s nothing you want more than to curl back up under the covers and sleep for twelve more hours, but instead you pop some ibuprofen, get dressed, and go pick up Inez.

She tells you all about her night on your drive back, about the snacks she ate and the movie she watched and how she really wanted to stay up till midnight, but she fell asleep before. She talks about how she wishes she could stay with Grandma Ana again, and your heart breaks a little bit.

Your return home is fast approaching, even though you wish more than anything that you could extend your stay. Instead, you settle for starting to plan your summer trip, planning to stay for even longer because of how much Inez loves it. She loves Sydney and Will and her new best friend, you know she’d love getting to return in a few months.

When you get back to Syd’s house, Will is awake and brewing coffee, with Syd napping on the couch. Inez brings her overnight bag upstairs while you slump into a chair by the kitchen table, resting your head against your hands until Inez reappears. Will volunteers to make her breakfast, and you send him a smile in thanks while you continue to will your headache away.

You spend the rest of New Year’s Day lounging around, watching movies and eating junk food and cuddling with your daughter, when she isn’t sprawled on the floor playing with her new gifts. As much as you want to make the most of the limited time you have left before returning home, you needed a day just to be sluggish. Plus, you spent it with Syd and Will, a day well spent even if you didn’t go out and do anything extravagant.

It’s an early night for everyone, and despite just how exhausted you are, you can’t seem to fall asleep. You can’t stop yourself from rolling over again and again, tossing and turning and huffing in frustration when you can’t seem to get comfortable and slip off to sleep.

Eventually, you’re so fed up that you pull your phone from the charger and nestle under your blankets so the light won’t wake Inez. You spend a while just tapping through your apps and scrolling along social media, until you notice a message from Santi pop up on your screen.

Can we talk sometime tomorrow? At my place?

You’re not sure if it’s the late hour, lack of sleep, or the headache you can still feel pulsing behind your eyes, but you’re confused. What is there to talk about? You’re leaving in less than a week, it’s not as if you can have some intense, emotional conversation and reap the benefits of it.

If anything, the type of talk you're imagining is just going to make things worse, is only going to make leaving even harder for you. Still, you want to see Santiago, you want to spend as much time as possible with him, so you reply: just let me know the time, I’ll be there

With that message sent, you can finally feel sleep pulling at you, so you squirm your way out from under the covers, plug your phone back in, and almost immediately after, fall into a deep, dreamless, restful sleep.

The next morning, Inez wakes you when she tries to crawl over top of you to reach the door. You don’t understand why she didn’t just leave the bed and walk, but you scoop her up and bring her downstairs just the same. You’re the first two awake, so you attempt to quietly make her breakfast while she watches her cartoons at the lowest possible volume.

Despite this, Syd still groggily finds her way to the kitchen, where you hand her a coffee cup with an apologetic smile.

“Don’t worry, you didn’t wake me,” she says through a yawn.

“Hey, quick question,” you shout out to her, stopping her in her trek to join Inez in the living room, “could you watch Squish for a few hours today? And can I borrow your car?” You’re hoping and praying she doesn’t ask any questions, but knowing Sydney, that would never happen.

“Why?” She raises an eyebrow, “Does this have anything to do with a certain midnight kiss?”

“Yes- well, maybe. I dunno.” You close your eyes, take a breath before opening them again, “Please?”

“Of course,” she tells you, continuing to make her way to the couch, “but I’ll need details later.” You wave her off and continue to make breakfast for Inez, smiling as you hear bits and pieces of the quiet conversation coming from the living room.

A few hours later, you’re en route to Santi’s place, nothing more than a bundle of nerves. You’re wearing comfortable clothes, because you figured there was no real point in trying to impress him. No matter what it was that he wanted to talk about, in a little over a day you’d be halfway across the country again.

That’s the one thought rotating around and around in your mind: you have less than two days left here, and you don’t plan on wasting them. Between all the nerves, you’d been hyping yourself up, telling yourself that you’ll tell Santiago you love him, no matter what it is that he tells you.

All of that confidence is gone by the time you’re walking to Santi’s front door, fully replaced by anxiety. Still, you can’t help but smile at Toby’s excited barking when you knock on the door.

“Hey,” Santiago says, simultaneously opening the door and holding Toby back, “c’mon in.” You can practically feel the nerves radiating from him, but you step instead and shrug off your coat anyway.

The two of you just stand there, in his entryway, as his dog runs between the two of you until you squat down to pet him, breaking through the first layer of awkwardness.

“So,” Santi says as you stand up to your full height, watching as Toby scampers away.

“So…” you respond, trying to pull something more out of him. He’s the one that invited you here, he should be the one leading your conversation.

Still, you can’t help but notice how good he looks. He’s dressed casually, much like you are, and his curls are more askance than normal, as if he’s been running his hands through them. You can’t help but want to kiss him again.

He clears his throat, and then “Want a drink?” You nod, following him through his house and towards his kitchen, where he pours you both a drink before leaning his weight against the counter. You take a sip, hoping he’ll finally talk, but when he doesn’t, you can’t help but sigh.

“Santi, what am I doing here?” You ask, as gently as you can, setting your glass down onto the counter.

“I wanted to see you again, before you left.” Ironically, he’s not looking at you at all, his head cast down to admire the marbling of the counter.

“That’s it?” You pry, as gently as you can, because you can’t help but feel like there’s something he wants that he won’t tell you.

“I wanted to kiss you again,” he tells you, blushing slightly and laughing at himself.

You can’t help but grin, at how fucking cute he is, how endlessly charming. You start to get a little sad, at the fact that your departure is impending, at the fact that he hasn’t given you a reason to stay, not even for a few days more. It two days you’ll be gone and none of this will matter and know that you’ve been left to your own devices-

“Then come over here and kiss me.”

You’re more forward than you’ve been in your entire life, because, really, what do you have to lose? Your nerve? This surge of confidence? Nothing real is at stake here, except for one last chance for a few more moments with Santiago. You know nothing real can come of this, so why not take what you can get.

He takes a step towards you, and then another, until your back is pressing against the counter and his hands are settling at your waist. This time, there’s no hesitation, no pause before you collide, and suddenly the universe is just you and him, everything else has disappeared.

It feels less frantic than that first time, his tongue slipping against yours as if he’s trying to map the inside of your mouth, trying to commit you to memory. And yet, it feels so much more desperate than before, the way his hands are gripping and pawing at your sides, the way your fingers are winding and tugging against his curls.

Barely pulling back for air, he starts to maneuver the two of you backwards, avoiding chairs and walls and side tables on your way to the bedroom.

“It’s open this time,” Santi whispers against you as you cross the threshold into his bedroom, the kiss breaking again as you giggle. Santiago laughs too, his nose scrunching up and the sides of his eyes crinkling in the most gorgeous way possible, you want to commit him to memory.

Once you calm your giggles, Santi continues leading you towards his bed, pulling you along without breaking the kiss. You want to devour him, you want him to devour you. You can’t think of a single thing you want more in this moment than him, than all the things he could do to you.

Your insides are mush, your brain is goo, and your blood is coursing hot through your body, his touch seeming to light you on fire. He starts to gently peel off your sweatshirt, leaving you feeling much more exposed than you’d thought.

When it’s your turn, you're frantic, digging your fingers into the fabric of his shirt and tugging, yanking it free of his body before flinging it somewhere across his bedroom. Instantly, you settle your hands on his chest, delighting in the desperate thumbing of his heart beneath his ribs.

At this point, you’re sure you need him more than air, so you’re devastated when he pulls away, leaving mere inches between your lips and resting his questing hands on your shoulders.

“You’re sure this is ok?” He asks, giving you an opportunity to tug your top back on and walk out the door.

“100%” you tell him, because there isn’t a single thing that you want more.

With that assurance, he’s pushing you backwards until your feet hit the edge of the bed, causing you to sit back with an “oomph”. There’s a pause where he looks in your eyes, to make sure it’s a noise of surprise and not pain, and when he finds nothing but a surprised smile on your face, he continues on his mission.

His kisses move from your lips to your jaw, down the column of your neck. You feel his teeth nip against your flesh, and you’re left gasping for air, your eyes pressing shut because everything you’re feeling is too intense. Santi pulls back, worried that he’s hurt you or done something you didn’t like, but the already blissed out look on your face makes him sink his teeth into you again, this time at your collar bone.

He loves this, just getting to love on you for a while, all of his attention on you. Right now, you’re the center of his universe, nothing could possibly drag him away from you, not when he’s reaching behind your back to unclasp your bra, not when you’re helping him by tugging the straps off your shoulders and flinging it somewhere else.

Santiago pauses, just to admire you for a moment. With the feeling of his lips against your skin gone, you open your eyes again, and see the most beautiful sight in the world: Santi, seated on his knees between your spread legs, his lips pink and swollen and slick with spit, his pupils blown wide and his curls mused from your fingers. You want to sear this image into your mind forever, because he’s just that gorgeous.

He continues down your body, kissing and sucking and marking on your breasts until you're absolutely breathless, and he draws his trail of kisses down your abdomen, until he reaches the waistband of your leggings. He pauses, fingers inching underneath the fabric to grasp at your skin, and you’re nodding fervently, assisting by using your feet planted on the floor to raise to your hips as Santiago tugs the pants off of you, taking your underwear with him.

Here you are, completely bare and panting and strung out, on Santiago’s bed. He’s kneeling in front of you, between your legs, on those jacked-up knees of his, looking up at you as if you’ve created the whole entire universe. As if you are the whole entire universe.

“Please…” you plead, too far gone to be embarrassed about how goddamn desperate you sound. All you want is for him to touch you, wherever and however he wants: you just need to feel him. You feel like your skin is on fire, and his touch is the only cure, even if it makes you burn hotter.

You have no time to feel vulnerable, not about the fact that you’re sitting completely naked on Santi’s bed or how you just whined for him, because he’s squeezing your thighs before he gently pulls them apart, and then your elbows completely give out.

How are you expected to hold yourself up when he’s practically devouring you, somehow knowing exactly where and how you need to be touched. Your eyes are squeezing shut, because even staring up at his bare ceiling is too much stimulation, when all you want to focus on is the way that Santiago is pulling you apart with just his tongue, licking and sucking and leaving you dizzy.

And then, he’s taking one of those wonderfully thick fingers of his and gently prodding you open, making you wail as if someone had punched you in the stomach. He stops, retreats his hand and his mouth, but suddenly you're grabbing hold of his curls and pulling him back towards your cunt.

“Please, keep going,” you squeak out, amazed at how you’re still able to form words when all you can think about is how you feel like you’re floating away, Santiago’s strong grip on your hip the only thing keeping you anchored to the bed as he fucking devours you.

His gentle touch returns, inching inside and letting you adjust before you nod and plead for him to keep going, to add more, to do more, because as good as it feels you need more. A second finger joins the first before he crooks them gently, causing all of the air to rush out of your lungs.

Despite your iron grip on his hair, Santiago inches back, desperate to see you, to see how well you’re taking his fingers, to see how you pant and writh around, looking debauched and like the best thing he’s ever laid eyes on. He returns his attention to your clit, and you’re gone.

You’re convinced you’ve disappeared, floated away, because you can’t feel a thing. Stars are exploding behind your eyes and pleasure is exploding along your veins and you can’t feel a thing and it’s perfect.

Sure, you’ve gotten laid a handful of times in the past five years, and you know how to take care of yourself, but nothing has ever come close to this. Santiago hasn’t even fucked you yet and you’re already floating away.

“You good?” He asks from between your legs, planting gentle and slightly scratchy kisses on the inside of your thighs. You try not to pay attention to how slick his mouth looks, or how his tongue peeks out ever so often.

“Mhm,” you nod, and lighten your grip on his head. He stands, and winces, as if you’d be too far gone to notice his discomfort. You don’t say anything, but you promise yourself to get him an ice pack or heating pad later.

He makes his way up your body, until he plants the sweetest of kisses on your lips.

“That was… amazing,” you tell him in between kisses.

“Yeah?” He looks all too pleased with himself, but you’ll let it slide because of how cute he looks.

“Oh yeah.” You laugh, but then he’s pulling back even as you try and chase his lips, desperate to kiss him some more.

“I can do better,” and he’s gently grabbing your hips and pulling you towards the edge of the bed. He stops though, and waits for you to nod, to urge him on because even though you’ve just come, you need more.

Before you can blink, he’s spreading your thighs again, hushing you gently when you whine, high and needy, until you can feel him pressing against you. Your eyes are slammed shut, and Santiago pauses, hinging forward to gently run his palms up and down your sides, from the bottom of your ribs to your hips.

“Keep going,” you manage to whisper, and you feel him pressing deeper into you. Jesus fuck, you can feel him in your lungs and he’s still not flush against your hips and there’s more of him and he’s so fucking thick you think you’re losing your mind.

And then his hips are pressed right against yours, leaving you so fucking full you feel like you’re going to explode. Still, you wrap your legs around him, locking and squeezing your ankles together to keep Santi as close to you as possible.

He starts to pull back, barely an inch, before gently rocking inside you again, and you’ve fully transcended, there’s nothing left of you here. How can he barely move and still feel that fucking good? It’s unnatural and unbelievable and you need more.

You’re starting to think this was an awful idea because how can you ever leave now, when all you want, all you need, is Santiago? How are you ever supposed to be away from him, when you want to stay here forever? How are you-

He thrusts deeper, harder, and all thoughts are knocked from your brain, you can barely remember to breathe. You think you moan, and cry out his name, but you really have no idea if the sounds coming out of your mouth are coherent at all.

“Look at me,” his voice breaks through the fog, and it’s more of a plea than a command, “please, baby, look at me.” You manage to peel your eyes open, and you need to resist the urge to slam them shut again because what you see is going to hurtle you towards oblivion.

Santiago’s gripping your hips, hard enough that you’re almost positive you’ll bruise, and he’s filling you so perfectly and he’s looking at you with something like love. There’s not a single space in your body that isn’t full of him, you’re sure you can feel him in your stomach, in your throat.

His curls are falling in his face and his jaw is clenched and his grip tightens, and without any warning you’re clenching down on him and thrown into the supernova, pleasure exploding along your spine, lighting you on fire and leaving you raw.

“Where?” He chokes out, and the thought of being empty of him makes you want to cry, so you desperately grapple for his hands, to keep them pressed against you.

“Inside, please,” you’re amazed at the fact that you sound mostly coherent, but then Santi’s coming and he’s folding over and resting his head against your sternum, panting into your skin while you try to regain control of your senses.

You’re both sticky, skin tacky and sticking together, and you can feel his cum starting to leak out of you, and it should feel repulsive but you feel refreshed and rebooted and a little bit sad. So, you wrap your hands around Santi’s head and keep him pressed against you for a few moments longer.

“I’ll be right back,” Santiago says as he pulls away, and you’re too exhausted to protest, even as he slips out of you, leaving you feeling more empty than you’d expected. He’s only gone for a couple minutes, and when he returns it’s with a warm washcloth and a t-shirt.

He cleans you up as you lay there, muttering your thanks when he holds the shirt out to you. You slip it on, and he slips away, finding his own clothes and trekking to the kitchen to bring you some water. Somehow, you manage to inch your way up the bed until you’re reclining on the pillows.

You thank him when he returns with your water, settling onto the bed beside you. Exhaustion starts to settle deep within your bones, so you chug down the water and set the glass on his bedside table before wiggling yourself closer to Santi. After a moment, he wraps an arm around you, and before long he’s tracing shapes against the skin of your exposed thighs.

Despite how relaxed you feel, despite how sleep is pulling at you, you will yourself to stay awake because you know if you close your eyes, you’ll be here all night. And, as much as you’d love that, you need to go back to Syd’s, you need to start packing.

This was an awful idea, because now you want to stay forever. And, based on the way he holds you just a little bit tighter as the minutes pass, you think Santiago’s thinking the same thing.

“You should come visit,” you say, voice a little hoarse, breaking the thick silence that has settled over the two of you since Santi returned with the water.

“That sounds nice,” he responds before placing a kiss at the base of your skull. You have to will yourself not to cry, at the softness of it all, at the sadness of it all.

“Inez would like that too,” and you hope he’s understanding everything you’re not saying, that you want him more than you’ve ever wanted anything. You want him to be a part of your life, a part of your daughter’s life.

“I don’t know how to be a dad.” There’s a genuine despair in his voice, as if this is all he’s ever really wanted. And, if he’s honest with himself, it really is all he’s wanted since he came home: a wife, a kid, a dog. The picture perfect family, and now that it might be a possibility for him, it’s slipping out of reach.

Of course it is, because he has shit luck because he’s a shitty person. People like him don’t get to be with people like you, people like him don’t get to be happy. It’s the people like Frankie, like the Millers, that deserve to be happy. Santiago doesn’t deserve you.

“That’s alright,” you tell him as you squeeze his hand where it rests on your hip, “we can worry about that later.” Silence slips over you again, and neither of you want to break it. Breaking the silence means you’re going to leave, and neither of you want you to leave.

This was a mistake.

But in your experience, wonderful things can come from mistakes.

Sleeping with Inez’s father, months after the two of you had broken up, was a mistake. But it was a mistake that gave you your beautiful daughter, your favorite person in the world. Maybe, this mistake can bring you something just as wonderful.

Still, you know it’s time for you to leave. You have to start packing, you have to get back to Inez, and you know if you stay any longer you’ll never want to. You’re already finding it difficult to sit up, to put inches of space between you and Santiago, how are you going to feel when there are hundreds of miles between the two of you?

You forge ahead, gathering your discarded clothes and tugging them back on. After you pull your leggings on, you pause for a moment, hands on the hem of the t-shirt Santi had given you. As much as you want to keep it on, keep it forever, you pull it off and fold it gently, placing it on the edge of his bed after pulling on your sweatshirt.

Finally, Santiago gets up, pausing to stretch out his muscles before he walks you to the door.

“I…” the words seem stuck in his throat, his hand stuck on the doorknob, your heart breaking every second you spend here.

“I know,” you reply, because you do; you feel the exact same. Still, you kiss him softly, one last time, on your way out the door. “Bye, Santi.”

Tags: @zoriis @andr0medafallen @campingwiththecharmings @itspdameronthings @stevenngrant @loonymagizoologist @welcometostayingawake @outmodead @pakhiya @wand-erer5

#santiago garcia #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia x you #santiago pope garcia #santiago pope garica x reader #triple frontier #triple fontier fanfic #smut #santiago garcia smut #triple frontier smut #i’ll be back again to stay

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shurisneakers · 2 years ago

Text

bridges break (ii)

summary: steve shuts himself away. you pull him along on a trip of a lifetime in an attempt to reconnect. great plan! except there's one big secret he's keeping from you that could change the course of your entire relationship, and there's no greasy stack of diner pancakes in the country big enough to hide behind.

(road trip!au, best friends to lovers)

Warnings: angst, mentions of death, mental health issues and disorientation, ptsd, swearing, my garbage attempt at humour and art history. lemme know if i missed anything and I'll tag it.

A/N: hi <3 thank u all for your bday wishes and yes i feel literally as old as this geriatric mf. love u guys

there's a poem in here that's been credited to a.j. it was written by the wonderful @barnesandco whose poetry you can find over on @pakpoetics so follow her and send some love!!

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

"Passport."

"Yes."

"Tablet."

"Yes."

"Synced calendar on your phone."

"Yes." Steve breaks away from the threshold of his apartment and into the cold air.

Mona face lags on the screen, and Steve waits for her to start moving again. The sun had just barely begun to peek through the clouds, the air chill with the thin layer of condensation, and she was already working on full steam.

He'd assured her, swore to her, that he wouldn't need a physical copy of the checklist delivered to him. Still, her call had come about ten minutes ago to make sure Steve had an updated copy of all the fundraisers and public service announcements he was scheduled to attend when he was back.

But then she asks, "Pager?"

"Pager?" Steve stalls in his steps.

"The Constitution?" she continues. "Declaration of Independence?"

He watches the desolate road in front of his apartment, biting back a wry smile. "Very funny."

"Sorry. Couldn't help myself," she says and then adds something else he doesn't catch.

"What'd you say?" He squints at the bars-- he had full network.

"I said, we've only got clearance for a month and one week," she says, louder. "And that's after a lot of negotiating. So please try to make it back by then."

"Gotcha," he says, studying a cyclist that rode past him leisurely. "How are you gonna keep busy?"

"I've got my ways," Mona replies. "Oh! Last thing before your vacation officially starts--"

A sleek, black SUV pulls up in front of him in true movie fashion. The window rolls down to reveal your face complete with a bright smile and sunglasses, both out of place for this time of the morning. Still, he can't control himself and his own lopsided smile grows at the sight.

"Too late," Steve says, waving to you before making his way around the back of the car. “Think it just did.“

"Just a document, I swear. Captain Ro-"

"It's just Steve, Mona." He sighs, balancing the phone between his shoulder blades as he leaves his two duffel bags in the trunk. “We've taken care of all of it. Even if I disappear tomorrow, it'll be fine."

The hecticness had slowed to a crawling pace, anyway. He put in a few extra hours, pre-recorded several videos for the public for various hypothetical scenarios, and in general seemed like he had done most of what he could from his position.

He made tired, but overall sincere, promises to return immediately if aliens landed up in the city again, or if Mona sent him an SOS. The latter was more of a priority.

"Okay, first of all, please don't do that,” Mona adds quickly. “If you’re planning on disappearing, then-"

"I was kidding." Sort of. "I'll sign the thing."

"Great!” He watches the white light on her face change to blue she switches apps. "Now, I know I said that was the last thing but-"

"Hanging up on you now." He closes the trunk firmly with a thud.

She lets out an exaggerated exhale before looking at him.

"I was just gonna say send me a postcard. I like the old, weird ones."

"I will keep that in mind," Steve promises. "Bye, Mona."

"Bye, Captain Rogers."

"Steve."

"Captain Steve," she replies swiftly before the screen goes dark, leaving him to stare at himself.

He shakes his head lightly, tucking his phone into his pocket and makes his way to the passenger's side.

"Hi," you say as he peers in through the window. "You ready to get this thing started?"

______

A map spread wide, arm to arm, takes up most of the space in the front.

"Why am I looking at this again?" he asks in delayed clarification, nevertheless not tearing his eyes away from it.

"For directions."

"Yes, but why?" The paper rustles as he folds it up in half neatly along the creases. "Last I checked, we still got GPS."

You have a firm grip on the steering wheel while your posture is relaxed back, one elbow leaning out the window.

There is an anticipatory curl in the corner of your mouth, and he’s lead to believe he is entirely too predictable in the kind of questions he asks.

“If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right,” you reason, as he follows a trail down the printed road with his index finger. It’s a long way to go. "Like all the movies."

"Were these movies made after 2005?"

"You know, now that you mention it, they were in black and white," you say thoughtfully before turning to face him. “Are you absolutely sure you’re not hungry?”

“Positive. Had a good breakfast.” He can’t really see you through the obstruction of the map, but mostly he’s glad you can’t see him because he was still getting used to outright lying to you. “I got us some bars, just in case.”

“What bars?"

"Nuts, fruits. The usual. Oats."

"Stevie," you say in bewilderment, and he pulls down the paper to look at you, "I love you, but we’re not eating health bars on a road trip. Sam would have my head if I let you.”

“You might wanna avoid telling him about the protein shakes, then.”

“You did not.” Shock turns to horror at the idea of several containers worth of whey in his secondary duffel bag.

“Didn’t I?”

“No.” It takes no longer than a second to settle on. “You wouldn’t.”

The traffic you’ve spent half an hour in already graciously allows you to move a few inches forward. He wonders how long it would be till the skyscrapers and billboards would be swapped for a stretch of nothingness, a bright blue horizon and cloudless sky.

"Besides, even if you did," you continue, even though he thought the topic had already run its course, "once we start picking up all the unnecessary touristy shit at every stop along the way, I will not hesitate to throw your protein powder out first to save on space."

Steve smile reappears. "How much are you planning on buying?"

"Buddy, I got a whole other bag just for that," you draw out in a sing-song voice. "I'm gonna single-handedly fix this economy."

There’s a sharp reminder that flashes through his mind, leaving in its wake a sudden unsettling feeling that combs its way through him.

He should check if the list had made it with him on the trip. The stupid, godforsaken list.

"I wanted to get some stuff too," he says in an effort to placate it.

"Yeah? What stuff?"

"I’ll show you later," Steve waves off, shifting in his seat to get comfortable. "It's just some stuff from ‘round the country."

"Like memorabilia?"

"Kind of." He powers through the image of the torn notebook paper, a incomplete list in unruly handwriting, pressed between the folds of his pocket out of his brain.

"Sounds cool," you say. "We'll get 'em all."

“Why are you here, Captain?” she asks finally.

“You know why, doctor.” Steve's cheek leans on his fingers, leaving behind indents.

“It’s a part of your deal, I know,” she says, “but why are you here?”

Steve snaps the map up again, keeping him out of your sight before his eyes shut tightly.

“Where’s our first stop?” he musters as normally as he can.

“Given the state of this traffic, it'd be for lunch,” you reply, staring straight out at the line of cars in front of you. “After that it’s Pittsburgh. There’s this art museum I wanted to check out.”

Steve realizes he's been clenching his eyes too hard once the spots start dancing in front of him, forcing him to relax them.

“Art museum?”

“You like art, don’t you?”

“I do.” A heavyweight paper sketchbook and a set of good pencils were staples of his luggage. “But I didn't know you were into it now.”

“I mean, I've definitely developed an eye for the finer things, Steven. Art included.”

"Yeah? You got a favourite artist yet?"

"I don’t know if you’ve heard of this guy. He's kinda niche," you reply. "Bob Ross."

“Oh?”

"Big fan of the way he hits things with a brush. Very good use of space."

It's enough to make him laugh, dismiss the disembodied thoughts floating around in his head for a moment. He lowers the map and folds it up before tucking it back into the glove compartment.

Steve shifts in his seat again to pull out his phone, deciding to make himself useful by at least finding a good place to get lunch.

"According to the ratings, the nearest res-" he cuts himself off when he turns to look at you and finds a big grin on your face as you look out at the road ahead.

"What?" he asks instead, slightly confused.

“Nothing.” The smile on your face doesn’t let up. “Just been a while since I've heard that laugh."

_________

Steve’s been to one gallery since he was out of the ice.

For a man whose hand itches while his mind stalls, it’s criminal that the only time he had the opportunity to was on an undercover op.

It's strange how similar it all felt now, blue baseball cap covering his hair, oversized jacket with his hands shoved deep in the pockets and shoulders hunched to make himself smaller.

But this time, his low profile isn’t to trail a HYDRA operative. It was to avoid a seemingly unlikely confrontation in a silent hall. The crowd is sparse and scattered where available, but he supposes that was normal considering that it was a weekday evening.

You had gone in search of a map again, leaving him to his own devices for a few moments.

The place was gorgeous. A mix of both classical and modernism; high ceilings held up with marble pillars, art painstakingly carved into stone, grand staircases, and murals lining the walls, whereas the galleries were sleek, with plain white walls with strategic lighting, and labyrinth dividers.

Steve breathes in deeply, finding notes of aromatics they’ve used to enhance every human sense. If his being could fracture into shards of glass, he knew that the minute bits would be art, the ones that slip by unnoticed until you realize what filled in the gaps between the more significant pieces.

"Turns out they've got tours," you say, coming to stand beside him. "But they focus on specific artists or like, themed ones like the ‘Effect of Labor on Art’. Told 'em I'd ask you and let them know."

"Maybe we could just walk around for a while?" he proposes instead. A tour this early already seemed too restrictive, like he was following a schedule when he'd just managed to escape from one.

"That's what I was thinkin' too." You tap his shoulder lightly with a thin, folded brochure. "So I got us a map and a few directions from them to get started."

"Where to first?"

You narrow your eyes playfully at him. “How much do you know about contemporary art?”

“Haven't really had time to study it,” Steve replies. "I'd say roughly the same as you."

“So… not much.”

"I thought you had an eye for the finer things in life," he reminds as you begin leading the way.

"Oh yeah, I can definitely tell if it's fine or not." You grin. "Rest is obviously up for interpretation."

"So-- contemporary art first?"

You look down at the map where a little number indicated where you were. "Contemporary art first."

_____

Admittedly, this style of art isn’t really up Steve's alley, but he likes looking at them all the same. The symbolism isn't always decipherable, but he admires the flair and the subjectivity. Every piece of art had a bit of someone’s life in them, and it took a great deal to part with it from the kind embrace of your mind and leave it on a canvas.

His own sketches of Nat’s coffee cup on the window sill of their safehouse in Montana, or the view of Wakanda from the hall outside Bucky’s cryo chamber took a lot longer than some of the other quick doodles he’d leave on paper napkins.

"Art is subjective and all that, but I tell ya this, I got a lot to say about some of them."

Some of the pieces had colours that were striking, bold. Looking at them alone raises his spirits, even to the smallest degree.

Steve smiles slightly. "What does your fine eye make of it?"

“Of this one? It's... interesting,” you say, pausing in front of an acrylic on linen. Splashes of every shade of mustard in shapes, strokes, lines hiding lavender symbols at the back, highlighted by notes of black. "Very strong narrative."

Steve silently waits for an explanation.

“It’s about the artist’s love for her niece. There’s lavender for the nursery she helped paint, yellow for her love and the black’s representative of her troubled relationship with her sister,” you explain, eyes never leaving the painting. “She wishes she could see her niece more, be a part of her life but her sister isn’t having any of it. It’s why there’s such little lavender in the grand scheme of things, always hidden by a lot of black.”

Steve lingers at the picture, following every word you say with the intent of connecting it with what he can see. He knows you're talking about of your ass, but it was mildly impressive.

His eyes flicker towards you.

"Like I said," you finish, "very strong narrative."

“You just came up with that on the spot?" Steve asks instead.

“Who, me? Lying?” You scoff. “Never.”

His jaw clicks as it slides to the side before returning to its position, eyes trained on the floor with a shake of his head. He tries his best to hide his smile before looking back up at you.

The next few ones are observed in silence before you move on. You don’t provide your analysis, even though he waits for it, shifting focus between you and the art.

By the third one he realizes that you probably weren’t going to unless he asks. But he missed your voice. He could do with a little more of it.

“You got anything to say about this?“ he asks, face stoic as he points to one that from afar looks like oil pastels on paper. It’s scribbles upon scribbles of different colours, drawn without any restraint. "Strong narrative?"

He watches the corner of your mouth quirk up.

“Messy, non-linear narrative," you correct, head leaning to the side. "The creator was clearly thrilled about something. A lot of colours, messy. Man was having the time of his life.”

Steve feels a laugh bubble up to his chest. “Right.”

“These little circles here-” You point so confidently to the corner of the canvas, it almost sounds convincing “-they represent the magic mushrooms he was on while painting this.”

That was definitely… an opinion.

"Very insightful," he agrees, following you as you throw him a wink over your shoulder. “What about that?”

“This one’s easy.” You stop in front of a blank canvas. There’s a thin square of red outlining the boundary, but it’s bare except for it.

“Let’s hear it.”

“Wait, read the description first,” you encourage, pointing at the label at the side. “I wanna see if I’m right.”

“Unnamed, by Flo Dyer, is a prototypical minimalist abstraction.” A whole lot of words for a canvas full of nothing. “The visual and tangible characteristics of the piece pushes the interpreter into a journey of self-discovery.”

“Obviously,” you say. “Duh.”

---

The gallery is divided, each hosting works from different eras, Impressionist and Post-Impressionist. This, he has a little more experience. He'd read a few books, talked to kids who had enough money and time to get into art school, to have his mouth slightly agape the minute he steps in.

The detail and care in every restored painting hanging on the wall takes whatever words he could have from his throat, rolls them up and blows them into the wind. He wants to extend a finger forward, brush up against it and feel history under his skin. But he can’t, so he settles on watching from afar.

He wordlessly spends time in front of each painting, breathing in the passion and love of people who lived centuries before him.

The longest time he spends is at the portrait of a sleeping woman, head draped delicately over her forearm. You don't say anything, only sitting patiently beside him as he loses track of the evening.

It reminds him of the light through the window falling on the mattress pushed up against the wall. Slow afternoons and her sleeping figure under it, back turned to Steve. He wonders how the heat didn't seem to phase her.

“It’s beautiful,” you say, eyes not leaving the art.

Steve's attention snaps back to you, blinking away slow afternoons and the blanket left at the foot of the bed.

“Albert J Moore.” He can hear his own voice muted as it replies. “Acacias.”

Steve wants to ask if you can feel the same sense of peace that washes over him the longer he watches it.

He hopes you do. It’s a feeling he wants to float in for as long as he could.

___

Roaming around the museum on his own wouldn't have been nearly as fun. Steve liked seeing which ones you had a visceral reaction to, whether it be awe or criticism. Whatever facts he knew, he’d rattle off and you’d listen attentively as if his word was gospel. Each gallery with its own collection had something for him to linger at a little longer, and sometimes he explained why but others he couldn't.

The next gallery he enters, he enters through a small path until he comes to a stop in front of one piece in specific. Even without glancing at the name, he can tell the artist; it was so distinct.

Steve knew the works of Edward Hopper. Had seen them cited far more often these last few years than any other artist, but this is the first time he’s seen one in its original form.

Sunday, it’s called.

Sunday by Edward Hopper, 1926.

Oil on canvas, it has the almost sepia-like laziness that comes with the end of the week. Warm colours dip in and out of shadows, it paints the curbside of a road lining rows of closed shops.

In 1926, Steve was 8. A spunky, spitfire eight that by May, had already been in and out of the nurse’s office four times.

Eight-year-old Steve still remembered his ma asleep on the mattress that was usually reserved for his frail bones most of the week, until the weekend rolled around and she got two hours to herself on it for a nap. He left the apartment to find something else to do, somewhere else to let off some energy that came with pent up defiance at the world residing in his blood.

On Steve’s curbside, the shops weren’t closed for the weekend. They were ‘Sorry! Closed for Business’ on weekends, weekdays, months, years. Sometimes a new owner flipped over the cardboard sign to welcome people in, and flipped it right back after a month.

Edward Hopper’s curbside has a man in the forefront. There’s a cigarette in his mouth, and his arms are closed in a way that shuts him off from the world. In the deserted, empty street this man--

The man looks at him and Steve feels seen, as though his stare has pierced through the seven walls of defense that lines his chest.

The man looks at him and he knows. The man knows.

Steve feels it in his heart first, before it makes its way up to his throat like a rush of bile. His cheeks pain, ache. It’s a feeling he thought he got over a long time ago as everything unrelentingly went on.

He feels out of time.

“You know this one?” you ask when he doesn't make any movement,

"No." His answer is short, mumbled.

“What are you lookin’ at?”

His soul, it feels like. Bared out there for the world to see how much of a damn liar he is. The man and his cigar don’t look at you. They pierce through him and him alone.

Your gaze follows his. “He seems lonely.”

“Yeah,” Steve’s voice comes out hoarse, “he does.”

“’Least he’s got a smoke.” You’re optimistic, too radiant for a portrait like this. He’s glad that it doesn’t affect you the way it does him; at least he knows that you have nothing on your conscience to have exposed to the world like this.

The man has a cigar and Stevie has a shield.

And they’re both alone.

___

It takes you linking your arm with his for him to finally pull himself away from the painting, but the walk to the next gallery is spent with him wishing it would stop searing itself stronger into his brain each time he closed his eyes.

The final collection is at the far end of the hall, in a separate room altogether. Accessible only if you wanted to, which was good. Saves people from an uninvited gloom.

Pain and Perseverance: A Glimpse Look into the Darkest Years

He knows what it’s about. You do, too, which is why you turn to him hesitantly.

“We don’t have to go in,” you say, standing near enough to him for his enhanced hearing to catch your heartbeat. It tethers him, connects him to a living, breathing being.

“I think we should,” he replies, steadfast to the point it was almost robotic.

There is only one other person in the room with you both, and she isn’t paying much attention to him, so he takes off his cap in reverence.

It’s fitting how silent and closed off this part of the museum is to the rest of the world. A tribute to those who wouldn't be able to set foot into this room.

Your hand slides out from his and he lets you go gently. He knows you’re around, so it’s okay. He knew the second you'd walked in that you'd need space to process each piece on your own.

He quietly makes his way through the fifteen paintings and photographs, mulling over each one for a few seconds at the very least.

There’s one in all black, two birch wood trees on a hill with nothing else in the distance. Another blurry picture of a single armchair left to collect dust from years of unuse in the corner of an old age home.

Steve doesn't dare to swallow the heaviness in his throat. There is anger, regret, helplessness in the walls around him. But all of it stems from the same miserable channel- a single, desperate sadness.

He lands up at the final piece on display, a glass box standing tall. The woman from earlier is still there, unmoving.

Steve doesn’t disturb her, only stays a step away from her and instead stands in front of painting of comfort, of two men so close their necks entwined with each other.

“Sorry.” She clears her throat to get his attention, giving him a misty smile when he turns to look at her.

“Please,” he says, earnest and kind, “take all the time you need.”

“Feels like I’ve been here hours.” She inclines her head towards the casing. “There’s something about it.”

He only waits for her to finish. A few minutes of silence later, she takes a step to the side, allowing him a little space to stand beside her and see for himself what she had stopped at.

It’s a sculpture, a kid made of metal, with spangly arms and a tiny head molded rustically like years of weathering had done a number on him. His arms wrap around his knees, hugging them close to his body as he dipped his forehead in the valley they formed together.

Its emotion lays in its simplicity- anything more than what has been made would have been too much.

There’s a pull that doesn’t allow him to tear his eyes away from it. The only time he does is to read the artwork label, to gain a little more insight.

“Heartbreaking, isn’t it?” the stranger asks from beside him. His silence and the pit in his stomach is enough to answer.

He hopes she’s all right. He hopes she made it out all right.

Berta Pedrero (b. 1976)

Despair, 2020

In memory of her son, Mateo J. Pedrero.

If he dared to, he would shoot a little prayer into the sky for her son, wherever he is, but he stays grounded, eyes on the sculpture because he remembers he has forgone that right a long time ago.

The stranger beside him walks off after a few more minutes of silence. He can feel your hand slip into his, and he holds on, tighter than usual.

Steve continues to stare, long after she’s gone.

___

You read out the description from the pamphlet, the idea behind the execution and the artists who made it possible as Steve walks silently beside you.

“Took three years to curate it,” you inform him. “Fifteen different countries. They’ve included a quote.”

His gaze flicks to you, clearing his throat as he asks, “What is it?”

You wordlessly hand it over to him and he scans the page until it lands on the quote at the bottom.

Steve exhales, jaw tightening as he reads through it again.

The poets write of tragedy, not to honor the sorrow,

but to remind themselves that something survived it.

-A.J.

Though the sentiment is strong and he feels it in his bones, he discards his pamphlet on the way out. He already carries the weight of the world on his back, and he tries not to add the weight of the words to his pocket.

-----

"Okay, Rogers." You clap your hands together, rubbing your palms as you shift in your seat. "Prelude to the big event. Spill.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. "This wasn't the start of the road trip?"

"Nope. That only starts once we get to the first official stop. This is just the introduction. The prequel, if you may."

"Ah," he says from across the booth. "It was... impressive."

"Please note that at the end of this trip, you will be filling out a form on the overall serve so that we can improve our experiences for next time.” You sound exactly like some of the sales people he’s met, chipper yet monotone.

"Can't wait." Steve picks up his glass of water, avoiding your sight. Next time. "As if the very comprehensive survey you sent wasn't enough."

"You chose to be friends with a scientist. I had to check all the variables and preferences before I planned a trip."

"What did my fabric preferences have to do with the road we're taking?"

There's a wicked twinkle in your eye. "Just checkin’ those boxes, Rogers. Like I said, all variables"

The kitchen doors open, and Steve hears the crackle and sizzle from inside for a few seconds before they swing shut again. The brief opening is enough for the smell of meat grilling to overpower the scent of lemon pies in display domes, stale coffee and freshly mopped floors.

"What is it then?" Steve asks as you push a large glass towards him. "The trip you’ve planned?"

You look up at the waiter, giving him a quick smile as he leaves two milkshakes on the table.

"Route 66."

His eyebrows knit together in recognition. "The Mother Road?"

"You've heard of it." Your smile widens.

"Yeah, they started constructing it when I was a kid. I thought it didn't exist anymore."

“Technically it doesn’t,” you admit. “But I’ve done my research. We’re just following what it used to be. Old highways and signs and all that.”

He hums in agreement. “And if we get lost?”

“I got a couple of flare guns in the trunk,” you dismiss. “I’ll get you to California, Stevie, don’t you worry.”

He doesn’t doubt it.

“So,” you say, wiping your hands on your napkin before unlocking your phone and sliding it towards him, “We stay at the motel down the road tonight, get an early start tomorrow.”

Steve's reply is cut short before it even begins when someone comes to stand beside him.

"Here you go," the server drags the last syllable out, placing two hefty plates in front of you both. "Enjoy."

Steve thanks him courteously before says before eyeing what you'd convinced him to order.

“To the first burgers,” you hold up a fry, “and many more to come.”

Steve pulls the plate towards him where it joins his still untouched vanilla milkshake.

"No healthy stuff, you said?" He peers up at you.

"‘Least not for the first week,” you reply determinedly. "Relax. You can get back to the oat bars next week."

“I haven't only been eating protein shakes and nut bars,” he protests. “Microwave dinners. They aren't the healthiest, they should count.”

"I thought you hated those." Your eyebrows knit together. "Isn’t that why you cooked?"

Steve's voice immediately drops to a mumble. "Haven't had the time."

“She still pickin’ up those extra shifts?”

“Double this weekend.” Steve fidgets with a newspaper.

“How’re you gonna keep yourself fed?”

“I can cook.”

“Cereal ain’t a meal, kid.”

If you notice the shift in his tone, it's quickly distracted by the way he pushes a fry around the plate.

“Jesus, Rogers, it’s not gonna kill you.”

“I’m old.” Nevertheless, he pulls the glass towards him. “We can’t write off anything.”

You snort. “Just drink the milkshake, Stevie. It’s good for ya.”

Burgers, greasy, well-salted fries and exorbitantly large glasses of milkshakes; it’s probably the most American Steve’s felt in a while. The minute he takes a bite from it, his body sinks down with a content sigh that has you grinning.

“Tomorrow, the first stop; Chicago, right?” He takes another bite from his burger, watching you scroll through pictures of the motel for him.

“Yep.”

“We got plans there?” The food shouldn’t taste this good, but it does. Probably one of the better establishments you were going to encounter on this trip but he can’t really be bothered by the implications at that moment.

“I got a few ideas.” You pull your phone back before returning to your meal. “But mostly we’ll be figuring it out as we go. Survey results dictate that we don't follow a tight schedule.”

"Today we're in Morocco. Next week we'll be in Lebanon," she sings slowly. "After that who knows?"

"Depends on where we're needed next." He takes aim and throws his dart.

Beyond all the restrictiveness and tediousness, he was just really fucking tired of them.

“You know," you pipe up, observing his features for a second, "you’ve been doing this thing a lot."

“What?”

“Spacing out.” Ah, fuck. “You did it back there, at the museum too.”

Steve simply shrugs, head turned down to his plate. “It just happens."

“How long?”

As long as you'd known him, he had always been attentive, on his toes, waiting.

“A little while.” He can pinpoint exactly when and what had lead to it. Studying through window blinds, old uniforms, and all of a sudden his path for the future started to get less clear.

“Have you talked to anyone about it?”

“Not specifically."

You pause. "Does anyone know?”

Steve’s next exhale comes at a delayed pace.

"You'd be the first."

Your lips press together in a thin line, deep crevice between your eyebrows.

"I've just been tired lately," he deflects. It wasn’t a whole lie, but it feels wrong. He had time. He had time. He has to remind himself that he had time.

Steve continues quickly, “I'll be fine. Look, I'll be gettin' loads more sleep now anyway.”

He leans forward to steal a fry off your plate and it works to an extent. There's a small smile that pulls at one side of your face.

"Steve."

"Sweetheart." He cracks a smile. “I'll be fine, I promise. What have you been writing lately?”

The swift subject change has you furrowing your brows, and then a sigh when it registers. However, you drag yourself forward to take a sip from your milkshake.

“Nothing,” you admit. “Haven't written in a while.”

It’s the silence that lingers in the air that prompts you to go on.

“I dunno.” You twirl a fry around the plate. “Been hard to find something to write about.”

Steve finishes off the last of his burger, wiping his hands down on a napkin.

“When was the last time?”

Your eyes squint in contemplation. “Six, seven years ago?”

“Can I get y’all anything else?” the server chirps from beside the booth, refiling your glasses of water, while balancing a tray in another.

You look at Steve and he shakes his head. “No, thank you. Just the bill, please.”

“Sure thing,” he says, setting down a plate with a slice of pie. “Enjoy.”

You glance up in confusion. “I think you have the wrong table.”

“It’s on the house.” It’s clear who it’s for, though the answer remains up in the air.

Steve sends the man a side-smile. “Appreciate it.”

The server nods, before leaving the both of you alone.

“Told you your stupid cap isn’t going to do anything.” You laugh when Steve pulls it off his head and sets it down beside him, running a hand through his flattened hair.

“Just got us a free piece of pie, I’d say it has some use.” He passes you a spoon and pushes the plate so it’s in the middle of you both.

“Right, because it’s your fashion sense that won them over, Steven.” You break a piece of the crust. ”Lift your leg up, show ‘em your slacks. Maybe we could get an extra slice for the road.”

He laughs, partly at you and partly at the absurd amount of whipped cream on the pie itself. It was generous, to say the least, and melting all over the still-warm filling. Pretty as a picture.

“Fuck, that’s good.” You sigh, chewing thoughtfully. “I need to earn free food privileges if this is what I’m missing out on.”

“The pie’s the better end of the deal.” He shovels a spoonful into his mouth. “A lot of the time it’s beer bottles with your face on it.”

“Classy,” you reply, having seen exactly what he was referring to. “What's next? Your face on underwear?”

Steve's silence and his failing ability to hide a pained smile has you faltering in your movements.

"Really?"

"I've been shown pictures," he complains. "From what I know, they're not sold as a collection or retail line."

"Which means they're customized," you continue, fingers pinched together explanatory. "Does that make it better or worse?"

Steve's nose scrunches and he hides his distaste with a spoonful of pie in his mouth. "You tell me."

He’s a little grateful that you don’t shy away from pulling his leg. Makes him feel normal, like he was more than a concept; if there was something so hilarious about Steve as an ambassador for patriotic fireworks then it means that he hasn’t lost himself completely.

“What’s an average person gotta do around here to be inspiration for horrifying underwear, huh?” You send the last piece of pie his way. "Get printed on cereal boxes, et cetra et cetra."

“Get kidnapped, maybe.” He accepts it without an argument. “They’ll stick you on a couple of milk cartons.”

You narrow your eyes at him and he sends you a sly smile in return.

"Invent something.”

“Hell, maybe I will.” You wave your spoon around dangerously. “Get my name in a textbook.”

“You could do that,” he agrees. “You'd have the resources from the new job. A whole team under you, funding.”

You narrow your eyes at him. "Very smooth, Rogers."

His smile comes back bashful. “Why don’t you want to take it? I thought it’s everything you’ve worked towards.”

“It is.” You collect foam off the side of your glass with the straw, a distraction from having to look at him. “I’m just not sure I’m ready for it.”

“Is it the job or something else?”

Your lips press together, curling inward, but you don’t respond. It tells him he’s clocked you scarily fast.

“Job’s mine whenever I want it,” you say, eyes still trained on anything you could fiddle with. “I’m just not sure I’ll ever be ready."

Steve only slips his hand into yours the same way you did at the museum and squeezes. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to."

You give him a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes, and he returns it before you shake your head in an attempt to change the mood.

“I’m not kidding about the slacks, by the way.” It immediately relieves some of the tension that had settled in comfortably.

"Yeah, hold on, I'll lift my leg up," Steve affirms, clearing his throat.

“Damn right. Let’s see if we can score another flavour, I know you get hungry at night.”

Next part

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #captain america x reader #captain america x you #mcu fic #marvel fic #steve rogers fic #captain america fic #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers series #captain america fluff #captain america angst #captain america series

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elizabethxolsenn · 2 years ago

Text

No Worry, silly Mama.

Mama!Wanda x Little!fem!R

Jealousy. Sadness/Fluff

You and your mama had a biggg day planned ahead of you. You two were gonna go to the store, and then to lunch with Agatha! You couldn’t wait!

“Baby! Get dressed please!” You heard Wanda Yell from downstairs. You immediately picked out some sweats and a Blue hoodie -of Wandas ofc- and ran downstairs, tripping on the last step. “Fuck!” You squealed. Wanda ran to you and picked you up.

“Are you okay Detka?” She asked, wiping some hair from your face. You nodded quickly, and tried to get down. Wanda giggled and leaned to your ear, “No more naughty words for the day sweetie.” She whispered, trying not to laugh.

“Yes mama! Sorry Mama!” You said, still trying to get out. She let you down and you ran to the couch, grabbing your favorite stuffie. Wanda followed you and sat on the couch. “Come sit on mamas lap.” She ordered. You instantly obeyed. You were always so well behaved for Wanda.

You felt a brush run though your short hair. Your mama started at the bottom, trying to get rid of tangles. And made her way to the top. “There you go. Is that what you’re wearing today angel?” She mumbled, Turing you to face her. You nodded quickly. She smiled and stood up, grabbing her phone and purse. “Mama! Hurry!” You yelled.

She rolled her eyes playfully and followed you out the door, locking it. She put you in the passenger seat and buckled you, before sitting in her own seat. When she started to drive, she handed you her phone and the aux. “Anyfing?” You asked, a glimmer in your eyes. “Yes little love. Anything.” You smiled hard and went to her Spotify app.

Your music that you played included;

The whole frozen soundtrack. Where you are - Moana. And basically all Disney music.

You bopped your head as well as singing loudly , along with your mama. You always thought Wanda got bored of your music, so you found some of her music and put it on.

Your mamas eyes widened when she heard the first lyric ; ‘Hump me! Fuck me!’— she immediately grabbed the phone from your hands, causing a small gasp. She put on ‘Dig a little deeper’ and gave it back to you.

“Mama you’re silly!” You giggled. “You can’t listen to Mamas Big girl music.” She whispered, Turing to the right. “Otay Mama!” You said still having a case of the giggles.

/////////

When you arrived to the store, you stayed by Wandas side the whole time. You knew the rules when it came to public. You watched as Wandas brunette hair swung a bit, with all the pep in her step.

You passed the stuffie isle and immediately looked up at Wanda. She hadn’t seemed to notice. You tugged her sleeve, and she looked down. She tilted her head and smiled. You pointed aggressively at the Stuffies and she looked at you.

“If you’re good you can get one before we leave.” She said cupping your chin and pulling you in for a small peck. You huffed loudly and sat yourself on the hard tile. It wasn’t fair! You were always a good little girl for your mama. Why couldn’t you get it now? “Baby, please don’t be a brat right now.” She said kneeling to your level.

You made a -Hmph!- noise and looked away. “What’s going on in that little head?” She asked, making you look at her. You’re eyes met hers. “I just- I always good for mama, and I wan’ Tuffie now!” You whined, a couple tears running down your face. Wanda wiped them away. “And I know you’ll be the best girl, and wait. We’re almost done Malyshka.”

You sighed, but agreed. You didn’t want to argue with her. She helped you up and made you follow her to the make up isle. She grabbed some mascara, then slipped in a little something for you. You were to busy pouting to notice. She made little sparks with her magic, making you giggle and hug her.

//////

When you two were done, you practically dragged her to the stuffies. She laughed at your smile. “Which one do you want Lil’ Love?” You grabbed a lama and put it in the basket. You had left your other one in the car, so they didn’t feel sad watching you pick their new friend. Wanda thought you had the sweetest soul.

/////

When you arrived at the restaurant, you two immediately saw Agatha, waiting for the two of you. Wanda helped you out of the car, you were a big upset because you couldn’t bring your friends. But it was all okay.

“Y/n! Hello little dove.” Agatha said, giving you a hug. “You’re looking delicious, as always.” You blushed at the comment, backing away and holding Wandas hand.

“Wanda! Hello!” Agatha greeted. Wanda shot a glare at the older witch. “Agatha.” The three of you went inside, Wanda had you order off the kids menu. You didn’t mind.

“May I take your orders?” The waiter said, looking at you first. You looked at Wanda. “Wan’ Mama do for me.” You whispered. “You’re absolutely adorable.” Agatha said pressing a kiss to your hand. Wanda sighed heavy. “She’ll have the tenders.”

///////////

Throughout the lunch, Agatha kept kissing your hands and making flirty comments. You obviously hadn’t realized. Wanda however , Had.

“Wanda, you have such a pretty little toy, could I use her sometime?” Agatha said looking at Wanda, who was gripping the table, knuckles white.

“She’s not a toy. And I’m not sharing.”

“I may have to take you home and claim you for myself!” Agatha laughed and held your hand- ignoring Wandas previous comment- You didn’t realize what she meant, because Wanda said only Mama could do that. You shook it off and smiled.

“Could we get the check!” Wanda asked, frustrated. She paid for the meals and dragged you out. “Bye bye Aggie!” You said all giddy. Wanda rolled her eyes. You finally seen this and when you two were in the car you grabbed her hand. Your Mama took it away from you and drove off.

You were deeply hurt and sat holding your stuffies hands the whole way home.

////////

After Wanda got you in the house, she grabbed you a bottle from the fridge that had some milk in it and brought it to the living room. “Mama! What wrong?” You said pulling on her sleeve. She sighed and sat next to you in the couch, setting your bottle down.

“Baby you let her touch and kiss you. Only Mama can do that…” you instantly realized what she meant. You felt terrible. You didn’t even realize. “ ‘m sorry mama! Baby no realize..” you whispered, getting in her lap. “It’s okay. You’re to little to even see what was going on.” She whispered playing with your hair. “Sometimes Mama gets worried, that you’re gonna leave to Agatha.” As

Your eyes widened. “Nuh-uh! Never! No worry, silly Mama. I never leave.” You said before pressing multiple kisses to her face so she could cheer up. It cause her to chuckle a bit. “I’m glad..Mama got you something” you lit up as she pulled something out of the bag.

You gasped, it was hello kitty lip gloss!! You hugged your mama tight. You were rarely allowed to wear stuff like this and you were so happy. “Tank you Mama!” You squealed. She nodded and hugged you back. “Baby sorry. For being mean.” You said, looking In her eyes. “It’s okay little love.” You opened the lipgloss and read the label.

“Wanna wear it?” You nodded and Wanda opened the plastic bottle. She motioned for you to pucker your lips and you did. She quickly stole a small kiss from you. You giggled before she put on the gloss. When she was done you looked at her.

“I pretty now?” You asked with a big grin. “You’re always so pretty. Gloss or none.” She mumbled, kissing your cheek.

“Wanna show Natty?” “Yes please!”. Wanda pulled it her phone and you two took a duck lips selfie, sending it to Natasha.

///////

#mcu fluff #wanda maximoff #wanda x y/n #lesbian #little!reader #fluff #mommy wanda #pure fluff #wanda mcu #wanda x little!reader #wanda x you

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modelbus · 2 years ago

Note

CONGRATULATIONS ON 500 FOLLOWERS !!! WHOOP WHOOP ! You deserve it :DD

May I please request a MTommyinnit x M reader? (TOMMYINNIT; CHILDHOOD FRIENDS TO LOVERS; SOULMATES?)

Where Tommy distinctly remembers meeting a foreign Mreader as a child during one of his family's camping trip, but he can't really be too sure because he was so young and he doesn't have any pictures with said Mreader. Meanwhile, Mreader doesn't understand why he's so attached to the framed picture of him and a young blonde kid from a camping trip he went on years ago. Flashforward to now, they go back to the camping grounds from their childhood to maybe try to find each other again? Except when they arrive with their respective families, a goose literally attacks them (Tommy and Mreader) and chases them until they run into each other.

P.S yes the geese are soulmate geese who bother their person until they run into their soulmate lmao

PPS I love your works so much, I look forward to your updates all the time :')) Keep up the amazing work fr

THANK YOU SO MUCH! Also, I find soulmate geese so funny, definitely one of the best soulmate AU’s

Pairing: CC!Tommy x Male!Reader

Childhood Friends to Lovers - Soulmate AU

“Well, is it like you remembered?” Your mom asks, but you don’t respond.

You’re too busy looking around the campground, searching for a certain boy. The last time your family came here, years ago, you made an instant best friend with a boy named Tommy. Your mom must’ve taken a photo of you two because the framed photo has sat on your desk ever since.

But now you were here, ten years to the day, for another camping trip. You were absolutely determined to find this kid and figure out why kid you was so damn attached.

Obviously your plan had a few flaws. The biggest one? You have no fucking clue what he looks like. In the photo he was blond and tall, taller than you, but that was ten years ago. For all you know he could’ve dyed his hair and stopped growing!

“Why don’t you walk around? There’s a lake you could probably get some cool photos at for your friends or something.” Your mom suggests. She lowers her voice. “Your dad’s struggling with the tent, just give him a bit.”

You turn around to see the entire tent collapse on your dad. Anything is better than being roped into that mess, even trying to hunt down the mystery guy.

“Yeah, alright. Text me if you need me!” With that, you make your escape.

The campground is actually really full. It is prime vacation time though, so it makes sense. You aren't quite sure if that makes your job easier or harder. It meant a higher likelihood of the guy being here but made it harder to actually find him.

Somehow you instinctively make your way down near the water, where a few geese are scattered around. Cute, but you know they can and will bite you if you get any closer. Luckily you aren't seeing any goslings. You raise your phone, opening the camera app to take a photo. Who doesn't appreciate photos of geese?

Of course, the second your eyes are off the geese, one decides it fucking hates you. The goose charges at you, all fluffed up feathers and angry honking noises.

"Woah, hey!" You exclaim, backing away slowly.

It doesn't seem to be slowing down though, still advancing. You actually like not having to get a rabies shot--can geese get rabies? You don't want to find out--so you turn tail and run. Apparently that was also the wrong move, as it chases you.

There's just no winning with this stupid goose.

"I'm dead, I'm so fucking dead." You pant, racing through unfamiliar tents.

As you disrupt everyone's camping experience, they stop to stare at you. You must look like a madman, running from a goose like this. But they bite! And you have a will to live!

Risking a glance back, you stare at the goose. You'd think it looked almost majestic if it wasn't actively trying to kill you. Wings spread wide, it was showcasing its beauty. Unfortunately, it was still chasing you.

"Leave me alone, you fucker!" Someone shouts.

You turn your head away from the goose and to the noise, still running, only to crash into something. You barely see a flash of red before you land hard on your ass. The goose is definitely going to kill you.

"Oh God, I'm going to die to a fucking goose." You groan.

"My friends are never letting me live it down if I die to one of these fuckers."

Whipping your head around, you realize the thing you crashed into wasn't actually a "thing." It was a person. A blond boy was also sprawled out on the grass next to you, in a red shirt. He looks strangely familiar, but you don't really have time to think about that right now.

There're two geese now, both honking at you two. At least they seem to be getting some amusement out of your inevitable death.

"You were getting chased by one too?" The boy guesses.

"Yeah, thing just charged at me!"

"Me too!"

He grins at you, and for a second you forget about the geese. There was something so agonizingly familiar about that smile.

"I think they're not angry anymore?" He stands up, and you realize the geese stopped making noises. Now they're just staring at you two. If you didn't know better, you would've thought they seemed impatient.

He offers you a hand to help you up, and you take it.

"Now that we survived a goose attack together, I feel like we're practically best friends." You joke.

"Those who fight off savage geese together stay together, as I always say." He agrees, nodding. "I'm Tommy, by the way."

The name strikes something in you, and you suddenly realize why he seems so familiar. Blond hair, tall as fuck. You had completely forgotten the name Tommy, but hearing it now you remember. What were the chances a random goose actually chased you into meeting the kid you met ten years ago?

"Weird question, but you wouldn't have happened to come here ten years ago, would you?"

Tommy's face changes from amusement to shock, jaw dropping. The expression change tells you everything you need to know, the answer to your question.

"No fucking way." He gasps.

"Fucking way."

One of the geese lets out a honk, making you both jump and turn toward it. The geese waddle away, considerably calmer than when they were trying to attack you both.

"This is fucking crazy." Tommy laughs, running a hand through his hair.

"You're telling me! A goose chased me from the other side of the campground to here!" You exclaim. "It's like it knew what it was doing!"

"They were conspiring against us!"

You laugh at his words, and he almost seems to glow at it.

"Hey, could I get your number? So I don't have to go ten years wondering about you again." He asks, forming it into another joke.

"Of course." He hands you his phone, and you quickly put in your number and save your contact. "There. This time we can't disappear on each other."

"Hey! That was your fault!"

"How was it my fault?! You were the one who left!"

"You're the one who isn't English! Who the fuck isn't English?!"

As you joke with each other like no time has passed, something weird happens. It's like a piece of you has slotted into place, a piece you didn't even know was missing.

Weird.

#tommyinnit x you #tommyinnit x reader #tommyinnit #tommyinnit mcyt #mcyt #mcyt imagine #tommyinit dsmp #dsmp #dsmp imagine #dsmp tommy #tommy mcyt #tommyinnit imagine

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violettelueur · 4 years ago

Text

— ITADORI YUJI + FUSHIGURO MEGUMI + GOJO SATORU + INUMAKI TOGE || TEXTING THEM THAT YOU ARE GETTING HIT ON

↳ featuring : itadori yuji + fushiguro megumi + gojo satoru + inumaki toge from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : swearing + grammar issues

↳ form : headcanons

↳ published : 08 april

↳ pronouns : non specified in headcanon

↳ request : My ask got eaten :( So I'm requesting again! Can I get megumi, yuuji, gojo, and inumaki reacting to their s/o texting them they're getting hit on? As in they're in a grocery store or mall but just away from each other? Thanks! Love you!

↳ barista’s notes : so...i decided to add a man and his cat in my wishlist on amazon, so thank you to the anon that told me about that manga and the other suggestions are on my reading list - i also ordered komi can’t communicate since my cousin told to me read it...so i am going to give it a go...by spending my money on volume one ʕ ㅇ ᴥ ㅇʔ but yeah, i am still thinking about going to central london to get more manga because i am an impatient barista (don’t worry, i am not breaking covid rules since everything will be open on the 12 april by government guldelines) moving on from that, i hope you enjoy your cup of classic black coffee and please come again soon ʕ •ᴥ•ʔゝ☆

When you and Itadori go shopping together, he is the type to go somewhere randomly without telling you because he got distracted by the sweet section of the store.

So overall, you do lose your boyfriend from time to time because of his habit of his - it’s adorable because he has a cute smile on his face when you find him, but you do get a little annoyed when he does it.

So when he went on his own trip, you decided that it was the best time to do a little prank since you just needed him to come to you - also, you weren’t bothered to go find him.

So when you text him that you are getting hit on, Itadori will reply to you with an emoji like this 🤔 or a text saying “Eh? Where are you, babe?”

When you reply to him, he won’t text you back at all because, after one second of you texting him back, he is already behind you with his arms wrapped around your waist and his chin hooked on your shoulder - scaring you slightly.

Itadori will look around from side to side before asking you if you are okay because he thought he had missed the person before he came - which is lowkey impossible because this guy can run a while 10 laps in 3 minutes.

Like he would be like ʕ·ᴥ·　ʔ ʕ´•ᴥ•`ʔ ʕ　·ᴥ·ʔ - where is this bitch?

When you giggle and tell him that it’s a small prank, he will pout at you before calling you a ‘little meanie’ because you are - like why would you do that to your poor axolotl of a boyfriend? Like that is so mean Y/N…

Give him a few kisses on his face and he will

Of course, after his little whining session, he will show you all the snacks he has picked up for your movie date and how he wanted to pick up more...before you decided to pull that little stunt on him.

So your wallet better be ready for the sweet treats he is going to purchase - sorcerers get paid a lot so….

It’s rare that you and Fushiguro ever get separated during a little grocery shopping trip since he seems like a well-organised person.

What I mean by that is that he will have a shopping list on his phone or one he wrote out before you guys went out - since he just wants the process to be easy and quick.

However, there are times when he does have to separate from you because he missed something from the list - he is perfect with some imperfections.

So during this lovely rare time of him disappearing, you being the wonderful person decided to do the little prank that you have been seeing on TikTok - because you know Fushiguro doesn’t have that app.

So after waiting a few minutes, you decided to message your boyfriend that you are getting hit on by some random stranger.

You know he is coming to find you when you just see the ‘read’ below your text message - he does reply to your message but there are times where you just see that annoying ‘read’

After a few more minutes, you notice a feeling of a hand on your lower back and Fushiguro next to you, who is giving a glare to the side of the aisle that you are in - the poor innocent customer that is a victim to it.

He will ask if you are okay in a softer tone (because you bring out that side of him) and when you tell him you were just playing a little prank on him...he will give you a fed-up look.

However, he would also hide his face in the crook of your neck because he is really shy about how he rushed over to you to make sure you are okay - only for you to play with him.

“Did Gojo put you up to this?”

Yeah, he is annoyed at you but he is happy that you are okay - just let him hold you if he wants to because he deserves to.

SO...when you and Gojo are grocery shopping together, he is the type that will drag you around everywhere, especially somewhere in the bakery section.

Just know there are also times when Gojo will go on a little detour on his own like Itadori - because you are adamant to get the food that you need.

However, what gets annoying is when Gojo gets hit on by other people in the store when you are in front of him - like hello?

So imagine when he isn’t around you…

In the case of that, you decided to have a little payback with him and let him know how it feels, now from his perspective.

When you inform him that you are getting hit on by someone, just know you don’t need to close your phone because he will text you immediately - like within a second.

“Excuse me 😀 send the location honey~”

So when you do tell him where you are located, he will run to where you are with something that he found in one section as a weapon - maybe like a large leek or a cucumber (yes, it does weird people out)

When he finds you and doesn’t see the ‘person’ that was flirting with you, he will immediately ask you for their location - with the little glasses tilt and everything.

When you told him that it was a lie, the seriousness in his face just drops and now he has a huge pout and goes all whiny with you like “honey~ whyyy would you do that to me? Do you know how much I was worried about some random creep talking to you, and you do this to your handsome husband?” - dude...you ain’t even married yet.

He will now cling on to you like a koala, whining how mean you are and how much he is hurt by your actions - so if you suffocate him with affection, he will slowly quickly forgive you.

First I need to point out, texting Inumaki is the most amazing thing on this Earth because he can say what he wants to say - memes, gifs and everything.

Going back to the headcanon, when you and Inumaki go grocery shopping together, it’s basically a little date and the most random visit to the store because you both got nothing planned - probably Maki forced you to go, so you can prepare the hotpot that everyone was planning for.

So when you both decided it was best to split up the ingredients on the shopping list and split up to get the job done quicker, that’s when you get the idea since it was the perfect opportunity.

When you are about done with your side of the shopping, you decided to put your little prank into action - and it’s perfect for you as a couple because you both probably have a prank war going on with each other.

So when you text him that you were getting hit on, Inumaki will send you a whole gif as a response... there is no question about it.

You will probably laugh at it before he comes running in from the side - he is also the type that will slide off to the side before coming back into view as he runs towards you.

“Tuna, tuna?” - I’m laughing as I am typing this.

He is also the type to grab your arms and shake you lightly when you don’t answer quick enough (for him) - he is just worried.

When you laugh and tell him that it’s just a prank, Inumaki will give you a little look - like it is a mix of surprised and just ʕ – ᴥ – ʔ

“Okaka!” - Inumaki will say this to you before crossing his arms in ‘anger’ because he was actually worried… as he embarrassed himself for you.

For him to forgive you, just collect some other ingredients to have tuna mayo onigiri for him - because a way to a man’s heart is through his stomach ;)

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peterthepark · 3 years ago

Text

begin again (4)

pairing: tasm!peter parker x f!reader

tags: crush galore, pining, mentions of loss and gwen stacy, mentions of family issues, mentions of loneliness, like 4k words of fluff and plot

summary: you and peter leave new york for dinner for your cousin’s wedding. he senses that your family is hiding a huge secret — until his suspicions are confirmed when a familiar guest arrives late to dinner.

note: a lot of this chapter contained filler and just tons of pining between pete and the reader buttttt… we got a big bad coming up real soon in this story!! thx for the reads!!!

missing out? ➤ [my masterlist] - [series masterpost]

Peter Parker did like weddings. He was in love with the idea of other people in love, and to witness such a sacred moment between couples was considered an honor to him. Maybe it was because he wished that he’d get to experience something like that one day. One day, hopefully. It made him smile. Peter was one of those people who had his life extensively planned out — from how many kids he wanted (he even had baby names in the notes app of his phone), if he wanted dogs or cats in the house, what kind of husband and what kind of father he’d be. He had to admit that when he was with Gwen, he imagined that exact life with her. He imagined running away, abandoning New York and the suit for a family. He wanted to settle down in the quiet suburbs, maybe somewhere in Maryland or upstate Maine. Peter had this vision of letting Gwen decorate their little house however she wanted, because frankly he wasn’t the best interior designer. He wanted a big yard and a trampoline, perhaps even a climbing wall. He wanted to wake up next to the blonde-haired girl and not have to worry about Spider-Man.

Yet, the universe always somehow ruined his plans. Peter wasn’t entirely pessimistic, knowing that if he tried hard enough, maybe he’d have that life of his own one day. Just not with Gwen. And that’d be okay with him, because he knew it would be okay with her; there had to be a reason she was present for only a sliver of his life.

For someone who liked being holed up in his apartment and playing video games, Peter found it unlike himself to be hauling luggage into the parking structure below the apartment.

“I’m surprised you even own a car. I never see you take it.” Peter’s voice echoed against the concrete pillars as he threw the bags into your trunk.

“You should be surprised I even have a license.” You grinned, catching his eye in the rear-view mirror before he circled around to the passenger seat. He looked at you nervously, like your words worried him. “Oh, trust me. You’ll be fine, but maybe now’s the time for religion because you’ll be praying once I hit a curb.”

“Wouldn’t it be better if I drove?” Peter gestured to the steering wheel, gandering at how your personality even affected the interior of your vehicle — the Spider-Man themed air freshener that hung down the mirror, the album copies you had inside the dash, the little plush toy that sat in the backseat staring lifelessly at him. Everything was you even in the car and he was basking in it and all its glorified cuteness.

“Is it because I’m a woman?” The question stunned him, and his mouth started moving quicker than his brain, therefore running him speechless. “I’m kidding, Parker. Don’t worry, I won’t be accusing you of misogyny anytime soon.”

He laughed nervously. “Very funny, Y/N.” Peter glanced out the window next to him with wide eyes and a hand through his hair.

This was going to be a long trip.

New York to New Jersey was almost a two hour drive. But with you as the driver, Peter had a feeling that two hours would turn into four. You had stopped at a couple convenience shops already to use the bathroom, returning to the car with a handful of candy and chips that Peter had to restrain himself from eating because he didn’t want to seem rude. You insisted with bright eyes after you’d noticed him staring at the bags and handed him the same brand of granola bar he had offered you previously in his apartment; his eyes never left your face as he took it from you with a smile.

That time, your fingers brushed over his.

The Cure played softly on the radio as you drummed your hands against the steering wheel. You were humming along to the lyrics as you checked your blind spot; in the mirror, you caught Peter’s eyes looking at you.

You bit back a grin, and he noticed.

“I wonder how Webster is doing.” You thought aloud, turning off your signal light.

“Hope he choked on catnip or something.”

“Hey! That’s rude.” You raised your eyebrows at him. You attempted to reach for your slurpee, hands fumbling as you multitasked looking at the highway and finding your drink. “I’m sure Mrs. Rodriguez is pleased with having a feline presence for once instead of those annoying chihuahuas.”

Peter shook his head, raising the plastic slurpee cup to you. He had figured you were going to take it from him, but you simply angled your head and suctioned your lips around the straw, slurping loudly. His eyes nearly bulged out of his sockets at the motion, clearing his throat mousily as he looked out the window once more.

The cityline was pretty, but the reflection of you in the glass sporting a beanie and scarf was even prettier.

Peter found himself laughing more than he had laughed in a while. He hadn’t met someone with such similar humor to him, someone who understood every nerdy reference he made, someone who could catch up with the speed in which his brain worked, someone who matched his level of energy and more.

Not that dating had any correlation towards you — but when Peter first re-introduced himself to the world of dating and dating apps (per Aunt May’s latest obsession to his surprise), he really couldn’t stand it. In every girl he saw, or at least tried to see, he would end up comparing them to Gwen. Even worse, he’d try to find Gwen in them. It wasn’t that he was doing it on purpose, but he wanted to seal the hole in his chest that Gwen had left so suddenly, and each date became harder for his conscience to keep up with.

But now, talking and getting to know more of you, not once did he catch himself trying to find Gwen in the innocence of your smile or the crinkles by your eyes.

Peter saw you.

He didn’t feel the need to compare, instead he wished that he could introduce Gwen to you. He wanted to tell her how amazing it was to hold a conversation with you, how you were so understanding of his loss, how you bickered with him like you’d known him forever. You understood him so well, and it riddled him speechless every time.

“So, just to prepare you, Peter. My extended family is very — very eccentric.”

He snapped his fingers. “Ah, I suppose that’s where you get it from.”

“Peter, seriously, listen to me. They’re a bunch of rich east coast pricks with CEOs for husbands and probably haven’t worked a day in their life. They just reek of privilege and old money. Had it not been for my cousin… and what I owe this family… we wouldn’t be on our way right now.” You exhaled loudly. Peter noted how your knuckles turned white around the steering wheel. “They’re super judgemental, like a bunch of snakes. Don’t be surprised if they say some bullshit about you or bullshit about me. And I don’t know why, but my family has something against Spider-Man, especially my aunt’s boyfriend so please don’t… don’t bring anything up.”

Peter had an inkling that something was horribly suspicious about this extended family of yours. The only people who seemed to hate his identity were criminals and J. Jonah Jameson. Maybe even a couple more people, but a whole family except you? He was already on edge. A privileged family with old money full of nothing but assholes seemed to really fit the description of high-class criminals. Peter groaned internally at his thought process. Was he really labelling your family as criminals right now? On the way for your cousin’s wedding rehearsal and three-course dinner that you graciously invited him to? Did his service as New York’s vigilante influence his mind that much?

However, Peter wanted to be meticulous. He didn’t know what he was walking into but the Spider-Man suit was folded neatly at the bottom of his luggage if anything. At least he’d have eyes on you. Protect you, even though you weren't his responsibility.

“They don’t know you work for the Bugle?”

You shook your head. “You could say I’m the Spider-Man of this family because no one knows what I’m up to and I’d like to keep it that way. We haven’t seen each other in person for years.”

The Spider-Man of this family.

“What do they know, Y/N?”

Peter had realized you’d woven a pretty intricate web of lies for your family. They knew that you lived in Chelsea, when you actually lived in Queens, working a marketing job for a graphic design company that was supposed to be up and coming. They knew that you’d been dating around, and you stressed to Peter that the last time you had talked to them, they assumed you had a boyfriend. You told Peter there was no boyfriend, obviously, and you haven’t even dated anyone in years after Sam — but you were being pressured into “remarrying,” quoting your Aunt Katherine, ‘Boobs eventually get saggier. You’re running out of time.’ Peter could tell how stressful this was for you, and with every approaching mile, he could see the build-up of your anxiety through your rambling.

“Y/N, you’ll be okay. It’s gonna be fine.” Peter comforted you, turning in his seat towards you. “If anything, maybe they’ll end up loving me more than you.”

“By all means, please. Save me from my cursed family.”

“It was my plan all along, you know. Get an invite to your cousin Janice’s wedding, make an interesting impression, then inherit all that money.” He winked with a playful smile. “My plan is finally coming together.”

“Jessica, not Janice. Janice is the sister.” You chuckled, “But there’s really no difference. Both are a bitch.”

You weren’t exaggerating when you said your family was made of generational wealth. The brick-paved driveway was the biggest sign that Peter had drastically underestimated how powerful this family actually was. What kind of people had this kind of money just laying around? There were trimmed hedges and a large tree by the three-arch entrance to the estate, in which a balcony overlooked the cars in the driveway and the tall mermaid fountain in the middle. The grass was extended across the field in acres, while the orange lanterns against the stone pillars illuminated the glossy exterior of your car. Even in the night, the estate was undeniably beautiful — but Peter had a feeling that the residents of this place were not, at least in a character sense.

How come you were living in an eight-story shitty apartment in New York when your family had the means of placing you in this mansion? It intrigued him. But, he doesn’t pry based on the tight clench of your jaw as you eyed him, pulling the handbrake roughly into place.

“Smile and nod, Y/N.” You smoothed down the hairs sticking out at the back of your head in a panic. Peter would’ve found it cute, but you were quite literally having a mental breakdown and flirting would’ve been highly inappropriate of him. “And you,” You faced Peter. “Smile and nod.”

The dimples of his cheeks lit up. “I got it, Y/N.”

“Maybe not like that — Pete, why are you always smiling at me that way?”

The boy shook his head without uttering a word, stretching over the console to run his fingers through the stubborn hair on the top of your head. The gesture was soft, and there was a twinkle in Peter’s brown eyes as he slowly pulled his hand back to look at you, letting it brush against the crook of your neck — as if he didn’t want to stop, as if he wanted to keep running his hands through your hair until it was perfect, just to mess it up in the end and do it over and over again.

Just to touch you.

He looked like sunshine in the darkness of the car and you were bathing in the ardor of his curious gaze.

You couldn’t help but glance at his lips.

“There you go. All better.” He spoke delicately. His voice was just above a whisper. He rubbed his jaw, looking at you intently to gauge your reaction.

“All better.”

Frankly, the thought of seeing your family again made you sick. When your parents had passed, they were at your side for a while — they were supportive and present, and they did what family was supposed to do: care. Until they found out your parents were caught up in some debt situation. They turned their back on you the moment they discovered it, not wanting to burden themselves with the failures of your mother and father even though you as a teenager had nothing to do with it. You weren’t entirely fed with a silver spoon; your parents had settled down for a comfortable and casual life away from the east coast, so you never grew up in the same environment as your other family members. You never understood the Spider-Man discourse amongst your relatives either, debating over dinner about the hero as if he were some New York politician.

You knew your family was carrying a huge secret, but you had no idea what it could be.

Yet, you and your neighbor stood nervously side-by-side on the marble porch. You exchanged a couple nervous looks, hands clasped in front of you. Your breaths were short, and your voice was tight with worry. Your energy was making him anxious.

“Are you sure you rang the doorbell, Peter?”

“Trust me, I rang the doorbell.”

“Is the doorbell working?”

“I don’t know, Y/N. Is this even a doorbell? Do rich people have doorbells?”

“What if it’s not a doorbell?”

“You’re telling me this isn’t a doorbell?”

“Can we stop saying doorbell?” With a groan, Peter pressed the button by the ridiculously large front door. You could hear it chime a soft classical tune from outside the mansion. A mousy squeak left your mouth as you heard voices on the other side. “Yeah, it’s definitely a doorbell.”

“Could you stop talking now?” Peter winced, purposely elbowing you in the hip as the front door opened.

Aunt Katherine stood there, proudly modeling what could’ve been a custom-made dress by the owner of whatever luxury brand she was obsessing over lately. Peter instantly saw through her, especially how her ‘welcoming’ smile didn’t even reach her eyes. She didn’t even try hiding her distaste as she recognized you.

“Y/N! Heavens, you made it!” She laughed fakely, drawing out her words as she moved to embrace you. “And I see you’ve finally brought a guest along. A handsome guest. What a surprise.”

You awkwardly stepped back from her embrace, mirroring the fake smile of your relative. Peter realized you were so used to pretending among these people, and had he not known your hatred for this family, he would’ve believed your smile was incredibly real. Even in the face of backhanded compliments.

“Aunt Kathy, this is my friend from New York…”

Peter extended a hand out.

“Peter. You can just call me — call me Peter. Very nice to meet you, Katherine.” He smiled graciously, and you had to admit he was putting up a pretty good front. “Thank you so much for the invite, we’re honored to be here.”

Like the cougar she was, you recognized your aunt’s mischievous smirk from anywhere.

“Oh, Peter! Please, call me Kathy!” You stifled a laugh behind your hand as she pressed a wet kiss to the brunette’s cheek, completely disregarding his offer for a handshake. Peter’s eyes widened, and he looked over at you with a plea for help.

“Now, now, Aunt Kathy. Let’s not seduce the guests.” You laughed at your own comment, before ushering the two of you inside. “Why don’t you give us a tour?”

Needless to say, neither you or Peter knew why any person would need seven fucking bathrooms. You understood two, or maybe even three, but seven was borderline insane.

Yet, for a mansion with seven bathrooms, it came to a surprise when Aunt Katherine had assigned you and Peter to one shared bedroom.

You immediately refused.

And you couldn’t help but groan at the irony of this entire situation.

Peter, however, took charming and becoming your family’s favorite to a different level.

“Kathy, please, it’s not an issue.” Your neighbor placed a respectable hand on her shoulder, smiling teasingly as you bore holes into him with your stare. “Me and Y/N are… we’re close,” He looked over at you with sincerity, but you mistook it as acting. “So, really it’s not a big deal. I don’t mind if she doesn’t.”

You were close.

That time, you willingly let the grin spread upon your face.

You supposed sharing a room wouldn’t be any different than being next-door neighbors.

Peter hasn’t worn a suit in ages. Formal attire or wearing any kind of shoe other than sneakers was something he never enjoyed; it reminded him of funerals, of the flowers, of the gravestones, and teary goodbyes. The same suit (basically the only one he owned) he wore to Gwen’s wake hung over the standing mirror in the bedroom. His eyes shifted over to your reflection standing in the bathroom, fiddling with the zipper on the side of your dress as you got ready.

As if you knew he was staring, you called out to him. You smoothed down the front of the dress with uncertainty written all over your features. Peter followed you into the bathroom, lazily leaning his head against the doorway as he admired you in the mirror above the sink.

“Is this too much for dinner?”

A little black dress.

“I think it’s perfect.” His eyes shamelessly trailed down the material, all the way to the strappy heels on your feet. “You look perfect, Y/N.”

“Flirt.” You curled a brow at him, gaining confidence in how he tried to cover up checking you out as you strutted out of the bathroom.

“What?”

He couldn’t focus.

“I said, Peter Parker,” You approached him, fixing the collar of his jacket. “You’re a flirt.”

He looked down at the movement, then to you.

“Am I not allowed to compliment a beautiful girl when I see one?”

You laughed almost like you hadn’t believed him.

“Oh, shut up.” You pushed his shoulder.

He rubbed the spot with a lingering smile, fingers ghosting over where you had touched him.

“I’m serious. You look beautiful.”

Your confidence faltered for a moment at the remark, and Peter’s heart swelled at the way you became flustered in front of him.

Peter’s face was in pain from fake-smiling by the time you stepped into the rehearsal dinner. He felt like every minute he spent in this goddamn house was similar to a knife twisting into his guts, as if every move he made was being judged and nitpicked, like if he was grinning too much or not enough. He wondered if the guests were judging his choice of casual clothes, or the unruliness of his hair because he hadn’t been to a barber in months. Peter was a simple man, therefore excess and ostentation hadn’t made any sense to him because he naturally didn’t understand the superficial life of luxury. As he looked around the estate, he knew why you felt so out of place. He couldn’t imagine you under layers of pearl necklaces, nor wearing diamonds around your wrists and fingers. He couldn’t picture you in cashmere cardigans or in the tallest of heels, covered in hairspray and expensive fragrance.

Peter liked you just the way he always thought of you: the you that barged into his living room, the you who’d knock on his bedroom wall and fail to knock on his front door. He liked you flustered, he liked you cocky. He liked you in your sloth-themed pajama pants and the oversized shirt that belonged to Sam. He liked your ramblings about Spider-Man as if he was the eight wonder of the world and the you who loved cats to death, especially Webster.

He liked your voice and how the name Peter Parker rolled off your tongue so easily.

Most of all, he liked you on the couch of his apartment, sipping your third cup of coffee while you teased him about his boxers with the biggest smile tugging on your lips; he liked you basking under the sunlight of his window, keenly gazing at him as if you’d known him for centuries.

In every scenario, every universe, every version of yourself that you had shown him — Peter knew he liked you and for once, he didn’t hate the idea.

In the mess of dinner guests, Peter’s hand somehow grasped around yours in an effort to not get lost. At this point, he had already lost track of who you were related to and the names of your relatives. He’d felt himself growing clammy at how the pads of your fingers pressed against his knuckles, especially how you had kept glancing back at him to see if he was still following — as if he’d ever leave your side. The pair of you stopped under the kitchen doorway, allowing you to talk to him freely over the chatter and the soft violin that played in the foyer.

Your hand left his, and he rubbed his fingertips together to savor the warmth your touch had left in his empty palm.

“I’m gonna go talk to some people.” You gestured over your shoulder, biting your lip nervously. “Did you wanna come with me?”

“Oh, I think I’ll just… chill out here. Do your thing, I wouldn't wanna keep you.” He looked around him, holding a glass of champagne that he didn’t intend to drink at all. “I’ll be here until you’re done, Y/N.”

“Are you sure?”

He waved you off with a nod and a smile. You mumbled a meek ‘okay’ at him; Peter watched as you weaved through the dinner guests and disappeared into the living room, leaning back against the doorway.

Peter didn’t know what to do with himself — not because you’d left him alone, but because his self-revelation about liking you was a bit jarring. It scared him as much as it made him excited. He hadn’t liked someone in ages, and even if he did, he was sure that he didn’t like them with the same intensity as he liked you.

He wondered if some part of you felt the same. He wasn’t oblivious to your touches or how you smiled at him, and although he was drunk that night, he remembered the way you looked at him under the stars.

There was a chatter of hushed voices in the kitchen.

“… practically a widow at such a ripe age.”

“I hear she’s brought someone. Boyfriend?”

“No, I doubt it. What kind of man would date a woman with such trauma? Poor girl. Y/N’s beautiful though, glowing. And her guest seems too… refined for someone like her.”

The women laughed.

If your family wanted to act fake, he could also play at that game.

Peter clenched his jaw, the tightness in his fist nearly snapping the stem of his champagne flute in half at the overheard conversation. With a huff, he left to go find you, not even bothering to say ‘excuse me’ as he brushed past mingling people. He panicked when he couldn’t find you at first, checking inside rooms with closed doors and knocking on three of the seven bathrooms until he saw you by the dining room speaking with your cousin Jessica and her fiancée. Peter approached you with a calmer demeanor, setting his untouched champagne on a table before he placed a gentle hand on your upper back.

“Peter.” You jumped at the motion, but he could feel your muscles relax under his touch. “I was just gonna go find you.”

“Sorry, I got antsy.” Peter’s hand dipped a little lower while he whispered, “Forgive me for what I’m about to do.”

The declaration confused you. Your cousin cleared her throat, and the two of you had snapped your heads in the direction of the noise.

“Yes, sorry. Peter, this is Jessica.” He nodded his head, sending a brief smile. “And her fiancée, Issac.” The men shook hands. “Guys, this is Peter. He’s my—“

“I’m Y/N’s boyfriend.”

“Exactly, you’re… huh?”

What?

You glanced at his hand on your waist, just barely touching you. Confused, you looked at him and met his stare. He was up to something and you could see it.

Oh, not this. Absolutely not.

Jessica nudged your arm. “Y/N, you never told us you had a boyfriend!”

I didn’t know either, you thought to yourself. You chuckled weakly, eyeing Peter as you went along with his little act. You pressed yourself further into his side, allowing Peter to tighten his grip on your waist.

“Well, Y/N likes to keep things private.” Peter took the lead, softly digging his nails into your dress so that you’d remember to smile. “Never knew she was so shy about us.”

You spoke with an awkward voice. “Ha, yes! Yes, I do. I definitely do. But, um, he’s here. Peter — my boyfriend. Figured I’d introduce him to some family.” You patted his chest, scrunching your nose up in an effort to appear as convincing as possible. “Just a sweetheart.”

“Well, I’m happy that you’re dating again! Peter, please join us for the rest of the night, we’ll be having dinner soon.” Jessica nodded at both of you, before Issac and her excused themselves to go welcome other guests.

Neither of you spoke, standing there like statues. Peter’s hand rested on your waist, while yours still remained loosely on his chest.

“I’m sorry I did that.” He blubbered profusely, looking down at you apologetically.

“What. The. Fuck.” You turned to him, lowering your tone. You didn’t seem angry, rather just extremely confused. “What was the reason?”

“Everyone in this house is shit-talking you.” He explained with exasperation. “I can’t stand the way they talk about you and — and look at you like you’re some withering plant. I understand if this was an overstep, it’s fine, we can give it up but I figured…” He paused, biting his tongue. “I figured that if we were gonna pretend to like these people then maybe a little more pretending wouldn’t hurt.”

He was right.

“I assume you being my boyfriend is supposed to save me from being an embarrassment.”

He chuckled. “If anything, you’ll probably come out even more as an embarrassment since I’m the boyfriend.”

His hand felt so nice on your body. You smiled at him.

“Come on then, darling, let’s go sit down.”

Peter’s stomach danced at the term. You sighed at him, forcing yourself to leave his grasp. You hated that you had a growing crush on him and it was blooming with every second you spent together. And now, sitting beside him at dinner before tomorrow’s wedding, you were sure nothing could prevent you from falling, especially when he was such a great actor — like playing the role of your boyfriend was meant for him. As if he’d rehearsed this before.

The dinner table was long, decorated with poinsettias in Italian vases and wax candles atop of the embellished runner. He’d been asked questions about your relationship, effortlessly lying about how you’d met and how long you’d been dating. According to him, he worked at a coffee shop by your workplace and you were a regular that came by often. And according to you, you’d been dating for a year.

You hadn’t even known Peter for more than a month and a half.

It had already been the second course, and for some reason, Peter couldn’t stop staring at the empty seat at the head of the table.

He could hear heavy footsteps near the front door, slowly approaching the dining room.

The hairs on his arms stood up and his ears twitched. It was as if the whole room was shaking, and the chandelier above him wobbled.

“Aunt Kathy’s boyfriend is here.” You poked him.

Peter winced at the sudden shot of pain that travelled down his spine; he hesitantly glanced to the head of the table, eyes widening as the empty seat had suddenly been taken.

Oh, fuck.

“Hey, this is Y/N’s new man.” Jessica spoke teasingly through a mouthful of salad. “Peter?”

The boy hadn’t noticed the large hand extended towards him. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the arms of the chair, while his face twisted into a ghostly pale as he gulped audibly. His vision tunneled into blurriness until he registered your voice pulling him into reality.

“Sorry.” Peter trailed off, unable to take his eyes off the arrived guest. “I’m — I’m Peter.” The boy had felt bile building up in his throat. “And you are…?”

He had no means to ask. He knew who this man was.

His hand felt crushed in the suffocating grip.

The guest smiled widely.

“Wilson Fisk. A pleasure to meet you, Peter.”

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