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joontopia · 4 years ago

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Forget Me Not | KNJ Oneshot

pairing: kim namjoon x female reader

genre: smut, slight angst, dashes of fluff, basically porn with a dollop of plot

au: exes to lovers, valentine’s day

rating: explicit, nsfw, 18+

word count: 20.3K

warnings: slight angst, assumed cheating, cursing, alcohol consumption, dry humping, some heavy petting, heated make out sessions, daddy kink, slightly bratty reader, dom namjoon, pet names, dirty name calling, slight degradation, cocksleeve kink, use of sex toys (vibrator), unprotected sex, condom got lost in the mail, cumshot, creampie, oral sex (m & f), blowjob, throat fucking, fingering, squirting, pussy slapping, clit slapping, spit play, namjoon got a big ol’ cock, nipple biting, marking, biting, overstimulation, orgasm denial, orgasm control, multiple orgasms, wall sex, some gentle choking

banner made by: @kimtaehyunq

a/n: My day for posting has finally come! This fic is twice as long as I thought it was going to be. Big, big hugs and smooches to Maggie and Tina for beta and editing this beast at the last minute for me. You two are a lifesaver and I love yall so much. And thank you again, Maggie, for recruiting me to be a part of this valentine’s day collab! I had such a great time!

Beta readers: @kimtaehyunq @escapingreality4now

This is a part of the Be My Bangtanvine Collab - go check out the other fantastic writers and their stories!

“So what’s your name, anyway?” The once cute, bleach blonde male asks you as he leans in closer, his breath reeking of the IPA he is nursing. You lean away from him in your seat at the bar, rolling your eyes as you grab your drink. “What does it matter?” you say taking a big sip. “You’re not going to remember it anyways.”

“What makes you say that?” He slurs, leaning even closer to you. His eyes half closed from drunkenness and a lazy smile on his face. You push him away from you gently, a soft huff coming from his mouth as his back hits the bar.

“Because I’ve told it to you four times already?” Your tone doesn’t match the smile you give him as he lets out a laugh. You take another sip from your drink, your eyes roaming around the bar again looking for your best friend, Tina. She invited you out tonight, with the promise of some much needed girl time. Guilt tripped you with the fact that she hasn’t spent much time with you outside of work or your apartment after your breakup six months ago. You were four episodes deep into a new TV show when she came barreling through your door, taking full advantage of the spare key you had given her weeks earlier for ‘emergencies only.’ She dragged you off the couch, going on and on about how “Enough is enough. You need to get out and be around people. Not sitting here moping over some stupid guy.”

Hauling you into your bedroom, she dolls you up in the black, sparkly bodycon dress you bought for your anniversary dinner with your ex but never got to wear. Promised that tonight was just going to be you two girls. No boys allowed. No worries of running into a certain someone because “it’s not like he ever had the time for things like this anyways.” It didn’t take long until she was whisked off to the dance floor by some silver-haired beautiful man with the plushest lips you have ever seen. You willingly let him sweep her away. You didn’t have the heart to say no, not with the absolute lovestruck look in Tina’s eyes.

Unfortunately, it left you alone at a crowded bar top, susceptible to being bothered by drunken bar patrons looking for an easy score. You first didn’t mind when this one came up to you. He seemed charming, up until the point he was asking for your name thrice in five minutes. Your nose crinkles as he leans back in again, placing a hand on your shoulder to balance himself as he almost stumbles forward on to you. “Come on, tell me your name. I promise I’ll remember it this time.”

Rolling your eyes, you finish your drink, readying yourself for the long back and forth once you tell him you’re not interested. You place your empty glass on the bar top and brush his hand off your shoulder. Your eyes widen as you see your drunk intruder start falling forward from his loss of balance, only then realizing you should’ve made sure you had supported his hand on something else. You brace for impact, eyes closing shut while your arms are out in front of you as you wait for him to come crashing down. Hoping you’d be able to push him off of you in time before he takes you crashing to the floor with him. But the body weight never comes, only replaced with a deep, honey rich voice that you haven’t heard in months causing your eyes to snap open. There the owner of the voice stood, his arm out in between you and your drunken company, pushing the latter back towards the bar top and away from you. “N-Namjoon?” you sputter, completely caught off guard to see your ex-boyfriend standing beside you.

“Excuse me, but I think it’s about time you left her alone,” Namjoon says, his eyes narrowing at the drunken gentleman as the sides of his mouth turn up into a tight, polite smile. He feels taller than what you remember, towering over the other bar patron by almost half a foot.

The drunken man looks between you and Namjoon, puffing his chest as he crosses his arm, trying to make himself seem taller than he really is. “Chill, dude. We’re just talking, having a good time. What are you? Her boyfriend or something?”

You shift in your seat just slightly, Namjoon noticing out of the corner of his eye as he clears his throat, moving to place his hand on the back of your chair. “Or something…” he says, his cheeks rosy-ing just a bit as he side-eyes you again, waiting to see if you were going to interject. You stay quiet, looking at him with wide eyes as you’re still trying to process the fact that he’s here in this bar with you. What is he doing here?

He takes your silence as permission to continue, turning his full attention back to the other man. “Thank you for keeping my friend company while I was away. Now if you excuse us, we’re going to try and enjoy the rest of our night.”

The drunken man hardens his gaze at Namjoon for a moment, slightly swaying back and forth and you wonder if he’s about to lose his balance again. He breathes out, rolling his eyes as he scoffs at Namjoon, turning to walk away from the bar. “Whatever man,” he mutters, walking away and disappearing into the crowd.

“Everything okay, Joon?” The bartender asks, having walked up shortly after the drunken man took his leave.

“Yeah, man. All cool. Can you get us another round?” The Bartender nods, turning to start a new round of drinks for the two of you. As soon as he walks away, Namjoon turns to you, his cheeks rosy-ing once again as he lifts one of his hands, scratching the back of his head. “Uh, hey Y/N. Interesting running in to you here.”

“What are you doing, Namjoon?” You feel your face warm up with annoyance. Never once in the year that you were together did he ever come out to a bar with you. Always too busy with work to make it out with you and your friends. But now here he is, in front of you being treated as if he’s come here his whole life.

He chuckles nervously, his feet shuffling just a bit as he clears his throat. “What do you mean?” His seemingly innocent question makes your annoyance and frustration grow even more, and you try hard to hold back the bite in your tone.

“What are you doing? Here, just now. You hate bars.”

“I don’t hate bars. I just never had the time for them.” His voice trails off at the end, the ghost of arguments past flashing before his eyes.

You scoff at him, rolling your eyes as you cock your head to the side. “Oh, what? And you do now? Work finally not keeping you so busy anymore?” The resentment dripping from your tone makes Namjoon squirm just a bit in his spot. You’d feel good about it, knowing how uncomfortable he was feeling right now, if it wasn’t for the little fact that he just saved you from a potentially embarrassing incident. You briefly scold yourself, telling yourself to at least show him some level of gratitude before biting his head off again.

“Sorry, that was rude--” You’re interrupted by the return of the bartender with your drinks, placing them on the bartop as Namjoon turns to grab them. You take the brief break in his attention as a chance to calm and compose yourself. Knowing his sudden appearance didn’t allow you to react the way you wanted to after seeing him again for the first time in months. You let out a sigh, letting your shoulders deflate just slightly, taking you out of your defensive mood. You allow yourself to take a better look at Namjoon, trailing your eyes from the floor up to his face. You can’t help but notice how good he looks. He looks like he just came from a work meeting, wearing dark grey slacks and a whilte long-sleeve button up. The form fitting sleeves rolled halfway up his arms, showing off the toneness of them. “Has he been working out?” you think to yourself. You look back up at his face, his dark brown hair pushed back out of it, giving you a nice view of his jawline as he’s turning back around from grabbing your drinks.

He holds out the drink to you, your eyes now on his hand as it’s holding the glass in front of you. The way his long fingers are wrapping around the glass stirs something inside your groin. Memories from long-heated nights of the two of you together coming forth in your mind. Memories of the very same hand creeping up your body and wrapping firmly around your -- “Y/N?”

Namjoon eyes you curiously, an eyebrow quickly shooting up as he looks at you and you hope he’s not able to easily read your face to know what you’re thinking about. “Jesus, Y/N. Calm yourself,” you think to yourself as you mentally facepalm.

You clear your throat, your cheeks warming as you grab the drink from his hand and take a sip. “Thanks,” you mutter, clearing your throat again as you regain your composure. “And thank you for a minute ago. I didn’t think I was ever going to get rid of that guy.” You both chuckle. Namjoon’s dimples poking out as he smiles, nodding his head as he murmurs a “you’re welcome.” Your eyes flicker to his cheeks, a ghost of a smile on your lips as you take in the sight of his adorable features. You feel a flutter in your stomach, realizing how much you missed just being able to look at him.

“So…” you start, pushing your hair behind your ear. “What are you doing here?” you ask him curiosity sinking back in as the possible reasons start popping up in your mind. Is it work related? Did he quit? Or get fired? Does he actually have time to go out now? Oh God, is he here to meet another girl?

“Actually, I’m kinda here because of work,” he says, taking a drink of his beer.

“Of course he is,” you think, your eyes rolling involuntarily, causing Namjoon to jump quickly into further explanation.

“I’m out with a few people from work,” he spits out quickly, a nervous chuckle slipping past his lips at the end. “A couple of the guys asked if I wanted to go out with them a couple of weeks back and I thought it would be a nice change. That’s actually one of them over there, dancing with your friend.” He nods towards the dance floor and you turn just in time to see the silver haired dreamboat locking lips with your best friend. You turn back towards Namjoon as he continues, “I knew you liked going to places like this. Just wanted to see what I was missing.”

You hum in response, taking a sip from your drink as you look at him. He’s staring right at you, eyes meeting yours as they glint with a deeper meaning. Could it be that he’s been just as miserable these last few months as you? “And how has that been going?” you ask him.

“Turns out what I’ve been missing is you.” You smile wide at his words, cheeks warming up as you look away. He looks down as you both let out a little laugh.

“Well,” you say as you cross your legs in your chair, your foot now grazing the inside of his thigh. “Here I am.”

Namjoon’s eyes flicker down to your foot, his eyes trailing up your leg and growing wide as if he’s finally taking in the form fitting dress that you’re wearing. “Here you are,” he says with a smirk. “You look amazing.”

You’re not sure how it happened exactly. The events leading up to right now, how you agreed to meet Namjoon for brunch the night after seeing him again for the first time. The multiple drinks and shots you took with him more than likely the sole perpetrator.

One minute you’re still at the bar, drinking and laughing with your ex-boyfriend. Catching up on the last few months spent apart. Next thing you know, you’re thrown up against the brick wall in the back alley behind the bar. Namjoon’s one hand on your ass as the other has both your wrists secured above your head. Your own legs wrapped tightly around his waist to help keep you from falling. The rough bricks scratch at your exposed skin, but you hardly notice, your attention stolen by Namjoon’s tongue down your throat. The definite bulge in his pants grinding against your core takes any feeling of discomfort away. You don’t remember how long you two were like that when Namjoon pulls his lips away from tours, allowing the two of you to catch a much needed breath.

After the burning in your lungs starts to subside, you lean in towards him, trying to capture his lips into another kiss, only for him to pull away again. A little pout forming on your face, causing him to chuckle.

“Wait, wait,” he says, his chest still expanding rapidly from his heavy breaths.

“What’s wrong?” you ask as he lets go of your wrist, your hands dropping to his shoulders as he unwraps your legs from around him. Still holding on to you as he helps you balance yourself on the ground.

“Nothing, uhh…” he murmurs, rubbing the back of his head as he looks away. “This, um, just wasn’t exactly the way I had planned for it to go.” He lets off a nervous chuckle as he looks back at you and you smile at him. “You see, I had this whole scenario planned in my head of what I would do if I saw you again.”

“And having me pinned up against a wall dry humping me wasn’t part of it, I’m guessing?” You cock a brow at him, smiling when you notice his cheeks growing scarlet.

“No, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a nice surprise.” You both laugh as a cool breeze sweeps down the alleyway. You rub your arms, your body finally acknowledging the chilly temperature outside.

“I wanted to ask you out for coffee,” he says, his palms moving to rub your arms on instinct, trying to help keep you warm. “Wanted to get a chance to talk to you, ask for you to give me another chance.”

“Okay.”

He blinks at you, looking at you as if he was confused by your short answer before it hits him. “Okay?” he repeats, a smile growing on his face causing his dimples to reappear.

“To coffee,” you clarify. “There’s still a lot we need to talk about before I say yes to a second chance.”

And that’s how you found yourself here, walking into Namjoon’s favorite coffee place. The very one you avoided the last few months because you didn’t want to run into him. As you enter, you look around the cute little shop. Your face lights up with a smile when you see Namjoon already here, sitting in a corner booth with two cups of coffee on the table in front of him. As you approach, he looks over as if he sensed your presence, smiling as he stands up to greet you by giving you a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“I’m happy you’re here. Kinda was a little worried you’d change your mind,” he says, sitting down in the seat across from you.

“It crossed my mind.” Namjoon’s eyes grow wide and you giggle, letting him know it was just a joke. You grab the drink in front of you as Namjoon smiles shyly.

“Two scoops of sugar, a pump of caramel and toffee nut flavoring with creamer on the side, right?” He asks, the question rhetorical, as he pushes a few cups of creamer towards you.

“You remembered,” you whisper, smiling as you stirred in some creamer to your coffee. He smiles, taking a sip of his own Iced Americano. You both sit there for a few minutes, neither one of you talking. The silence being broken by the waitress coming over to take your food order. Namjoon, once again remembering your usual order and you smile wide, saying a thanks as the waitress walks away.

“I’ve missed you, Y/N. I’ve missed this,” he says suddenly, catching you slightly off guard. You knew this was why you were both here, but you didn’t expect him to start the conversation so suddenly. “I really want to get back together.”

You let you a soft sigh, pushing a fallen strand of hair behind your ear. “I don’t know, Joonie.”

“Why not?” he asks softly, eyeing you intently as he gives you his full attention.

“We broke up for a reason, Joon,” you say as you look up to meet his eye. You see the adoration and the deep determination in his gaze. His deep, chestnut eyes pull you in as you get lost in them, almost making you forget the reasons why you broke up. Almost.

You look away, the memory of your break up resurfacing. Your mind starts to wander to that early fall evening. Namjoon showing up to your apartment late from work. Too late for the dinner reservations you had made for your one year anniversary. You were already out of your dress, lying in bed in your pajamas when he came knocking on your front door. You had let him in, not wanting your neighbors to hear the argument that was sure to come. And came it did.

You had said something about being tired of coming second to everything with him. How he spent more time with work and not with you. Always going in early and staying late, never making time for you unless it was for sex. He countered with how important his work was to him, how you said you admire that about him when you first got together. How he was doing this to secure his future, a future that he saw with you. This was his passion, and he didn’t get how you couldn’t understand that. He didn’t get what the big deal was that night, simply forgetting what day it was. Told you that if it was that serious to you, if you really couldn’t put up with his shit anymore, to just break up with him.

So you did. The moment the words fell from your mouth, so did the tears. Namjoon just stood there in the middle of your living room staring at you. Tears still falling harder from your eyes as he turned, snatching his work bag from the floor and walking back out of your apartment, slamming the door behind him. No rebuttal, no attempt to fight for you back. He just left. No communication or to be seen again until last night.

“I know,” he says, his voice bringing you back to the present. ”I had a lot that I needed to work on. I neglected you, put more effort in my job than our relationship and I know it took a toll that night. I took you for granted.”

‘It wasn’t just that… That night was our --” you start softly before he interrupts you.

“Our one year anniversary, I know.” He lets out a huff and he rubs his face with his hands. You look up at him, blinking owlishly. “God, I’m such an idiot. I’m so sorry, Y/N. I realized it the moment I left and I should’ve turned back around. I should’ve fought harder to keep you.”

“You didn’t fight at all,” you state meekly, your tone just above a whisper. Namjoon looks down at the table softly nodding his head.

“I was an idiot. And too stubborn to know what I had.” You both sit there for a minute, staring at your own coffee drinks, not saying a word. You went over his words, happy to hear him admit the things he faulted in your relationship. A little flower of hope blossoming in your heart that just maybe you two could work things out.

“Why now?” you ask, breaking the silence. “What made you want to try again?”

“You remember the producer position at work that I wanted?” He looks up at you. You nod your head, remembering how he used to talk so passionately about that being his dream job. “Well, one of the producers left, allowing for a position to come available. I got it.”

A huge smile grows on your face as you reach and grab his hand, not even realizing you had done it. “Congratulations, Joonie! That’s so awesome!”

He smiles back at you, covering your hand with his other as he looks down where they are joined. “Thank you,” he says with a smile. “It was a bittersweet moment when I had gotten the news. Of course, I was happy when I got it, but I had no one to celebrate with. And the only person I wanted there was you.”

You feel your heart swell, your smile only growing bigger as you look at him. He gives your hand a squeeze, smiling back at you before continuing, “I realized that if I wanted you back, I was going to have to change. I want to be better for you.”

“It wasn’t just you who needed to change, Joonie.” You give his hands a squeeze back as he looks back up at you, his brow furrowing in confusion. “I could’ve been more understanding. Maybe we can work on it together.”

His eyes light up, growing wide for just a second as he sits up in his chair, leaning forward into the table towards you. “Yeah?” he asks, his tone dripping with hope and enthusiasm.

You giggle, smiling at his reaction. “Yeah. Let’s give it another shot.”

You spent the rest of the brunch date eating your own meals and talking. Outlining the issues you two needed to work on, setting rules and guidelines for trying again. The conversation carries over and continuing on your walk home Namjoon joins you on. Namjoon promises to make more time for you, you promise to be patient and a little more understanding. You also set the rule of no sex, at least until you both are confident that you two can make this work. The moment you state the rule, Namjoon lets out a whine, causing a giggle to escape your lips from his cute reaction.

“No sex?!” he exclaims, as you enter the door to your apartment complex causing an older couple to turn and give you two a scolding glare. “Not even fooling around?”

“No sex,” you say after shooshing him, giggling again as the older couple walk into their apartment. “Kissing is fine, but no sex. Not even fooling around.”

“But if I recall, sex was never part of our problems.” Namjoon wiggles his eyebrows at you, leaning up against the wall as you make it to your front door.

“Namjoon!” You slap his arm, playfully glaring at him and scolding him as you dig for your keys out of your purse.

“I’m just kidding! Kind off...:” he says, winking at you as you unlock your door. “Fine, no sex. I can do that. It’s worth it to prove to you that I’ve changed.” You flick on the lights to your apartment, placing your purse on the side table by the door as you turn to look back at Namjoon. He’s now standing in your doorway, leaning up on the door frame as he looks down at you, smiling. “So I guess I’ll call you later then.”

You give him a nod, once again finding yourself mesmerized by his presence and unable to speak. You never thought you’d be here with him again, having him drop you off at your doorstep after a date. He leans in towards you, his hand rising to cup your face as his lips meet yours for a soft kiss. Your body is electrified with the feel of his lips on yours and you feel yourself melt into his touch. He deepens the kiss just briefly before pulling away. You fall forward slightly, your lips still puckered as the chase after his, wanting more. Namjoon smiles, a knowing look in his eye as he walks backward away from you. “I’ll see you later, baby.” He doesn’t even wait for your response as he turns around, walking back down the hall and out into the street.

“Tease…” you mutter as you close the door behind you. Your fingers brushing your lips slightly as you smile, still feeling the softness of his lips on yours.

“You agreed to WHAT now?” Tina shouts as she follows you into the breakroom at work. Eyes wide as she watches you pour yourself a cup of coffee before the Monday morning staff meeting, having just finished going over your weekend events after she had left you alone at the bar. “Are you out of your mind? Why would you agree to a second chance with him?” she asks, her loud tone causing passing coworkers to peak into the break room as they pass by.

“Can you chill out?” You say to her, walking past her and back out to the hallway. She follows you, walking side by side as you both make your way to the conference room. “He’s changed, Tina. He’s recognized the areas that he needs to work on and has promised to do so, together. Why shouldn’t I give him another chance?”

You enter the conference room, finding two empty seats at the large oval table adjacent to each other and you both sit down. One by one, your fellow co-workers file in, filling up the table. “Fine,” Tina huffs, rolling her eyes as she leans back into her seat. “But I’m watching him. I won’t say I told you so, but I will be the first one to kick his ass if he breaks your heart again.”

You give her a smile, taking a sip of your coffee as you wait for the meeting to get started, jumping just a bit when Tina sits up quickly and grabs your arm, smiling when she turns to you. “Oh! Remind me to fill you in on my weekend with Jimin. Over lunch. My treat.”

You snicker at her, wiping the little droplets of your coffee that fell on the table. “You owe me lunch for abandoning me on our girls night anyways. But not today. Namjoon is taking me to a cute little sushi spot near his office.”

“Wow, look at Mr. Work-a-holic finally taking a break from busy, busy schedule,” she mutters under her breath, followed up by a soft “Ow” from the light kick you give her under the table.

“He’s trying, Tina,” you whisper to her as your boss walks in, seating himself at the head of the table and kicks off the meeting.

“Right, okay, sorry. I’ll give him another chance too.”

Lunch time sneaks up on you, too busy being nose deep into an article for the magazine you work for, putting in the finishing touches before sending it to your editors to get ready for the February Issue. Your phone buzzing on your desk alerts you to the time of day. You check it to find a text from Namjoon, announcing his arrival at the front of your office building. 12:30 PM on the dot. You lock your work laptop, waving bye to Tina as you place your phone into your purse and head to the elevator bay. Once down in the lobby you quickly walk outside, spotting Namjoon leaning up against a taxi waiting for you. You wrap your arms around his neck, greeting him with a kiss before he opens the car door for you, following you into the back of the cab.

The little sushi place he takes you to is delicious. Being your first time there, Namjoon orders a whole spread. Each roll consists of something you like, from tempura shrimp to avocado in the middle. Some rolls topped with eel. You eat your fill, feeling satisfyingly full once the two of you are walking out of the little restaurant.

“What time do you need to be back?” Namjoon asks you, taking your hand into his as you walk down the street.

“Maybe not for another hour? I’m already done with my article, so I’m in no rush to need to get back.” You walk alongside him with a smile on your face, the feel of his hand in yours bringing you a comfort you haven’t felt in a long time.

“Would you want to stop by the studio with me then? I got something I want to show you.” You smile at him, nodding your head as he smiles back, quickening his steps as he pulls you toward his office building.

Arriving at Namjoon’s work, you were excited to finally step into the world that had preoccupied so much of his time when you were together. You had been here multiple times in the year you were with him, coming here to drop off food for your overworking boyfriend. Never making it past the lobby desk until now. You follow him through the lobby, past the front desk and towards the elevator. You turn towards the long hallway you remember he would appear from during your prior visits when he instead guides you to the elevators, hopping on to an open cab and pressing the button for the 5th floor.

You pull your phone out of your purse, sending Tina a quick text saying that you might be late coming back to the office. After a few exchanges of where you were, she asks you to say hi to Jimin for her before you slip your phone back into your purse and turn towards Namjoon. “Since when did you move off the first floor?” You ask as the elevator continues to move upwards.

He smiles at you, a glint of excitement in his eye as the cab stops, the doors opening to the new floor. He leads you out of the elevator, his hand pushing gently on the small of your back. “That’s what I want to show you. Remember that promotion? It comes with some new perks.” He continues to lead you down the hallway and you look around, taking in the new scenery as Namjoon stops you in front of a closed door.

“Y/N!” You hear your name being called from the other end of the hall. You turn to look at the newcomer, a dark haired man jogging down the hall with his arms open towards you and Namjoon. His wide, heart shaped smile bringing an equally wide one to your face.

“Hobi!” You giggle as he wraps you in a big bear hug, picking you up off the ground and spinning you around.

“It’s good to see you again,” you say as he steadies you back on the ground.

“Likewise! It's nice to see you and Joon together again. He’s been a real stick in the mud while you guys were apart.”

You let out another giggle as Namjoon glares at his co-worker, opening the door and guiding you in. “Thank you for that, Hoseok,” he mutters, following the two of you into the room.

You take a look around the room, various recording equipment litters the room. There’s a lone couch against the wall opposite a large desk fitted with mixing equipment and a computer. You watch as Hobi plops down on it, pulling out his phone as you continue to observe the room. A guy around your age with mint colored hair sits in front of the computer and mixing equipment, headphones on as he’s bopping his head up and down to whatever is playing. You see the ‘Recording in progress’ sign lit up and realize he’s in the middle of recording someone. Namjoon closes the door behind him, walking over to pat the mint haired man on the back. The mint haired man looks up, his features growing into a gummy smile as he looks at Namjoon, taking his headphones off his head and pressing a button on the switchboard in front of him.

“Ah, Joon. Just in time. Jimin’s finishing up one of his tracks for his debut,” the mint haired man says, standing to give Namjoon a quick hug before pressing another button on the switchboard and speaking into a mic, “Jimin, come on out.”

“Jimin’s in there?” You ask without thinking. Realizing you have yet to officially meet the man that swept your best friend away on your girl’s night out. The mint haired man and Namjoon look over at you and you realize you interrupted their conversation, causing your cheeks to flush slightly.

“Yeah, he is,” the mint haired man says to you. “Big fan?”

Hobi snorts from the couch, “Watch out, Joon. Might have some competition.”

You smile while you shake your head. “No, um, he’s kind of dating my best friend.” You watch as his eyebrows shoot up, nodding his head as Namjoon places his hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“Let me not be rude,” Namjoon says as he gestures between you two. “Yoongi, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Yoongi. My coworker and fellow producer.”

Yoongi reaches out to shake your hand, giving you another gummy smile as he addresses you. “Nice to meet you, so you’re the girl Namjoon has been lovesick about. Heard all about you. Nice to finally put a face to a name.” He gives Namjoon a nudge with his shoulder, the both of you looking at each other with matching cheeks as a door on the other side of the room opens up. A familiar silver haired man walking out, his unforgettably plush lips spread wide into a smile.

“Sup guys. Ah, Y/N. Good to finally meet you,” he says, walking over to you and giving you a hug. It catches you by surprise for a minute before you return it. Jimin breaks away from you at the sound of Namjoon clearing his throat, giving you a wink as he moves to sit by Hoseok on the couch.

“Anyways,” Namjoon says as he walks over to you, throwing his arm around your shoulders. “I just wanted to introduce you guys before I showed her my office.”

“You have an office now --”

“Oh, Joojoo, I thought I heard you in here.” You were cut off by a tall, petite girl who just entered the room. The pencil skirt and blouse she was wearing a little too short and form fitting to be considered professional. You look at her, noticing how pretty she was and the way she was looking at Namjoon, all wide eyed and dreamy. You instantly become annoyed, too focused on the awful nickname she just used to notice the brief look of distaste on Namjoon’s face at the sound of it. You instinctively lean more into Namjoon, crossing your arms as the new girl continues to talk, barely aware of your presence. “Joojoo, I need help getting something down from the supply closet. Can you help me?” She coos while batting her eyelashes. Her eyes move from his face to the arm around your shoulder, clicking her tongue against her teeth as she looks you up and down. “Whose this?”

“Oh, Areum. This is Joon’s girl, Y/N. Y/N, this is our floor assistant, Areum,” Hobi jumps in, quick to the introductions with a mischievous smirk on his lips.

Areum looks at you, eyebrow raised in confusion. “Y/N. Like, your ex-girlfriend, Y/N?”

“We’re working things out,” you snap, wrapping one of your arms around Namjoon’s waist as he looks down at you, raising an eyebrow of his own. A ghost of a smirk hiding in the corner of his lips.

“Whatever,” the girl mutters before turning to Namjoon again, an annoyingly bright smile adorning her face. “Joojoo, could you help me?”

“I got it!” Yoongi shouts, already moving past the group of you and out the door. Areum lets out a soft “Oh” as she turns to follow, briefly looking back at you and Namjoon before exiting the room.

Your lips twitch up in a smirk as you turn to look up at Namjoon. “So, what’s this office you were talking about?”

“Yeah, Joon. Why don’t you show Y/N your office,” Hobi teases as he gets up from the couch, following after Yoongi and the office assistant. Namjoon sputters and you let out a giggle, grabbing his hand and walking out of the recording room.

Namjoon regains his composure, leading you back down the hallway, Jimin following closely behind, taking the chance to strike up conversation. “So what do you guys say to a double date this weekend? Give us a chance to get to know each other and have some fun. Tina talks very highly about you, Y/N.”

“That sounds great. What do you think, Joonie?” You ask just as Namjoon stops in front of another door, digging a set of keys out of his pocket and unlocking it.

“Yeah, that sounds great,” he says, flicking on the lights to his office. The three of you barely enter into the little space when Hoseok shows up at the door, looking straight at Namjoon.

“Hey Joon, looks like we need your help after all. Yoongi severely underestimated how high up this box was.” Hobi lets out a laugh as he walks back down the hallway. Namjoon turns to you, giving you a quick kiss on the forehead as he tells you he’ll be right back before slipping out the door way.

You let out a little huff as soon as he’s out of sight. “Has she ever heard of a step ladder,” you mutter under your breath as you take a look around Namjoons office, his ever growing Kaws figurine collection decorating the shelves on his walls.

You hear Jimin snicker and you jump just a bit as you had forgotten he was there. “We have a step ladder, actually. Areum, tends to misplace it a lot,” he says, air quoting around the words misplace it as he rolls his eyes. “She has the biggest crush on Namjoon. Tends to always need something from the top shelves just to have an excuse to talk to him.”

Your face contorts into a scowl, causing Jimin to laugh and throw his hands up in defense. “Don’t worry. Namjoon barely even notices. He’s always been wrapped up in his work. Or talking about you. Yoongi, however… Well, he has it bad.”

You nod a little, taking comfort in Jimin’s reassurance. He gives you a small wave bye as he leaves you alone in Namjoon’s office. You sit down in the empty desk chair, noticing a picture frame by his laptop. You pick it up, recognizing the picture to be one of your favorites of you and Namjoon. A cute selfie you took in the comfort of his apartment a few months into you two dating. You place it back on the desk, humming gently in content as you push the brief incident with the office assistant to the back of your mind. Reminding yourself that you promised to be understanding and you try not to dwell on if there was anything there that you would need to worry about.

Your first week back with Namjoon was nothing short of amazing. You were amazed and surprised by how attentive he is to you, fully prepared to expect him to still be busy with work, especially with a recent promotion. But, alas, he is keeping true to his promise so far. The two of you spent more time together in the past week than you did in the last few months you were together. The both of you have been making great progress with the things you both promised to work on. Holding true to the rules and guidelines, you had set out, the no sex rule included.

You’d be lying if you said it hasn’t been hard to not break that rule. Namjoon being right when he said that sex was never a problem between the two of you. It didn’t help that the both of you gained pure enjoyment out of teasing the hell out of each other. Between the gentle brushes of his hand across your ass or the strategic placement of your hand on his thigh when you’re sitting next to him, it is easy to get one another flustered. It is equally just as hard to keep each other’s hormones at bay.

No other time have you two come close to breaking that rule than you have tonight. Laid out on your back on your living room couch, Namjoon on top of you. The both of you in the middle of a heated makeout session. His hand up your shirt while yours is on his ass, pushing him closer into you as he grinds his clothed bulge into your core. You know you should stop. No fooling around being part of the rules you both had set, but it all just feels too damn good to stop. Your living room is filled with the soft sounds of your shared moans, the movie Namjoon brought over for your night in playing softly but forgotten in the background. You both had opted for a night in instead of going out to dinner. Your planned double date on Saturday and the fact that you had to work late helping your fellow writers finish their articles playing a big part in the decision making. Namjoon had picked up takeout and a movie for the two of you, waiting at your apartment for you to get home to spend as much time as possible with you tonight before he would have to leave to go to sleep.

What started out as an innocent foot rub after your dinner has speedily turned into a tickle fight. That very tickle fight quickly escalated to the situation you find yourself in now; Namjoon’s tongue wrestling with yours as he cups your breast with his hand, finding your nipple hidden by your bra and giving it a quick pinch. You let out a muffled moan, one he quickly swallows with his lips still on yours. You slide your other hand down, reaching in between you two to grab a hold of the button on his jeans. You almost have it undone when Namjoon suddenly pulls away from you, grabbing your wrist as he breathlessly asks you to hold on. He pulls his hand from out under your shirt and lets go of your wrist as he sits back on the couch, running his hand through his disheveled hair to try and put some of it back in place.

“We should probably chill out a bit. Don’t want to get too ahead of ourselves,” he says, scooting just a bit away from you to give you room to sit up on your side of the couch. You stay as you are, looking at him with a pout on your lips as he chuckles at you. “Besides, I probably should head out soon. Need to run into the office tomorrow before our date.”

He stands from the couch, holding his hand out to help you up and you take it, wrapping your arms around his neck as you stand up in front of him. “Why don’t you just spend the night? Leave for work from here in the morning?” you ask in between kisses. He chuckles at you again, grabbing your hands from around his neck and walking you to the door.

“And break the rules you clearly set out for us? I would never,” he teases you, laughing at you as you let out a whine. “I’ll see you tomorrow baby. I’ll let you know when I get home,” he reassures you as he slips his shoes on and opens your front door. He turns back to you, slinking an arm around your waist to catch your lips in a deep kiss as he pulls you towards him. He releases your lips, leaving you breathless once again as he rubs the tip of his nose against yours. “And we’ll continue this later.” He smiles at you, giving you a wink and another quick kiss before releasing you completely and closing the door behind him.

You let out a little huff. “Tease…” you mutter as you smile, shaking your head as you lock up the door before turning back towards your living room, getting ready to clean up and go to bed.

The double date with Jimin and Tina went better than you expected. The whole mini argument you had with Tina in her apartment as the two of you got ready proving to be inane. Her plans of giving Namjoon the third degree to check to see if he’s really changed never came to fruition, much to your relief. The moment the two boys arrived at her doorstep to pick the both of you up, all thoughts of interrogation were forgotten, her attention solely on Jimin and Jimin alone.

The steakhouse you attend for dinner is delicious. The drinks you all share help keep the conversation light and entertaining. You are happy with the way work has stayed away as a topic for the evening. The only exception was the mention of Hoseok’s mixtape release party that is taking place the following Wednesday. When leaving the restaurant, talks about needing to do this again came up. You mention a new Italian restaurant that just opened up down the street that you all should try next, if you guys were ever lucky enough to get a hard to book reservation.

Namjoon holds your hand the entire cab ride back to your apartment. Not much conversation taking place due to the numerous glasses of wine at dinner making you feel warm and sleepy while leaning up against him. You nearly doze off before you make it to your apartment, Namjoon nudging your shoulder slightly to let you know of your arrival. He’s still holding your hand as he walks you to your door, making sure you were safely inside before letting go. He stands in your doorway, smiling at you as you brace yourself against the wall to balance as you take off your heels.

“What are you smiling about?” You tease him, crossing your arms as you walk back towards him after removing your footwear.

“I’m just happy to be doing this with you again. Walking you home, making sure you get here safe.” You can’t help the smile that graces your face from his confession, leaning up on to your tiptoes to place a quick kiss on his lips.

“So,” he starts, still smiling at you as he hovers over you in your door frame. “Hobi’s release party is this Wednesday.”

“So I heard,” you cooed, your heart warming at the flash of his dimples from his smiling growing wider from your teasing.

“I was wondering if you wanted to go with me,” he asks you, pausing momentarily before continuing, “As my date.”

You smile wider, leaning up to give him another kiss. “I thought you’d never ask.”

The next few days flew by in a breeze. You weren’t able to see much of Namjoon other than lunch breaks or a quick dinner date as he was helping Hobi and the company prepare for the release party. You and Tina spent your free evenings shopping for the perfect dresses. Finding two cute matching bodycons with keyhole cut outs and heels to match. Wednesday evening comes before you know it. Namjoon had ordered a car to pick you and Tina up, him needing to be at the venue early to help get everything set up. Not wanting you to feel rushed, he arranges for your transportation to drop you off right at the venue doors, allowing you and Tina to enjoy a full red carpet experience for the release party.

The party venue is located at one of the nicest hotels in town, taking place in one of the ballrooms fitted with a DJ booth, a mini dance floor, and a well stocked open bar. Namjoon is there to greet you at the door, catching the eye of every woman (and man) walking by him with the way he’s fitted in his well-tailored suit. His hair is pushed back, styled out of his face. You can’t help the smile that grows on your face as you look him up and down, walking towards him. Knowing that this beautiful man is all yours. The moment he notices you walking towards the ballroom, his smile matches yours, if not, brighter. His mindset also matches yours as he shamelessly looks you up and down as you grow closer.

“Hey Handsome,” you say to him, throwing your arm around his neck as you give him a kiss.

“Good evening, baby. You’re looking exceptionally beautiful tonight.” He kisses you back, slipping his hand around your waist.

“How nice of you to say, Joonie. I didn’t think you noticed,” Tina teases from beside you. Namjoon rolls his eyes, giving you another kiss before taking your hand in his.

“You look exceptionally beautiful as well, Tina,” he says, gesturing his hand towards the inside of the ballroom. Tina gives him a thank you before winking at you and walking forwards into the ballroom, now on a mission to find Jimin. You giggle, following behind her and Namjoon as he leads you toward the bar.

After grabbing a round of drinks, Namjoon walks you and Tina over to your reserved table for the evening. Jimin is already sitting down, snacking on a small plate full of the various finger foods being served around the event. You barely sit down yourself when the petite office assistant, Areum, pops up out of nowhere, instantly clinging herself onto Namjoon’s arm. The dress she’s wearing contains too many cut outs and too much sheer covering to your liking, the lack of actual fabric barely classifying it as a dress instead of lingerie. Her heels, too tall to be considered comfortable to walk in, let alone stand in, you know we’re chosen to accentuate her barely covered (and annoyingly perky) ass. She doesn’t pay you or anyone other table occupant any mind, her focus only on Namjoon, much to your annoyance. Batting her eyelashes, she addresses Namjoon, her tone too high pitched to be tolerable, making the use of her god awful nickname for Namjoon sound even worse. “Joojoo, the DJ is having issues with connecting his equipment. Can you help us?”

He sighs, giving her a polite smile as he responds, “Sure.” She let’s go of his arm and you swear she gives you a smirk before turning and running off. You glare at her retreating backside. An involuntary scoff escaping past your lips. Namjoon hears it, turning to you with a questioning brow raised in your direction. A smirk, once again, dancing on the corner of his lips.

“You okay, baby?” He asks, trying to hide the smile threatening to break out on his face, always finding it cute when you show little signs of jealousy.

“Nothing, she’s just very… touchy.” You take a sip of your champagne, trying to wash away the bitterness in your mouth. Namjoon chuckles at you as he leans down to hover over you, one hand braced on the table and the other on the back of your chair to steady himself.

“She’s just friendly, baby,” he says, leaning in closer to rub his nose on the tip of yours.

“Yeah, to you,” you mumble, Namjoon’s shit-eating grin finally breaking loose on his face as he laughs.

“You’re cute,” he says, placing a kiss on your forehead. “You got nothing to worry about, baby. I only have eyes for you.” He gives you a long, soft kiss on your lips before standing back up. Telling you he’ll be right back, he disappears into the growing crowd toward what you assume is the direction of the DJ booth.

Feeling eyes on you, you look to your left to see Tina observing you, a mischievous smirk on her lips as she meets your gaze. You let out a sigh, jumping to a defensive tone as you try and predict what she’s thinking. “It’s a work party, Tina. It’s expected that he’s going to have to do some work.”

She shakes her head slowly at you as she leans forward, placing her elbow on the table and propping her hand under her chin. “Oh no, I’m wondering when you’re going to put that in its place.” Her reference is vague, but you know exactly what, or rather who, she’s talking about.

“I’m not. I don’t need to. Joonie says there’s nothing to worry about so there’s nothing to worry about,” you state matter-of-factly. Hoping your tone sounds convincing enough to end her “hoe-be-gone” plotting before it starts. You just don’t know who you were trying to convince more: Tina or You.

“If you say so,” Tina sing-songs, leaning back into her seat and into Jimin. Jimin gives her a quick peck on her temple and smiles at her.

“You little instigator,” you hear Jimin whisper to her before catching her lips in a real kiss. You roll your eyes slightly, smiling softly as you scan the now crowded ballroom, trying to spot Namjoon amongst the sea of people.

You contemplate for a minute on whether you should actually say something to Areum. You know you’ll be able to control yourself and your tone. Know you’ll be able to conduct yourself as polite, but firm. She just seems like the type to you that would cause a scene when she doesn’t get her way and you don’t want to be involved in anything that might ruin Hobi’s special night. Besides, you promised to be more understanding and trusting Namjoon on this falls under that umbrella. So you take another sip of your drink, swallowing down the sweet tasting liquid, hoping the bitter taste of your growing anxiety goes down with it.

The rest of the night followed the common theme of Namjoon being swept away by various staff members seeking his help. It never failed that once he found his way back to you, someone else was there a few minutes later to take him again. He apologizes to you every time, his kisses growing harder and deeper with each departure. You reassure him each time that it is fine, and really it is. You are enjoying yourself, spending the majority of the night with Jimin, Tina, and various alcoholic drinks. Near the end of the night, Namjoon was finally able to spend a little more time with you. Grabbing you from your reserved table and walking you over to meet his boss and to say bye to Hoseok before you leave.

As you approach the two gentlemen, Hobi’s eyes light up the moment he sees you.

The second you reach him, he’s wrapping his arms around you in a big hug, placing a quick peck on your cheek. His heart shaped smile on full display as he addresses you, the scent of alcohol heavy on his breath as he talks. “Y/N! Thank you for coming tonight. What would I do without my favorite fan?” he slurs, his rosy cheeks pushing into his eyes as he continues to smile at you.

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, Hobi,” you coo, giggling as you back out of his hug. As you stand back in your place next to Namjoon, you turn to the other man, Hobi and Namjoon’s boss, and introduce yourself.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Y/N,” he says. “Sorry, I’ve been pulling your boyfriend away from you most of the night.”

“He’s no--” you start before quickly redirecting your response. You feel Namjoon’s shoulders deflate just slightly beside you and you feel a twinge of guilt. He isn’t your boyfriend. Not yet, at least. But isn’t that exactly what you two are working back towards? “It’s okay,” you start again. “He’s been a hot commodity tonight and a hard worker. I wouldn’t want him any other way.”

Namjoon looks at you, a quick ‘blink-and-you'll-miss-it’ flash of surprise colors his features before the corners of his lips turn upwards into a smile.

“A hard worker he most certainly is. I’m going to have to also apologize in advance for the next week. We’re in the finishing stages of our next trainee’s debut and going to need all hands on deck for it.” The boss gives you a big smile, probably thinking it would lessen the blow of his news.

“Yeah, Jimin’s debut is next!” Hobi chimes in, his voice carrying a little too loud due to his intoxicated state.

“That’s right,” their boss confirms. “I promise to try and have him free by Valentine’s day.” The boss lets out a hearty laugh, slapping Namjoon on the shoulder before walking away. Excusing himself to thank the other guest for coming to the event.

“Valentine’s day…” you hear Namjoon mutter softly. You turn to look up at him, noticing his wide-eyed look as he stares into space. You grab his arm, looping your hand around it and lightly squeezing, bringing him back out of his head. His eyes focusing on you.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’ve been busy and I forgot it was coming up, too. We got a week, we’ll figure something out,” you try to reassure him, forming a soft smile on his face to try and show that it was really okay.

“Yeah,” Namjoon responds, his tone apprehensive as he rubs the back of his neck. Taking in his demeanor, the little seed of worry from earlier starts to blossom slowly in your mind. You open your mouth to say something, ask him if he’s okay when the call of your name breaks interrupts you. Looking behind you, you see Tina approaching you and Namjoon.

“Hey, you ready to go? Jimin had our car pulled around up front for us,” she asks, stifling a yawn behind her hand.

“Yeah, sure,” you say slowly, turning your head to look back at Namjoon. The unspoken question on whether you guys need to talk lingering between you. It goes unanswered and any signs of apprehension or anxiety are gone from his face. His prize-winning, charming smile is the only thing you see.

“Go ahead. I have to stay and help clean up anyways. I’ll call you later, yeah?” He gives you a quick kiss, waving bye to Tina as he walks away, disappearing into the thinning crowd.

His departure doesn’t sit right with you. Something about his behavior seems off and it only adds to your growing anxiety, much to your annoyance. You try to shake it off, following Tina out of the ballroom and into the lobby. Stopping abruptly, you realize you’ve forgotten something, calling out to Tina as you turn back towards the ballroom. “Hey, I forgot my phone and purse on the table. I’ll meet you in the car.”

Running back in to grab your purse, you notice Namjoon standing over by the bar talking to an older gentleman. You take a step towards him, planning to ask him if everything was okay before heading back to the car, only to stop once the older man steps to the side out of the way of a server. Revealing the annoying little office assistant clinging to Namjoon’s arm. You freeze, watching as Namjoon shakes the older gentleman’s hand before the same man places a kiss on top of the little leech’s head and takes his departure from the group. Namjoon, smiles down at Areum, his dimples adorning his cheeks and you immediately feel sick. You turn around, walking swiftly out of the hotel before they’re able to see you, reaching the car and hopping quickly into the seat next to Tina. She glances over at you curiously before looking back at her phone. “Everything okay?” she asks you as she begins typing away, probably sending a text to Jimin.

“Yeah,” you reply. “Just… I thought it was about to rain.” You give her a forced chuckle, hoping she doesn’t sense the lie in your tone. She hums in response. The car starts to pull off into traffic. You turn, looking back at the hotel as it fades into the distance. Hoping fiercely that what you think you saw and what was actually going on is just a big misunderstanding.

You barely hear from Namjoon the rest of the week. The weekend being no different. The “all hands on deck” call to finish up Jimin’s mixtape for his debut is the only explanation you receive from Namjoon to excuse his absence. Majority of your communication is exchanged over text messages, but even those were slowly growing few and far in between. Your daily lunch dates are replaced with specially picked Uber eats orders sent to your office. The sentiment is there but you couldn’t help but feel like he is avoiding you. The scene of Areum clinging to Namjoon’s arm replaying over and over in your mind. “Who was that man?” and “Why was Namjoon smiling at her after meeting him?” were the main questions plaguing your mind. The constant thought of maybe you DO have something to worry about causes a big negative shift in your mood that you’re unable to hide the longer you go without talking to Namjoon.

Tina notices the change in your attitude at work on Monday. Not-so subtly mentioning how your negative energy was killing her vibe. You grumble an apology and she spends most of the day trying to help bring you out of your sour mood.

“Maybe he really has been busy. His boss did say he was going to be taking up a lot of his time this week.” You let out a huff, knowing what she was saying was more than likely true, but it still didn’t make you feel any better. Noticing no change in your mood, she continues. “If it helps to know, I haven’t been able to see or talk to Jimin much, either. We can only hope that they’re making good progress and they’ll be done soon. That way we can get our men back,” she chirps, her voice going up at the end to try and drive the point of positivity with her words.

You feel bad, but the news of her not hearing from Jimin just as much does make you feel better. At least you knew you weren’t the only one and made the idea that they’re both just really, really busy easier to accept as the truth. You look over at her and give her a small smile, “Thank you. For trying to help me feel better. It’s just… I can’t help but feel like this is all too familiar territory.” Among other things. You follow up in your head, not wanting to voice it out loud and carry on that conversation here at work.

“I thought you said you were going to try and be more understanding,” Tina states, her comment catching you by surprise.

“Wait, what?” you stammer, blinking owlishly at her as she rolls her eyes at you. She sits up straighter in her seat as if she was preparing to give you a presentation.

“You were right, Y/N. Namjoon’s changed. He’s trying. Even I’ve been able to see that,” she says to you, her voice taking on a reassuring tone. “You promised that you would be more patient and understanding. Now’s the time to show that you’re trying too.”

You let out a sigh. You knew she was right and didn’t really want to admit it. You did promise to be more understanding and you definitely weren’t doing that right now. That realization does nothing to fix your mood. Only changing the reason why it was still so sour.

Tina notices the change, knowing you swapped to beating yourself up. A smile breaks out on her face as an idea blooms in her mind, reaching over and grabbing your hand in excitement as she details it to you.

“Let’s have a Galentine’s Day this weekend. The boys will probably still be busy, and if they finish up early and are able to spend time with us again, we can cancel it. Easy peasy.” She looks at you, her eyes begging you to say yes as her excitement courses through her. As if her hold on your hand was a conduit, you feel her excitement transfer to you. The infectious happiness in her smile breaking through your negative demeanor and causing a smile to form on your face. You couldn’t find it in you to turn down her offer. Her squeal of excitement rings throughout the office the moment you tell her yes.

The thought of not having to spend Valentine’s Day alone does perk you up a little. The background chatter of Tina planning out your Galentine’s day helping you get through the rest of the work day. Come clock out time, you head out of the office and make your way towards the train for home. You feel your phone buzz, alerting you of a new text message. Checking your notifications, you see that it’s from Namjoon. His name and the context of the tweet bring a smile to your face. His short text of “Miss you” with the kissy face emoji gives you a small burst of motivation to keep the promise that you had made a few weeks earlier. “Patience and understanding. You got nothing to worry about,” you tell yourself, sending back a matching message to Namjoon before slipping your phone back into your pocket.

The rest of the week drags. The still brief only-over-text conversations with Namjoon and Tina’s absence from the office due to a sinus infection being two things that have contributed to the week feeling like it’s taking forever and a day to move along.

Friday morning comes and you already feel an instant boost of happiness when you see Tina at her desk as you walk into the office. You skip to your desk, placing your computer bag down and taking out your laptop as you strike up a conversation with your best friend.

“Good morning! And welcome back! So I was thinking… There’s this cute little candy shop over on Cherry Lane that we should order some sweets from for our Galentine’s day.” After not hearing a response, you look up from your desk. Tina’s brow furrowing in confusion as she looks at you. “What’s wrong?”

“Didn’t Namjoon tell you?” she asks, her question making the anxiety you’ve been pushing down all week start to instantly crawl back up your throat.

“Tell me what?” you respond slowly, pulling your phone out to see if you might have missed any phone calls or text messages from Namjoon. Nothing.

“Jimin said they finished everything up on Wednesday. The mixtape is done.” You feel the color drain from your face. Tina’s eyes grow wide as she notices and quickly adds on to her news. “But maybe he meant HE was finished with everything. Joon and Yoongi probably still have things to finish up on the production end.”

You nod your head meekly. Forcing yourself to breathe in and out as you try not to jump to conclusions and hope that her assumption is right. “Yeah, maybe.” Your voice comes out squeakier than you like. A brief flash of pity shows in Tina’s eyes as she gives you a soft smile. Clearing your throat, you straighten up in your chair, plastering a fake smile on your face as you start on your work. “No, you’re right. He’s probably just finishing up the rest of his part. I’ll probably hear from him later today.”

Tina nods her head slowly, turning back to her computer as she gets back to work. You struggle to maintain your smile throughout the rest of the day, doing your best to not to show a break in your mask every time Tina snuck a quick glance your way.

The end of the workday finally arrives and still no word from Namjoon. You skip out of the office the first chance you get, waiting for Tina to have walked away from her desk so you could sneak out without her noticing. You knew she would ask about Namjoon and it wasn’t a conversation you were really wanting to have right now. Walking towards the subway, you decide to stop at the Chinese restaurant along the way to pick up some takeout, not really in the mood to try and fix something at home. After placing your to-go order, you take a seat in the lobby, scrolling through your phone when you hear someone call your name. Looking up from your phone, you’re surprised to see Yoongi standing in front of you, having just exited the bathroom on the other side of the lobby. “I thought that was you. Picking up some food for you and Joon?”

“Ah, no. Just me.” You smile back. “Are you heading back to the office? This was a long way for a dinner break. This mixtape must be working you two into the ground.”

Yoongi shakes his head, the slightest hint of confusion painting his features. “Actually, I live around here. Just grabbing a bite to eat with some friends. We actually finished up on Wednesday. Didn’t Namjoon tell you?”

Your eyes go wide for a second as you feel your heart drop straight to your stomach. You force a closed lip smile on your face, trying to fight back the anger and frustration rising in you. “Yeah, right. Sorry, must have slipped my mind.”

Yoongi goes to say something else, only to be cut off by the restaurant host calling out your name, announcing that your to-go order was ready. You jump up from your seat quickly, grabbing your food from the host and turn to rush out the door. “It was good to see you, Yoongi. Have a great night!” You run out the door before he can respond. Once again trying to avoid an uncomfortable conversation revolving around Namjoon.

The moment you make it around the block, you stop right above the subway entrance. Grabbing your phone out of your purse, you quickly dial Namjoon’s number, taking deep breaths in and out of your noise to try and calm the boiling anger inside of you. The phone rings twice before the call is picked up. You’re ready to start your onslaught of the many questions that you have the moment he speaks, but the voice you hear at the other end knocks the breath straight out of your lungs. The perky, high pitched voice unmistakably belonging to the one person you would have never thought to be answering Namjoon’s phone. Areum. “Hello, Joojoo’s phone.” Her sickening sweet tone makes your stomach churn and you take in another deep breath to keep yourself from vomiting.

“Where’s Namjoon?” You applaud yourself for how level you keep your tone, not wanting to let her know that the very fact that she answered his phone bothers you.

“He’s busy. Can I take a message?” God, you really don’t like her.

“Just let him know that his girlfriend called,” you say, emphasizing around the word girlfriend.

“Ex-girlfriend. But I’ll let him know. Bye bye now.” She hangs up before you could say anything else. The abrupt ending and her emphasis on the word Ex not helping your growing irritation. You toss your phone back into your bag and continue on your way home.

You don’t look at your phone the whole subway ride home. Not daring to take it out of your bag until after you make it home and finish eating your Chinese. Pouring yourself a glass of wine, you finally retrieve your phone from your bag, noticing the one missed call and the three text messages from Namjoon.

Namjoon: Hey, Areum said you called. Everything okay? Namjoon: Y/N? Baby, you okay? *Missed call from Namjoon* Namjoon: Call me back when you get a chance.

You take a deep breath before typing out your response, repeating “patience and understanding” like a mantra in your head. You tell yourself to give him the benefit of the doubt. Give him a chance to explain. He hasn’t given you any reason to doubt him. At least not until now.

You: Hey, sorry. Was eating dinner. Namjoon: Hey, it’s cool. Everything okay? You: Yeah, I didn’t mean to worry you. Just hadn’t talked to you today. I miss you. Namjoon: I miss you too baby.

You pause for a moment. Contemplating how you want to continue the conversation. You wanted to call, not leave the interpretation of your tone through your text message to be misconstrued. But you feel like he wouldn’t give you a full explanation if he had anyone around him.

You: Why did Areum answer your phone? Namjoon: She did? I don’t know. I had left it on the desk when I ran to the bathroom. What did she say? You: That you were busy. What was she doing with your phone? Namjoon: We were working on something in the recording studio. Guess I left my phone in there when I had run to the bathroom. Please don’t think too much into it. You: I’m not. Just curious. Is she helping with Jimin’s Mixtape? How’s that going? Namjoon: Uh, yeah. It’s going well. Hoping to have it down by tomorrow night. I should probably get back to working on it. I’ll call you later, baby.

You read his last text over and over. Your body starts to shake as angry tears begin to spill from your eyes. He lied. He just told you a flat out lie. You don’t even respond back, throwing your phone on the coffee table as you fall onto the couch. You curse at yourself, feeling like such a fool for believing Namjoon had actually changed. He hasn’t changed at all. If anything he picked up more bad habits along the way. Adding a liar and a cheat to your list of reasons why you two won’t be able to work things out. “Well, not a cheat,” you think to yourself. “It’s not like we were back to being boyfriend and girlfriend.” The single thought makes more tears spill down your cheeks as bitterness coats like an undissolving film on your tongue. You turn to your side, curling up into yourself on the couch, the soft sniffles from your crying slowly lulling you to sleep.

Saturday goes by in a blur. You spent the whole day moping on your couch, ignoring every call or text that came your way. You once again cry yourself to sleep. The two glasses of wine and the Valentine’s themed rom coms playing on the TV helping contribute to your tearful state. You wake up Sunday morning after your crying session the night before. Determined to not waste another day moping over your failed relationship, you jump in the shower, giving yourself a quick pep talk as you refuse to let some stupid boy ruin the rest of your weekend.

Getting dressed, you slip on a pair of sweatpants and a tank top, forgoing a bra. You aren’t planning on leaving to go anywhere anytime soon. Perfectly content with spending your day alone in your apartment with trash tv and a bottle of wine. You continue to ignore Namjoon’s calls and texts throughout the day. Turning your ringer on silent and placing it face down on your kitchen countertop. The subtle buzzing noise from the vibrations is not as aggravating to your nerves like the noisy ringtone.

It’s just nearing 6PM when you open your fridge, pulling out the unfinished bottle of Moscato from the night before when you hear your phone buzz again. Your curiosity as to why he has called and texted you more in the last 24 hours than he has in the last week gets the best of you. Snatching your phone off the countertop, you see Namjoon’s name flashing on your screen. You swipe to answer the call and bring the phone up to your ear.

“What?” You bite into the phone, the current mood you’re in does not allow you to feign any sense of civility for the start of this conversation.

“Wow. Hello to you, too. Everything okay?” Namjoon speaks cautiously on the other end, worry and confusion evident in his tone.

“Everything’s peachy,” you say, popping your ‘p’ as you pour yourself a glass of wine and take a big gulp. “How’s the mixtape going?” You know Namjoon is able to feel the sarcastic bite to your words, but he doesn’t call you out on it. Continuing on as if he doesn’t notice.

“About that. I wanna show you something. Can you meet me at the studio? And, uh, wear something nice.” His easy tone and his blatant disregard for your obvious annoyance angers you. You take another big sip of your wine and decide to not hold back your frustration any longer.

“Why don’t you show Areum,” you respond, your voice doing a terrible mimic of hers when you say her name.

“What?” Joonie questions. “Y/N. What are you on?”

“You tell me, Joon,” you bark into the phone, your voice starting to raise in volume as you lean back against your kitchen counter. “She’s the one you’ve been spending all of your time with lately. Considering Jimin’s mixtape was finished Wednesday.”

You hear him curse underneath his breath, letting out a sigh before he speaks. “Who told you?”

“Does it matter?” You wait, allowing for time to see if he would at least speak up to try and defend himself. Throw out whatever random excuse to talk his way out of this. But you’re only met with his silence. Every wordless second from him pushes a dagger into your heart. Your chest constricts from the pain and it makes you want to hurry and end the phone call right then and there. “Anyways, I can’t come and meet you. I have company. For a Galentine’s Day.”

“Y/N, I know Tina is out with Jimin. Just please come and see me,” Namjoon says, his tone beginning to sound exasperated.

“I have other friends, Namjoon.” You don’t. Not really. At least not anyone that you’d be hanging out with outside of a work function, but he didn’t have to know that. Nor did he need to know about your canceled Galentine’s plan.

“Come on, Y/N. You’re being ridiculous,” Namjoon huffs into the phone, his tone scolding. You can picture how he looks right now. Fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as he tries to control his simmering frustration with you. “Just please come meet me at the studio and I’ll explain everything.”

“No, but I agree. It was ridiculous of me to think you’ve changed. It was ridiculous of me to even try and give us another chance.” You pause your speech as your voice begins to crack. Taking a deep breath in and out of your mouth before continuing. “Now, I have to go. The very deliciously ripped male stripper has arrived. Have a fun life with Areum.”

“For the last time, nothing is going on… Wait did you say a fucking strip --” You end the call, cutting Namjoon off midsentence. A sly smile stretching across your face as you turn off your phone. The smile only lasts for a few seconds until the realization hits. The fact that you and Namjoon are once again ‘no more’ sinks in as quickly as your heart sinks to the bottom of your chest.

Grabbing the wine bottle off the counter, you pour yourself another glass as you walk to your living room, plopping down onto your couch.

You must have dozed off sometime after you finished your last glass of wine. The loud knocking on your door ripping you from your wine induced nap as you’re quickly sitting up on your couch. Your head starts to spin from the quick movement. You stand up, grumbling under your breath that you’re on your way as you walk to the door, unlocking and wrenching it open. “Can you cut it out?” You yell before even looking to see who the crazy visitor was. The moment your eyes focus on the obsessive knocker, they grow twice in size, your mouth dropping open just as wide. “Namjoon?!”

There in your doorway, dressed in the same button up and slacks from the bar weeks before, stands your ex boyfriend. Jaw clenched as he storms into your apartment, throwing the bag he is holding on to your couch as he takes a look around before letting out a scoff. “You cheeky little brat. You lied about the stripper just to make me angry, didn’t you?”

Your face flushes with anger at his accusatory tone. You, the liar? He’s really going to point that finger at you? “Seriously?” you screech, slamming your front door in frustration before walking up to him. “YOU are going to scold ME for lying? How about you explain why you lied about you and Areum before you say ANYTHING to me about lying.”

“Nothing is going on between me and Areum!” He yells back, the growing frustration evident in his tone. The top two undone buttons of his shirt gives you a peek of the red flush growing up his chest and neck from his anger.

“I saw you at the release party with her. I saw the way you had smiled at her as she was clinging on to your arm,” you bark back, blinking back the tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

“What are you talking about?” His questions coming out through a disbelief laugh.

“After you thought I left. I came back in to grab my purse and I saw the two of you all close and personal while talking to some man.” You cross your arms, waiting to see the “oh shit” look flash on to his face knowing that he’d been caught. But it doesn’t come. Instead, he lets out a sardonic laugh, shaking his head as his hands move to rub his face.

“That was Areum’s father. He owns that Italian restaurant you’ve been wanting to try. She was introducing me to him so I can secure us a Valentine’s Day reservation. You know, for tonight!”

Your mouth drops down into an ‘Oh’ before you quickly shut it. That explains the night of the release, but it doesn’t answer for his behavior this last week or the fact that she was with him Friday night. “Then why lie to me about the mixtape? Why have you been spending so much time with her at work?” Your voice is softer, but the underlying hurt is still evident in your tone.

“I promised her father to help Areum create some demo tracks in exchange for him squeezing us in for a reservation,” he says, dropping his hands from his face to look at you. He takes in your teary expression, his shoulders deflating slightly as he softens his own town before continuing his response. “I just wanted to do something nice for you. And the pressure to try and get Jimin’s mixtape and her demo done before tonight made me tunnel vision on just that.”

You don’t say anything. You stand there just looking at him as he leans up against your couch, guilt creeping into the pit of your stomach. When you don’t say anything, he takes it as a chance to continue. “I thought I had shown you up until then that I’ve changed. I thought I could trust you to be patient with me. That you’d be more understanding.” He looks away from you at the end of his words, clenching his jaw as he looks down at his feet.

“Wow,” you breathe out, not able to think of anything else to say. You both stand there for a few minutes in silence, neither one of you looking at each other as you take in everything he said. It dawns on you that Namjoon wasn’t in the wrong here. Not really. Things could’ve been handled better by him but the same goes for you.

Things were going so well. You had lost yourself in the comforting warmth that came with having him back in your life. The bliss and happiness from experiencing his instant change in attention to you and your relationship overshadowing any thoughts of doubt that existed in your mind, practically making them appear nonexistent. You start to wonder if, in the back of your mind, you were trying to look for something he was doing wrong. Your underlying fear of failure jumping into action the moment anything wrong exposed itself. Latching on to your subconscious and leaking negativity and doubt into you like a poison. Knowing it was your fault that the night he had planned for the two of you was ruined, you knew it was up to you to try to fix it. To try and turn it around. And you have a small inkling of just how you could do that.

“I’m sorry, Joonie,” you say to him as you take a step closer, leaning in with your hand on his chest to give him a quick kiss. He turns away from you just slightly, jaw still clenched as you place a small peck on his cheek. You feel terrible, knowing you should have given him the benefit of the doubt that he wasn’t reverting back to his old ways. That he was really trying to prove to you that he changed. You place another kiss on his cheek, following it up with a few quick kisses on his neck that you feel make him shiver. Your lips twitch up into a smile, knowing you’re breaking through his cold demeanor.

Suddenly, an idea pops into your head. A name he loved that you called him, one that you used to your favor to help get you out of trouble. You make your way up to his ear, nibbling on it just slightly before you whisper seductively, “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

You feel his body stiffen as you trail your hand down his chest and to the front of his jeans. Your palm barely grazes his growing bulge when he grabs your wrist in his hand, snatching it away from him causing you to back away in surprise. He wraps his other arm around you, his palm pressing at the small of your back to keep you close to him. Your eyes flicker to his and you let out a small gasp as you meet his hooded gaze. The beautiful swirls of cinnamon and honey that paints his irises are gone, disappearing behind a dark, seductive shade of lust. Falling deep into the dark depths of his lustrous gaze, you barely notice the smirk he gives as he leans in towards your ear.

“Oh, no baby. It seems like someone has forgotten her manners.” The deep timber of his voice sends shivers down your spine, straight to your core. You feel the wetness of your arousal leaking from you and you involuntarily rub your thighs together to try and find some relief as he continues the seductive assault on your ear. “Only good girls get to call me Daddy. Disobedient little brats call me Mr. Kim.” He pulls back just slightly away from you, his dark eyes meeting your gaze once again. “Now what do you have to say for yourself?”

You cock your head to the side, licking your lips before you give him the most innocent smile. “I am so, so sorry, Mr. Kim.”

Namjoon narrows his eyes at you. His dark orbs piercing into you as he clicks his tongue against his teeth. “You know,” he sneers, pushing himself off the back of your couch. Still holding on to you as he walks you a few steps backwards. “You’ve been acting like a real brat lately. I guess that’s something about you that will never change, hmm?”

He lets go of you, his hands moving to unbutton his shirt as he steps away from you, turning to walk around your couch. You take a step forward to follow him, stopping in your tracks when he raises his finger at you. He wags it back and forth, making a tisk noise as he continues his way around the couch. “Nuh-uh. You stay right there until I call for you, brat.”

The deep, domineering drawl to his voice has your knees weakening. A fresh gush of arousal seeps out of you, pooling in your panties as you continue to rub your thighs together. Still searching for some sort of relief. You know if you were to look right now, you’d bet your underwear would be almost completely soaked. The way the cotton fabric is sticking to your lips a clear indication that your guess is right.

You watch as Namjoon finishes unbuttoning his shirt, leaving it on but open as he stands staring at you with the couch being the only thing between you. He reaches down, placing his hand on top of his growing bulge. He starts moving his arm back and forth, slowly palming himself as if to taunt you. Teasing you with every slow stroke he takes up and down his long, clothed length. His dark orbs scour your entire body. You feel your body tingle as your skin grows hot from his piercing stare. The feeling of hot flames of lust licking at your every nerve ending as his hungry eyes graze over your body. Slowly tracing every dip and curve of your standing figure. You bite your bottom lip, trying to stifle a needy whine that threatens to escape. The verbal reaction, betraying you, rumbling up your throat and slipping past your lips. His eyes flicker up to the subtle movement. His pupils dilating with want at your feral sound. The tension in the air thickens. Your hand twitches from the need to touch him; your mouth beginning to water from craving his taste. Your legs feel restless, the urge to close the distance between you two cause your knees to gently buckle. The need to wrap your legs around him, to push him deep inside you growing stronger by the second.

Namjoon cocks his brow at you. Silently daring you to move before he calls for you. Testing your resolve, your patience, as he continues to stroke himself. You knew this game, loved it. It was one you two played many times before in the year you were together. You knew if you behave, play by his rules, there would be a pleasurable payoff for you in the near future. “Good girls get rewarded,” he once purred into your ear. The memory of past earnings sends a shiver down your spine. But with the way he was looking at you, the anger from your argument still fresh on his mind, you know you would have to work for your reward. Your punishment for misbehaving would come first. The idea of receiving a punishment from Namjoon for the first time in months excites you. The walls of your pussy fluttering and clenching around nothing with just the thought of what he has planned for you. You would never admit it to him, but sometimes you enjoy the punishment a lot more than the reward.

Satisfied with your obedience so far, Namjoon smirks at you. Turning his back to you as he sits down on the couch, digging into the bag he threw on to it just moments earlier, taking something out before pushing the bag off the cushion. The bag hits your living room floor, the remaining contents making a noise as they knock together. “Did he bring a bag of toys with him?” you think to yourself. Your thoughts are soon cut off by the sound of him calling out to you, “Come here, baby.”

Your legs move on instinct, your body just a slave to his voice the moment he ignites your carnal desire. You move slowly around the couch, standing in front of where he sits as he continues to stroke himself through his pants. You don’t sit down, no matter how badly you want to straddle him. The position he’s in is the perfect one for you to be able to grind down onto his member. The command is only to come to him. You know doing anything more before he says will just add on to your punishment. The waking brat in you tells you to do it anyways, but you don’t listen to her. Not yet.

Namjoon watches you through his hooded gaze, his eyes roaming over your body until they stop at your chest. Your perk nipples visibly straining through the thin fabric of your tank top. He licks his lips, his voice deep and raspy as delivers another command. “Strip, now.”

You do as you’re told, slowly slipping your sweat pants and panties off at the same time. You take your time standing back upright. Kicking your discarded clothing off to the side as you grab the bottom hem of your tank top. Slowly moving it up your torso inch by inch. “Don’t tease, baby,” Namjoon growls, his dark eyes shooting up to yours as your walls clench again from his warning.

You smile innocently, pulling your tank top up just a little faster. You let the bottom hem catch under your breast, causing your tits to bounce free once you finally lift your tank top over your head, throwing the item up and over Namjoon’s head. You continue to stand, reveling in the way Namjoon devours your curves with his eyes. He meets your gaze once again, taking his hand off his length and placing on the arm of the couch. “On your knees. You understand what to do from there. Right, brat?” He punctuates his words. Eyes never leaving you as you sink to your knees, your hands rushing to free him from the confines of clothing. You grasp the top of his undone pants and boxers. Namjoon lifts his hips just slightly, allowing you to pull his clothes down. His long, thick dick breaking free and slapping against his abdomen.

Your mouth instantly begins to water again. You forgot how big he was. Your eyes trailing up his impressive length, refamiliarizing yourself with the long veins that decorate his beautiful cock. The large mushroom tip, angrily colored red as drops of precum leak out. The need to taste him intensifies. You waste no time in taking him into your grasp. Your small hand wraps around the base of his cock, fingertips no where near touching due to the absurdity of his thickness. You slowly start pumping him, gathering each drop of precum as you reach the top to help lubricate your hand going back down. Namjoon lets out a humor content, eyes still hooded as he watches you stroke his dick. You lean forward, looking up at him through your lashes as you roll your tongue around his tip. You hear his breath hitch, not giving him a chance to catch his breath before you take him into your mouth. You move your head up and down, starting out with shallow bobs as you get accustomed to his length. Taking him in deeper with each pass until you feel his tip graze the back of your throat.

Being out of practice, you gag slight on reflex the moment you feel him touch the back of your throat. A deep moan rumbles through Namjoons chest as his eyes flutter close. His hand moves to your hair, gathering it into a makeshift ponytail as you start to move faster. “Fuck, baby,” he groans, his hips starting to rut up, matching your pace. His groans motivate you, urging you to take him in deeper, faster. Your throat relaxes as his tip moves past your gag reflex. Namjoon starts guiding you with the hand in your hair, slightly pulling up and pushing down rapidly to quicken his pace. You let him take control, bracing your hands on the couch as your apartment fills with the obscene sounds of Namjoon fucking his dick into your mouth. You feel a messy layer of spit forming around your mouth, mixtures of drool and precum dribbling down your chin as Namjoon continues to pump his length into you. You start to gag again, your lungs burning with the need for air.

Out of nowhere he slams his hips up into you, shoving half his length down your throat. Hand firm on the back of your head to keep you in place. Your eyes start to water. A single tear escaping down your cheek as you close your eyes, concentrating on breathing through your nose to try and catch a much needed breath. You feel Namjoon’s cock twitch deep in your throat. You swallow, the sounds of his appreciating deep groans shooting straight down to your core. Another gush of arousal leaking out of you and you feel it drip down your thigh and on to your floor. Namjoon asks you to do that again through a breathy moan and fulfill his command. Receiving a slurred, “that’s my good girl” as he starts moving your head up and down again. You preen under his praise. His words sparking a fire in you and you take back control of the pace in which you suck his dick. Moving faster and taking him in as deep as you can with each pass. A slew of curses fly past Namjoon’s lips as he clenches your makeshift ponytail tighter.

“Slow down baby or you’re gunna make me cum. I’m not ready yet,” he moans trying to pull up on hair to take back control. You ignore him, bobbing your head faster before you hear a growl roll through his chest. Namjoon yanking you off his dick by your hair as you let out a whine. “I said slow down, you little brat,” he growls, his chest moving rapidly up and down as he tries to catch his breath. You look up at him, a smirk on your lip as you lick around your mouth, gathering up every drop of his salty taste that still lingers. Before you can swallow, Namjoon reaches for your face. Pulling down the corner of your mouth, causing a pool of your precum mixed spit to dribble back down your chin. “You’re just my filthy little cockwhore, aren’t you?” He chides and you hum in approval.

He releases your hair and face, leaning back into the couch and taking his length back into his hand again as he passes out another command, “Turn around, come sit on my dick.” His abrasiveness only further turns you on, hopping up off the floor quickly and turning your back to him. He quickly removes the remainder of his clothing. Tossing his pants and shirt over the couch to join your previously thrown top. He grabs your waist with his free hand, guiding you down in his lap as he positions himself at your core. He pauses your descent, rubbing his tip teasingly between your slick lips as he holds you up. You let out another whine, trying to push yourself down onto him as you speak without thinking. “Don’t tease,” you whine. You feel him move his tip away from your entrance, not allowing you a second to try and figure out where he went when you feel a harsh slap land on your pussy. You cry out, the sensation a mixture of pain and pleasure. “You don’t get to give the orders tonight, brat,” he growls into your ear.

Once again repositioning himself at your lips, resuming his teasing back and forth strokes. You whimper in need, trying so hard to be patient, not wanting to give him anymore reason to lengthen his teasing you. As if he heard your inner plea, he stops his tip right at your entrance, slowly lowering you down onto him. Your mouth drops open in a silent moan, eyes closing shut as you feel the slight sting from the stretch of his large size. The hand you braced on the arm of the couch slips, causing you to fall slightly into Namjoon’s lap, taking more of him in. He lets out a deep moan, the vibrations from his chest rumble on your back, causing another wave of arousal to leak from you. Allowing the last few inches of Namjoon’s absurd length to slip in you until he’s buried to the hilt inside you. “Fuck, I’ve missed this tight little cunt,” he groans and you sigh in satisfaction. A small wave of relief flowing through you now that you have him inside you once again.

A minute passes by as you both sit there not moving; Namjoon’s grip on your waist making it hard for you to move. Your frustration starts creeping up again and you feel your clit pulse with need. You grind down ever so subtly in his lap, trying to create some sort of friction. Your unapproved attempt doesn’t go unnoticed. Namjoon’s hand coming down on you once again, this time the harsh slap landing on your clit. You cry out again, the sting from the slap still lingering but it’s like your body doesn’t even notice, the action only making you grow more wet.

“Impatient little slut,” Namjoon huffs under his breath as he picks up a blue silicone object and slips it on to his finger. He presses a button near the bottom, a faint buzzing sound from the now vibrating silicone ring following shortly after. He presses his covered finger to your clit, still keeping his cock motionless inside of you. You let out a low moan as the low vibrations lick at your little bundle of nerves. Namjoon makes small, slow circles around your swollen bean as he leans your head back with his freehand. He nips at your earlobe. Sweat forming across your brow as he continues his slow circles. A subtle tension forms like a slow coil in your core. The burning need of your growing orgasm, faint but it’s there. It only adds to your frustration, the need to beg for more resting on the tip of your tongue. Namjoon nips at you once more before whispering into your ear, “This little thing has three settings. The more you behave, the higher it will go. Now, are you going to be a good girl for Daddy?”

You nod your head frantically, words escaping you as you try to focus on the low vibrations tickling your clit, trying to find a way to increase the pressure without moving. Namjoon moves the vibrator off you, quickly replacing it with another slap to your clit. You cry out again, your walls clenching around his length causing a low moan to crawl up his chest. Namjoon presses the vibrator back on your clit, still buzzing at the lowest setting. “Use your words, brat,”he commands through clenched teeth. “Now,” he asks again, “are you going to be a good girl for Daddy?”

“Y-yes, Mr. Kim,” you stammer, your body starting to shake for the need of just more. Namjoon’s free hand trails up your stomach and cups your breast. He takes your hardened nipple between two fingers, rolling it before giving it a pinch. You let out a choked moan as he chuckles in your ear. “That’s my good girl,” he purrs before clicking the button on the vibrator, bumping it up to the mid level as he presses steady circles into your sensitive bean. You can’t control the wanton moans that fall from your lips. Your thighs start shaking in pleasure as the coil in your pit grows tighter, more of your juices leaking onto Namjoon’s cock and down your thighs. You feel your insides start to flutter, the walls of your pussy clenching around his length ever so often. You hear him let out a soft moan each time, his cock twitching inside of you. You lean back against him, arching your back as he keeps up his steady circles on your clit; showing no signs of his finger growing tired. Your head drops back on his shoulder as your eyes flutter shut. You slowly start rolling your hips forward, pushing your clit harder into the vibrator on his hand. The coil in your pit grows tighter, rolling your hips faster as Namjoon kisses your neck. Sucking red welts into your skin as he twirls his fingers faster, pressing the button on the toy and putting it on its highest level. Both of your breaths start to quicken. You feel your impending orgasm right at the precipice of release, all thoughts leaving your head. The only thing barely pulling your focus off chasing your release is Namjoon’s breathy groan in your ear, his velvety baritone pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“You gunna cum, baby?” he rasps, meeting each roll of your hips with his own. You nod your head, your mouth falling open as you feel your orgasm creeping up your body. You feel a rumble roll up his chest, a dark chuckle slipping past his lips as you feel his free hand wrap around your throat. “Well. that’s just too damn bad.”

He rips the vibrator away from you as he stops the roll of his hips. You start to whine in protest only for no noise to slip past your lips from the hand around your throat tightening ever so slightly. You feel his breath on your ear, tears forming at the corner of your eyes from the pain of your orgasm slipping away. “Disobedient whores don’t get to cum,” he bites into your ear, releasing his hand from your throat as he grabs a hold of your waist. You barely regain your breath when he starts fucking up into you ferociously, selfishly chasing his own release. You feel your orgasm rapidly build back up, shutting your eyes as you concentrate on its warmth. You try to force the knot inside of you to snap, feeling yourself getting closer and closer to your goal as Namjoon shifts his hips. The tip of his cock at just the right angle to hit repeated strikes to the rough patch inside of you. You can taste your release, Namjoon’s pace and precision bringing you right to the edge before he rips you off of him, falling back onto his stomach. You cry out from the sudden loss, your walls and clit pulsing painfully from the departure of another missed orgasm. Strings of his cum shoot up from his twitching length, coating your legs and stomach with his release.

He loosens the grip on your waist. You slid your body off of him and on to the vacant part of the couch. Your legs still quiver as your back meets the soft cushion. Namjoon looks over at you with hooded eyes, his chest heaving as his cock begins to soften to a semi-hard state. The corner of his lips twitches up into a smirk, causing his dimple to appear just briefly as he moves to crawl on top of you. He hovers over you, his face parallel with yours as he touches your face with his hand, wiping away the tears still clinging to your eyes. “You took your punishment well, baby,” he coos, closing his eyes as he places his forehead against yours, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. “Such a good girl,” he murmurs, catching your lips in a slow, deep kiss.

You move your lips in tandem. Namjoon lowers himself on to your body, grinding his rehardening cock against your core. He swallows your moans, taking the opportunity to slip his tongue between your lips. Your movements become more frantic. Namjoon licking into your mouth as he continues to rut into your pelvis, your kissing turning into nothing but tongue and teeth. He pulls away, a string of spit connecting your lips as you both come up for air. He sticks his tongue out, cutting the string as he wraps it around his wet appendage. Pulling it back into his mouth, his eyes darken with lust once more as he peers down at you. “Open,” he commands through gritted teeth.

Your eyes widen slightly, sparkling with anticipation as you open your mouth wide. You stick your tongue out, waiting patiently for whatever he has to give you. After a quick suck in of his cheeks, he forms a ball of spit from his lips, pushing it out with his tongue. It’s slow in its descent down to you. It lands perfectly on your tongue and you quickly pull it into your mouth, swallowing it down before sticking your tongue back as if asking him for more. His eyes light up with mirth, leaning in to place a quick kiss on your lips, trailing more quick kisses down your neck and to your chest. He kisses each of your nipples before settling on one, rolling his tongue around the hardened bud before lightly sucking. You arch into him, his face being smothered by your ample bosom as he continues to suck.

Sneaking his hand down in between you, he cups your heat. Tracing the outsides of your nether lips as you let out a light gasp. You ground down into his hand, silently begging for him to give your more. Your walls and clit are still throbbing, aching for the not one, but two denied orgasms. He releases your nipple with a pop, briefly grazing his teeth across the surface as he peers up at you. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

“Please let me cum, Daddy,” you whine, your tone embarrassingly high from need. You don’t have to wait long for him to answer your plea. He gathers your neverending leaking arousal on two fingers. Slipping both inside of you at once, easily able to reach knuckle deep due to your level of wetness. He pumps them in and out of you slowly, taking your other nipple into his mouth as he starts to pick up his speed. It’s not long before the knot beings to reform inside of you, your hips starting to match his pace as you fuck yourself onto his fingers. You let out another whine as he bites on your nipple, taking the opportunity to also slip a third finger into your pussy. He pumps them into you faster, curling them ever so often as he finds the sensitive spot inside of you. Your thighs start to quiver as your toes curl as you reach the edge of your release. Your inner walls begin to flutter, warning Namjoon of your impending orgasm. He curls his fingers again, the well timed graze across your rough patch is enough to snap the knot inside of you. Namjoon’s name falls from your lips like a mantra. Your orgasm washes over you in waves as he slightly lessens his pace, helping you ride out your pleasure as long as possible.

At the first sign of you coming down for your high, Namjoon releases your nipple. He resumes his previous pace with his fingers, quickly moving further down your body and taking your swollen clit between his lips. Your hands shoot down into his hair as he begins to suck. You pull at him, overstimulation causing your body to react on it’s own and try to push him away. He releases your clit, leaning up just far enough to land another slap on your pussy. Another choked cry escaping from your throat. “Behave,” he snaps. The one word the only thing he says to you before taking your bud back into his mouth. Feeling your walls begin to tighten again, he fucks into you faster. He curls his fingers with every thrust into you, flicking his tongue against your bud between different pressured sucks. An unearthly screech rumbles up your throat as your second orgasm hits you fast, harder than the one you experienced just a few moments before. Your gushing release forces Namjoon’s hands out from inside of you. Your juices splashing onto his chest as he releases your clit, moving down just a little lower to your clenching hole. You let out a moan as he runs his tongue between your lips. Obscene slurping sounds ringing throughout your living room as he laps up your juices, drinking down every drop like a man starved.

Oversensitivity kicks in again. You push at his head, your body barely able to put any force behind it as it still tries to recover from the back to back bliss. Namjoon releases you from his mouth, chuckling at you as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Evidence of your release still dripping from his chin as he moves back up your body to kiss you. He slips his tongue into your mouth, wrapping the muscle around your’s, painting it with the leftovers of your release. The taste of your arousal re energizes you, sucking his tongue between your lips to taste yourself even more. Still kissing you, Namjoon maneuvers your legs around his waist. He breaks the kiss, murmuring for you to hold on. He stands up off the couch, lifting you up at the same time. You let out a playful squeal as you throw your hands around your neck to keep you from falling. His hands are under your ass as he carries you towards the hallway leading to your bedroom. He kisses you as he walks, his hand groping your ass as he balances you with each step. His cock, nestled between your pussy and his abdomen, twitches with arousal from your continued moans.

He barely makes it to your closed bedroom door before pushing you up against it. You use the hard surface to support yourself, leaning back into as you grind your core on Namjoon’s cock. Your slick lips coating his length with your arousal as he ruts up into you, matching your movement. He leans in for a kiss and you catch him off guard. Catching his plump bottom lip between your teeth, biting it every so softly as you suck on it. Namjoon letting out a choked moan as you let it go. He pushes you further into the door, using the extra support to allow himself to position his dick at your entrance. “You think you can cum for me one more time, baby?” He asks you through a smirk, his slightly taunting tone poking at your inner brat, coaxing her to come out and finally play.

“Of course I do,” you state cockily. “The real question is can you make me cum one more time. Baby.” Namjoon lets out a deep growl and you feel the vibrations shoot straight to your cunt. Mixtures of adrenaline and excitement burning inside you as anger sparks like a flame in Namjoon’s eyes. He slams his thick rod to the hilt inside you. You let out a strangled moan from the sudden intrusion. Your fingernails digging into his shoulders as he pushes off your door. He starts fucking up into you. Gravity brings you down harder on him as he bounces you on his cock.

“Next time, I’m gagging the little bratty mouth of yours,” he growls. He makes a quick grab for the doorknob, opening the door and stumbling into your room and towards your bed.

Namjoon is still speared inside you as he drops you both onto your bed, scooting you up the mattress until your head meets your pillow. He grabs you under your knee, lifting it up and into your chest, allowing him to fuck into you at a deeper, more delectable angle. “This pussy was fucking made for me,” he grunts. Sweat coloring his brow as he continues plowing into you. His balls slapping your ass each time he drives himself to the hilt inside of you. Your hands grasp at the sheets, your eyes rolling back into your head as you feel your orgasm growing once again. Wanton moans fall from your lips with every delicious stroke of his cock against your velvety walls. Your pussy is still sensitive from your previous two orgasms, slight oversensitivity kicking in but it only heightens the pleasure. You open your eyes, your lids fluttering from the pleasure as you blink to focus your vision on Namjoon. The street light peeking through the window falls on his face, allowing you to see him, eyes closed with his mouth dropped open, losing himself in the pleasure that is you. As if he feels your stare, he opens his eyes and peers down at you. His pupils are blown with lust yet his gaze brims with so much love and adoration as he continues to stare at you, causing a warm comfort of matching affection to start to bloom in your chest.

Dropping your knee, he slows his thrust. Changing to grinding deep into you as he moves his hands to cup your face. Kissing you deeply, he rests his forehead on yours again, speaking to you softly between labored breaths. “You know you’re the only one I want like this. Or like anything. I only want you.”

Your lips spread wide in a smile, your hands release their grip on the bed sheets, moving to the back of his head. You bring him in for another kiss before returning his sentiment. “I feel the same way, Joonie,” you huff out softly. “Now fuck me.”

Namjoon’s lips break into a quick smirk before pressing a rough kiss into yours. He pushes himself back up. A hand on your waist and his other pushed up against your head board as he starts deeply thrusting into you at an unrelenting pace. Your hands claw at his back as you arch up into him. The sensation of him striking your g-spot quickly brings another orgasm into fruition. A delicious warmth pooling in your core as you feel his movements start to stutter. “I’m close, baby,” he confesses through gritted teeth. His voice is strained as he tries to hold on just a bit longer to his release. Breathy whines asking him to ‘Don’t stop’ the only thing you're able to say in response as you creep closer and closer to the edge. He moves his hand on your waist between you, finding your clit with his thumb and rubbing it in quick circles. “Come with me, baby.” He only lasts a few more pumps into you before he’s driving into you deep, tip pressed firmly into your rough patch as he loses himself to his release. You’re quick to follow him, that last thrust the last push you need to send you over the edge. His seed spilling into you in never ending spurts, filling you up to the brim as your pussy clenches around him. He collapses on top of you, the rhythmic pulses of your walls continuing to milk him for all he’s worth, soaking up every last drop of his release.

You both lie there, chests moving rapidly up and down as you both try to catch your breaths. Namjoon's softening cock still nestled inside of you as you lightly trail your fingers up his spine. After a few minutes, he leans up, pulling himself out of you as you both wince from the loss. The mixture of your combined release starts to slowly leak out of you, dripping onto your bedsheets. He rolls to lay beside you, sliding his arm under your shoulders to pull you into him. The stickiness of your skin from your labored sweat feeling slightly uncomfortable on his, but you don’t care. Still wrapping your arms around him, your head on his chest as he rests his chin on you.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have ignored you like that. Or lied about why I was staying late. I just really wanted to surprise you and I’m terrible at keeping secrets,” he says, nuzzling his face into your hair as you scoot in closer to him.

“I know, Joonie. And I’m sorry, too. I should’ve given you the benefit of the doubt. I promised to be more understanding and I didn’t do that.” He loosens his hold on you, allowing you to lie back on the bed, still facing him.

“Then let’s start over. Try working on things again. This time, as boyfriend and girlfriend,” he asks, smiling down at you as you smile back at him. Propping up on an elbow, you raise your head up and catch his lips in a deep kiss. His smile while kissing you back lets you know that this was an acceptable enough answer. Breaking apart, you lay back down as he moves to trail kisses across your shoulder. “I brought a whole bag of things to use on you, and I barely got to dive into it. Just another thing that didn’t really go as planned,” he says with a sigh, propping his head on his hand as he looks down on you. You glance at the clock on your bedside table before turning back to Namjoon. “The night’s still young,” you purr, trailing one of your fingers down his chest. “How about you spend the night, and I’ll let you use the whole bag on me twice.”

Namjoon grins wide, mischief coloring his eyes as he maneuvers himself back on top of you. “Deal.”

#bts smut #bangtansorciere #bangtanuniversity #bangtanhq #bangtanarmynet #kwritersworldnet #btsbookclub #houseofddaeng #btswriterscollective #btswritingcafe #hyunglinenetwork #namjoon smut #namjoon x you #namjoon x reader #namjoon x yn #bts fan fic #namjoon fan fic

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angelicichor · 5 years ago

Note

Wait. Requests are open? Fuck yes. Then I request Thomas bending me over stuff and fucking me into next year! Art or words man it don't matter. Its gonna be fantastic either way .My U R G E S are out of this world right now.

U… I like you. I might actually do some more….. F I L T H Y art of Tommy-boy, but I ain’t home now so that’ll have to wait. For now however…

N//SF//W

Thomas being a bit too eager… but in a good way.Female reader for this one… sorry folks.

Enough

Summer has been a bad season in Texas, for obvious reasons - heat, dryness and dust, oh god the dust, it was everywhere, sticking to everybody’s sweat covered bodies, making it unbearable to go shirtless, but also impossible to go with anything more prude on.

In a way you had a hate-love relationship with this season, you’ve always lived in colder places, so the warmth of the sun was murdering you and seeing Charlie with his big ol’ belly pouch and old man tits out, covered in white, untamed chest hair was an ENORMOUS problem, but at the same time tis’ was the season for drinking refrigerated sodas and eating copious amounts of ice cream that Luda Mae made herself and gosh darn it was delicious.

But the most amazing stuff wasn’t any drink or a snack, no, it was the full-blown dinner date that was Thomas, abandoning his usual shirt and tie to don a simple black tank top, that clung to his chest almost perversely, showing off his robust bicep, beautifully shaped triceps, as well some of the powerful muscle of his back, his tan skin glistening with sweat as he bent over a car’s hood, opening it to check what in tarnation was wrong with Hoyt’s sheriff car, the old man being too damn lazy to do it himself, god bless him for that.

With the apron gone you also had a wonderful view of Tommy’s firm legs and thick ass, stretching the material every time he’d bend over to reach inside the machine. It looked so damn squeezable, but you knew better than to interrupt the man at work, knowing that Luda would be over you in a second, scolding you for not working yourself. You loved her, but how could she NOT understand that her son was a god damned gem and you NEEDED to take a closer look at him.

He seemed oblivious to your hungry gaze coming from the porch, unaware how his form made your heart flutter and your gut heat up thinking of all the wonderful things that behemoth could do to you and that fact made you FURIOUS. It’s not like you didn’t try to initiate things either, just every time you tried anything Charlie would bring in some new meat or Luda would need her son to go to the station with her to help unpack some deliveries or Monty needed to be carried off the sun, too tired from the heat to move on his own.

Little to say, you were frustrated, but a chance to take revenge on this beautiful, dark haired bastard was coming and oh so very soon.

The thought brought a devilish grin onto your face, an expression that made Charlie go “You alright, girlie?” above you and you snapped to attention. “Ya lookin’ at my nephew like he the next one in line for dinner.” He laughed and you puffed at him, standing up with a slight blush, dusting off your jeans.“Sorry, sir, just thought of something funny.” you lied and he cocked an eyebrow, not really believing you.“U-huh, sure, darlin’. Ya ready to go into town? Got the money?” he asked and you smiled warmly, lifting your purse up and shaking it slightly. “Good, let’s go.”

With that you almost jumped towards the old pick-up that waited right next to Hoyt’s sheriff car. Not able to resist the urge you took a swing and slapped Tommy’s perked butt, making him rise in shock and hit his head on the metal above him. You laughed, before getting into the truck and closing the door, so he wouldn’t pull you out. He most likely still could, but instead he rolled his eyes, massaging his head and shaking it shortly in disbelief before going back to work.

Once in the town you quickly parted with Hoyt, running to find a decent, still functioning clothes store, a woman on a mission.

Your plan wasn’t enacted until the next morning, however. For once you’ve been happy that Thomas always woke up way before you, leaving you to your own devices. That was his biggest mistake yet.

The day was pleasant, even with the sun shinning down on all of you mercilessly, there was a nice breeze going through, something you all hoped would be there to stay. You were very helpful right from the morning, shining with enthusiasm when told to hang the laundry, feed the chickens in the coop Charlie and Thomas installed some time ago, and then come back to help Luda Mae make some cookies.

And you probably though you were cute, wearing that baby blue summer dress that was just a bit too short to be innocent, with a bow in front, slightly to the side, as well as those stockings that hugged your tight just right, making it look so squeezable, with those flat sandals that made you look just so much shorter and more adorable.

And you’d also think you were being sly, brushing your hand across Tommy’s forearm while passing him on the way to the coop in a rush, as if the chickens were going to escape, or when you heard his boots stop in from of the kitchen entrance and ‘dropped a fork on accident’, bending down with only your back, giving him a peek at your white, frilly underwear, and acting like you totally didn’t mean to lick that batter of the spoon in such a seductive way.

But he knew what you were doing, realized it the moment he has seen your outfit and those hungry eyes you gave him unconsciously, but Thomas was a patient man. He let you play your game, refusing to give in to your advances, so you’d be forced to come to him and ask properly for him to take you, enduring the constant sting of arousal building in his body when he would notice you, going around, completing your tasks, acting like you don’t notice him. He was doing a fine job, too.

That is, until you up and tripped, falling to your knees right before him and looking up at his masked face with those huge, bashful eyes, a blush creeping it’s way onto your cheek.

And Thomas could swear he heard something in his head snap.

You tried to get up, but before you could rise one leg you’ve been swooped up by your neck to met his eyes. There was an anger to them, but it wasn’t what made you shiver, it was the true, unfiltered, primal lust that resonated from them, as well as the sweet smell of hormones and frustration making your head spin and leg pull up slightly, as your hands helped the rest of your body not suffer from the Butcher’s hold.

The next time you blinked, your whole body has been shoved onto the kitchen table, Thomas’ free hand throwing multiple objects onto the floor, creating a lot of noise that made your anxiety spike, but he couldn’t care less, leaning into you, one hand still keeping you in a choke-hold, the other gripping onto your tight, giving it a good, firm squeeze. His forehead pressed onto your lightly, his eyes focused on yours, a small smirk rising on his lips, followed by a hungry lick, delight hitting him hard when you shivered just at his hot breath hitting you.

With a rushed motion he pushed one of your legs away, the other giving way for his muscular tight, pressing onto your heat, you hips bucking against it in reflex, wanting to feel the man’s warmth.

His free hand shifted from your tight to your chest, rising with your heated breaths, stopping at your right tit and massaging it roughly, pinching your nipple the moment it started hardening, a quiet laugh moving his body when you squeaked at the sensation, your hands moving form his forearm to your mouth, pink painting your cheeks. With that the hand holding you down moved, trailing your body down, until it reached your heat, then pressing against it and rubbing it up and down slowly through your already soaked panties, his index finger pressing them in to reach deeper inside you.

Your hands stifled your whimpers and moans as he teased your chest and entrance, seemingly not phased by the fact that anyone could walk in on you two at any second, that Luda Mae was supposed to come back to resume making the baked treats, but you were slowly forgetting about all that too, too focused on how good his hand felt on your covered cunt, how his eyes pierced yours, so close, warning you not to move a muscle if you wanted him to be nice and you feared what would happen if you disobeyed.

Soon enough one of his fingers slid your panties to the side, making you feel vulgar, even more that you already did, exposed to the world on the table, but all the anxiety you felt melted into nothing, as one of his fingers slid inside you, unannounced. It moved slowly, parting your walls and teasing your nerves, making you tremble at the feeling, insides clenching with need, allowing him to please you, even more so when a second one joined, picking up the speed, already making you feel almost full with how thick and rough they were, hitting you exactly where you needed them.

Your trembling fingers kept collecting your sounds of pleasure, hiding your face from him once he lifted his head away from your face, to look down at your squirming form and he wouldn’t have that, leaving your breasts and pulling your hands above your head, your lips pressing in a line as a reaction and you saw the satisfied smile on his face.

A third finger squeezed it’s way inside you, making your head loll back in shock, a weak moan leaving your lips and that was enough for him.

Slowly he pulled his fingers out of you, making you whimper at the sudden emptiness, eyes closing just for a second, just to look back at him with a small pout, silently telling him how rude he was to do something like this to you, but his devilish smile let you know that he didn’t care, bringing his fingers, still covered in your slick to your face with a silent order, to which your lips pressed together in an act of rebellion.

An act that he quickly ruined, pushing his hips against you, spreading your legs further to accommodate his width and making you gasp with the pressure of his hardened erection, still covered with his jeans, on your needy cunt. The moment your lips parted his fingers slid in and his eyes warned you not to bite, so fearfully you obeyed, letting your tongue collect your wetness, with a deep flush on your cheeks.

Finally his fingers retreated, leaving you panting below the giant, eyes closed in shame.

You heard a clack and some shuffling and just seconds later something warm and slick pressed against your entrance, forcing your eyes open, wide in terror as you struggled to get your hands free, but to no avail with Thomas’ hand still holding them down like an iron shackle.

“No, no Tommy!! Somebody will see, please not he--!” ignoring your pleas he shoved himself into you, the power in his thrust making you scream out, moving the table slightly. Your legs pressed up to your chest, spasming slightly, as the thickness of his cock spread you wide, making your muscles tighten, a long whimper escaping your mouth, your body unable to relax around him, your only saving grace being your wetness and you scolded your brain for bringing the phrase “curiosity killed the cat” to your head.

The pull of his hips burned, sending spiking pleasure throughout your whole body, mixed with a hint of pain, and the second thrust was not kinder, again earning him a sweet whimper, as you desperately tried to stay at least a bit quiet, but as his speed slowly picked up, reaching a steady rhythm, making the leftover things on the table clatter, you couldn’t handle being silent anymore. Every time he hit your end, you moaned, screamed, cried for him to go faster, harder, and he happily obliged, making you see stars over and over again, your hands struggling in his grip, body lifting off the table in a fit of pure ecstasy, letting him ravage you, use you however he wanted, you brought this upon yourself, after all, and now you were going to pay dearly for your teasing.

Just as your mind was becoming a mess you heard a crack and panic returned to you, making your walls clench against his dick sharply, making him groan, his free hand pressing onto your hips, hard enough to leave bruises, but you noticed another crack and realized something horrible.

“To---Thomas!!” You screamed and his eyes shoot up to yours, making your skin errupt in goosebumps at just how feral he looked. “Th---The table!! The table’s gonna!!” You warned and he growled, both of his hands lifting you up to his chest, still kept full of him, until he pulled out just to slam you on your belly onto the kitchen counter, kicking the breath right out of your lungs, and plunging right back into you, his furious hands reaching to the walls as he kept himself steady, pounding into you aggresively. One of them pressed your head to the wooden surface, before grabbing your hair and forcing you up and into an arch, the other following to keep you steady by your waist, forced to look him in the eye.

You felt your climax building, quickly and he didn’t protest when your fingers found your swollen clit, circling it furiously, desperate to reach that peak and you saw him smile, his lips mouthing the word “COME” and with your eyes shooting wide open you did, your walls collapsing on his cock in an almost painful manner, but he forced them away, seeking his own release, ridding your orgasm out as you screamed his name repeatedly, only strengthening his desire to destroy you, finding the strength to pound you harder, fuzzing your mind, making you a babbling, begging mess, moaning as your head was slammed back onto the counter and adoring the dizziness that came with the sudden motion.

His fingers digged into your hips, keeping you still and the stutter in his last harsh thrust was the only thing that warned you of his collapse, warm strings of thick come filling you up, making you moan in a higher pitch, your insides twitching against him, reaching another, smaller orgasm alongside his and your body gave out, trembling, shaking, exhausted, whining when he pulled out, cum slowly dripping out of you and onto your oversensitive thighs. He didn’t move you, instead putting his dick back into his boxers and zipping his pants back up, buckling his belt and letting you get up onto your shaking arms before wrapping his strong arms around you, his leather mask pressing onto your neck, so he could kiss it’s nape and you could swear you heard something similar to the words “I win” escape him, but he wouldn’t... Yeah, no, he would and you elbowed his belly weakly in protest, to which he rumbled a laughter, nuzzling into your hair, both of you covered in sweat.

Then again you felt your body being lifted and eased onto his shoulder, your hands shooting back to your skirt to cover your slightly exposed pussy as he carried you out of the room, grabbing one of the already prepared cookies off the counter and biting into it with a cocky smile.

“Tommy!” you heard Hoyt’s voice from the living room and you hoped he couldn’t see you, one of your hands covered however much of your face it could. “Ya done fucking over there, ya bastard?” The old man laughed and the embarrassment of being caught made your shake in Tommy’s grasp, even more so when he just.... NODDED. “Good! Get me some meat when you’re all cleaned up, boy! We need to get dinner started.” Hoyt replied and you died slightly inside, knowing damn well that you would not survive this evening, mentally.

It didn’t help that after the shower your body refused to function, protesting to the treatment your monstrous man has given it, so Tommy had to carry you down to the table, his chest just swelling with pride and you HATED IT.

Still, even with Hoyt’s rude remarks... It was worth it.

#Thomas Hewitt x reader #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #texas chainsaw massacre #tcm #tcm: the beginning #thomas hewitt #virgo writes #slasher #slashers #slasher community #This one???#This one my man.#This one is #Something #HOPE YOUR THIRSTY ASS IS HAPPY #you H O E #NASTY #NASTY PEOPLE

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soda-drabbles · 4 years ago

Text

Three’s a Crowd |EgoFlapBang

Request : ‘I've seen your plea for asks. Gimme Ego-Flap-Bang where Suzy joins for an episode of Game Grumps. Its a late night episode where they're all giggly n shit and she joined just because she happened to be around’ made by @optional-adventure

Pairing : EgoFlapBang (Arin x Suzy x Dan)

Type : Fluff

A/N : WOWWEE ,, holy moly I finally got this done! So sorry for the wait! I hope you enjoy!! :”)

The episode was suddenly interrupted from its usual playful commentary when a familiar female voice came through from the doorway of the grumps room. Immediately the faint voice was identified by Arin, who had turned back around and said, “Oh, hey, Suzy.”

“Sorry to interrupt but you guys forgot lunch. I didn’t want you two to come home hungry so I thought I’d bring you something.” Behind the recording, Suzy held tupperware that held a nice warm beef stew inside. “One of the guys can edit this out, right?”

Dan chuckled and sweetly smiled to her, looking much more thankful. “Thanks, Suzy.” He turned to Arin with a shrug. “I’m sure they could, right?”

Speaking of editing out, an idea found its way into Arin’s head. Whether it was good or genius was up to interpretation. “Actually, you wanna join us?” He asked, controller resting in his lap and eyes on her.

Suzy blinked lightly, “Join you?”

Dan’s smile widened and he nodded, “That’s a great idea!” He then flipped his hair back to look at Suzy, who looked back at him with a slightly unsure expression. “This couch is big enough for the three of us. Play some games with the boys.” His next resort was a soft pouty face, something that Suzy couldn’t resist. “Suuuzzzzyyyy.“

“Okay, alright!” She laughed, top fingers tapping at the Tupperware bowl. “I gotta put this somewhere first though. I’ll be right back.”

Dan fistpumped in triumph, absolutely more than eager to have Suzy joined the episode. By how pumped he was, anyone could tell that it was something he had been wanting for a while. Arin was also eager, though he was less expressive about it than Dan was. Dan was probably the more expressive out of the three of them.

Suzy returned soon enough, now huddled in between a little sandwich of her two lovers. It honestly felt sort of weird, sitting on the grumps couch like this after so long of not doing an episode of Steam Train. She had been focusing more on Psychic Circle in the past months and hadn’t had a time to just sit down for herself. Just being squished between her two lovers made her feel a little more relaxed though.

“Welcome back to...Gam-..Date-...something grumps.” Arin stumbled to find a correct intro for this special episode and ended up blurting, “Suzy’s here! And Dan.”

Dan snorted out sarcastically, “Best intro into any Game Grumps episode ever. Did you come up with that yourself?”

With a stifled snicker, Arin grinned and his smile twitched a little. “You’d be surprised.” A comment that both brought chuckles and giggles from Dan and Suzy. He returned back to the episode at hand. “Suzy’s here! Say hi.”

Suzy smiled, “Hey guys! Thanks for having me.” Honestly, Arin couldn’t help but watch her and just smile. She was just so beautiful, as cheesy as it was, he could watch her all day if he could.

As soon as the new game they’d picked out loaded, Dan was instantly turned off. The loading screen booted up to reveal a grim dark menu screen. The ‘Amnesia : The Dark Descent’ menu specifically. “Oh no. Nononono.”

Arin’s cocky voice was evident, no matter how innocent he tried to sound. “What’s wrong, Dan?” He asked, biting down on his bottom lip as to try not to laugh. It was getting more difficult to as Dan’s face went changed through expressions; Disbelief, Fear, Annoyance and the look that said “I’m gonna kill Arin Hanson”. Dan’s reactions to scary games were enough to entertain Arin, Suzy too evidently. She wasn’t too good when it came to hiding her smile or her laughs for that matter.

“You know exactly what’s wrong, you little shit.” Dan chuckled through his seething fear and playful anger.

Suzy laughed more. “Come on, Dan! It can’t be that scary.”

“Suzy. I love you but,” He eyed Arin as he said this. “Some things you gotta just say no to.”

“Look! It’s just a little game. What’s the worst that can happen? I’ll be right here with you, okay?” Suzy’s voice was soft and reassuring. A deep sigh left Dan as he was wondering what the hell he was getting himself into. He then sighed, defeated once again and being dragged into one of Arin’s specific ‘Dan Torture Episodes’. “Alright, but as soon as I see, like, anything, I’m leaving.”

Arin snickered beside them, his lip quivering from how he was holding it in. Dan noticed and shook his head.

“You cheeky bastard.”

Early in the game, Dan couldn’t help but get heavy goosebumps. His thumbs were fumbling with the controls and his breath hitched. He nearly had the attitude of a baby deer right now. Scared and cautious, yet ready to run for his life at any moment. Except, yknow, his life isn’t in danger really.

“I hope you feel this shit.” He mumbled meekly, “My balls are literally swallowed in my ass and my arms are as prickly as a cactus. I hope you feel that.”

“I felt it real good, dude. Felt it right in my soul dick.” Arin responded.

Suzy added, “Felt it in my soul tits too.”

“Please shut up, both of you.” Dan nervously laughed out.

The suspense was building up in the man handling the controller. His eyes were both glued to the screen and happened to be doing their best to avoid it as much as possible. With a latern that was barely lit now, Dan was pretty much walking through a certain corridor, one that looked too suspicious for its own good.

“I don’t like this. God, I don’t like this at all.” Dan groaned under his breath, realizing his mistake.

Arin, watching him with a sly smirk, chuckled. “It’s just a little corridor, man. Just keep going. You’ve been doing good so far.”

“I’m not listening to anything you say. Especially when you’re looking at me like that.” replied Dan, who was debating on actually listening to him. In moments like these, Arin was evil.

“Listen to me then.” Suzy intervened, “I’m sure it’s fine, Dan. Just a little creepy hallway down to a corridor. Nothing creepy.”

“Fuck, Suzy.” Dan sighed.

Eventually he went “fuck it” and took Arin’s advice of just heading down the totally-not-creepy-at-all corridor. He moved near and, when he did, the player’s perspective pulsed and a deep monstrous groan suddenly sounded through the screen. It was a deep gargly groan, a sound that Dan clearly did not like.

“Shitshitshitshit.” The quick cursing grew even quicker, as the hideous monster reared it’s ugly head from behind. A quick slash was all it took to startle him, what sounded like a fear ridden small shriek left him when he jumped. The controller was immediately tossed to the side and he hopped up to his feet. “Nope. I’m done. I’m done.”

Arin’s instantaneous laughter bellowed through the microphone. He held his stomach and threw his head back, unable to keep from laughing. “Wait- Dan!-” The laughing man coughed, shoulders still shaking from all the laughter he was trying to contain. “Come back!”

Suzy couldn’t help but laugh as well. Whether it was her husband’s contagious laughter or Dan’s impossibly hilarious response to a jump scare though was a different question. Dan eventually came back, “I’m not doing anymore of it man, I swear to god.”

Arin chuckled, practically wiping tears from his eyes. “It’s fine, I mean, we’ve been recording for like, twenty five minutes.”

“Twenty fi- excuse me? It felt like twenty five years in there!” Dan’s exclamation brought Arin to laugh again.

Suzy laughed, “It was kinda funny though.”

Dan scoffed playfully, “God, I can’t believe the two of you.”

“Aaaaannddd, next time on game grumps!” Arin finally concluded, his laughs dying down now.

Dan nodded, “Yep, I’m gonna beat the shit out of Arin.”

The three of them laughed again. Dan quickly added, “Thanks to the always lovely Suzy for joining us. We should do this kinda thing more often.”

Suzy chuckled softly, agreeing. “Yeah, it was really fun. I’m glad I could join you guys.”

The recording concluded afterwards and the three of them were now enjoying the newly heated beef stew. “God, this is good.” Dan said, enjoying the home cooked goodness.

Arin nodded, “Yeah, nothing beats getting scared shitless and having some good ol home cookin’.”

Dan rolled his eyes playfully, “I’m gonna get you back for that, just you wait man.”

Suzy laughed softly, shaking her head. “You both are ridiculous.”

Arin leaned back and sang with a grin, “but you love us though~”

She grinned softly to herself and walked over to the two, placing a soft kiss on each of their foreheads.

“I know.”

#shipgrumps #polygrumps #egobang #egoflapbang #fic #fanfic #drabble #fluff

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mirkwoodshewolf · 4 years ago

Text

Robin and Gale Hood; Ben Hardy x reader Chap. 4

*Author’s note*

After thinking about how in some versions of Robin Hood they expand more on the Merry Man and how Disney’s only version doesn’t (just has Robin hood and little John) so I’ve decided to rectify that and add more members of the Merry Men. Now these names are actually the names of other members (well except for one name I had along with keeping the original name) so here’s the final cast list of what I have in store for you all.

Cast list:

The Scotsman: Richard Madden

David of Doncaster: Jamie Bell

Gilbert Whitehand: Taron Egerton

Friar Tuck: Brian May (think early 1990′s Bri)

Chapter 4,

Sherwood forest

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@ixchel-9275

@simonedk

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@queensdivas

@queendeakyy

@wormzteef

@geek-and-proud

@queen-paladin

___________________________________________________

Gale Hood was riding along back to Sherwood forest to meet up with her brother and Little John, and along the way three more lovely chaps came riding up behind her and called out to her.

“Oi Gale!” cried out a handsome dark haired, blue eyed Scotsman riding a pure black stallion. She turned and smiled and said.

“I see you gentlemen have returned from your voyage. Tell me how were the other towns?” she asked the men.

“About the same as Nottingham is. I fear that if Prince John isn’t stopped he’ll suck the taxes out of not just Nottingham but all of England.” Said a young Welsh man with a tuff of brown hair riding a white horse.

“We’ll find a way Gilbert. One way or another. So how were the Sharpe’s Gale?” said the third gentleman with long shoulder length brown hair riding a brown horse.

“Veronica will soon be feeling better thanks to the medicine you helped me find David.”

Guess I should explain to you gentle readers. These three dashing young men are also apart of Robin and Gale’s Merry men. Sure there have been many tales of just Robin and Little John, but in this story we’re going to shed some light on some more members of the Hood sibling’s gang.

The Scotsman, well that’s really his name in the gang. He was wanted for such crimes back in his Scotland home, that he rid his real name forever and just went by ‘The Scot’. But every now and then he would be called ‘Kit’ by our gang of outlaws.

At first he wasn’t even permitted to join the group (mostly because the Scots and the English didn’t really like each other) less he bested Robin Hood in fair combat (to which he did).

The second chap on the white horse is known as Gilbert Whitehand. He is really the only person (besides Gale) that is up to Robin’s skill with a bow and arrow. He has a keen eye and it is said he can even shoot an arrow without even looking at the target.

He can be quick and rash at times, especially when it’s about protecting the poor people but when need to he can be reasoned with and is above all else loyal to a fault.

The third gentleman with the long brown hair is David of Doncaster. He’s more like the voice of reason of the band. Whenever tempers fly or someone’s about to get killed (and it has happened before on an occasion or ten) David is the one there to make the peace. He and Gale were especially close since they both had a similar experience on how their mother’s were killed when they were kids.

He’s also been her confidant (basically he’s her Little John in a way) especially when James left for London and she was heartbroken.

“That’s good.” There was silence through the air, an awkward silence. So much so that Gale stopped her khaki colored mare and turned towards the three men whose horses stopped and let out a few nickers and neighs at the sudden stop.

“I know what you three are thinking. And believe me I already know.”

“Know what?” asked David.

“Yeah we-we-we don’t know what you’re talking about.” Gilbert tried to play off.

“Don’t lie to me boys. I know that James and Marian are back.”

“What?!” they all faux out innocently. They then each began to say how they didn’t hear about it.

But one look from Gale and they broke down and all said that they knew and heard about it from the town’s over.

“You lot are so adorable.”

“Well it’s just that…..we look at you as our own little sister and well—when James left never did I want to beat the shit out of royalty before.” Gilbert said.

“Yeah and that would’ve gotten you a front row seat to the hangman’s noose.” David said.

“Look we know how happy he made you and—how miserable you were the first few months lassie. So we—but secretly we’ve been thinking that maybe with him back in Nottingham you both could……”

“I’ll stop you right there Kit. It’s been over 6 years since he left. And in that time with him being the next in line he’s destined to find a woman of royalty to marry and support an heir. There’s no future for us anymore.”

“Gale…….”

“You know as well as I do David. Besides he’s probably forgotten all about me.”

“If he had Gale, then why would he give you his family’s ring?” Gilbert asked. Gale clenched the ring around her neck into her fist.

“Robin and Little John are waiting for us. We can’t keep them waiting.” She urged her mare onward.

The three gents looked at one another sympathetically for their female leader but urged their horses onward.

When they got back to the entrance of Sherwood forest. Which lay right by a medium sized water fall. They got off their horses and took the saddles off before sending them off back into the woods.

One by one they walked across the stone-cobbled path that stood over the water before entering behind the waterfall and walked through a tight cave entrance.

And there in the middle of the vast extension of the forest was a campsite with laundry hanging to dry, a few tables and chairs, and a large fireplace surrounded by stones and rocks to keep the flames from spreading.

“YOU’RE BURNING THE FOOD!!” Little John’s voice exclaimed.

“Uh-oh. He’s at it again.” Kit muttered. The four of them walked around a large tree and there was Little John fanning a smoking pot with one of his newly washed clothes.

“Sorry Johnny. Guess I was thinking about Maid Marian again.” Robin said as he wiped his shirt of the soot and ash from the burned dinner. “I can’t help it……I love her John.”

“So you’ve heard too brother?” Gale’s voice soon spoke up. Robin and Little John turned and when they saw the rest of their gang and family arrive, Robin nodded.

“Yeah. And I assume you—”

“Please not—I don’t want to hear another word of it.”

“Look why don’t you two stop pining and moaning about just marry those two already will yah?” Little John said as he tried to cool down and save the burnt food.

“Marry them?!” the siblings exclaimed.

“You don’t just walk up to a girl, hand her a bouquet and say ‘hey remember me? We were kids together will you marry me?’ No. It just isn’t done that way.” Robin said as he mimed out his first statement before turning away solemnly and going to check the laundry.

“Oh c’mon Rob, climb the castle walls. Sweep her off her feet. Carry her off in style.” Gilbert said.

“It’s no use Gilbert, I’ve thought it all out and it just wouldn’t work. Besides what have I got to offer her?” Robin sighed.

“Well for one thing you can’t cook.” Little John said as he sniffed the food before trying to save the taste by dumping some water into it.

“I’m serious lads, she’s a high born lady of quality.”

“So the lass has class. So what?” Kit said.

“I’m an outlaw that’s what!” Robin shouted as he hung the shirt Little John used to fan the food back over a tree branch. “That’s no life for a lovely lady always on the run. What kind of future is that anyways?”

Gale looked at her brother solemnly before looking down at Prince James’ ring and clenched it in her palm.

“Oh for heaven’s sake son!” a voice suddenly cried out. Robin fell into the laundry basket and when he looked up he saw standing before him was the good Friar of Nottingham, Friar Tuck.

He was a middle aged man that stood about 6’2. Surprisingly for a Friar, he had wild curly dark hair. He was a kind hearted soul who not only gave his life into helping the poor people of Nottingham in this time of crisis, but he also was a father figure to our gang of outlaws.

In fact Robin and Gale’s mother had asked the Friar to watch over her two children before she died and he kept that word like it was the word of God.

“You and your sister aren’t outlaws. Why someday you both will be called great heroes.”

“A hero?” laughed Robin. “You hear that sister? We’ve just been pardoned.”

“Well that’s a gag. We hadn’t even been arrested yet.” Gale said releasing the ring from her grip. Friar Tuck walked up to her and gently ruffled her hair as he said.

“Alright laugh and doubt an old Friar you young rouges. But I swear to you there’s going to be a big to-do in Nottingham.” He then walked over to the stewpot, took the spoon that Little John was using and took a small sip of it.

Before anyone could have a chance to warn him that the stew was beyond repair, he started coughing and tears began to stream down his face.

“Well done ain’t it?” he croaked out. David quickly prepped a cup of water and handed it to the good Friar who took it and rinsed out the bad after taste of the burnt stew.

“You’re lucky your cooking didn’t kill him.” Gale hissed lowly to her brother.

“Like you’re any better at cooking than I am.” Robin sneered back.

“No need for arguments children.” Friar Tuck gently scolded as he cleared his throat.

“Sorry Friar.” The two rebels said solemnly like two children being caught doing something naughty.

“Anyway. I bring news from the minstrel.”

“Ahh. And what does ol Alan O’Dale sing about these days?” asked Gilbert as he perched up along his favorite tree branch.

“Tomorrow, Prince John is hosting a championship archery tournament.”

“Archery tournament. Ha! Robin, Gale and I could win that standing on our heads with our eyes closed.” Boasted Gilbert as he fiddled with one of his black tipped arrows and gave a wink at the siblings.

“Oh Gilbert you flatterer. But I’m sure we’re not invited.” Gale said.

“No. But there will be a couple people who’ll be disappointed if you don’t come.” Friar Tuck said as he took another sip of the water.

“Oh yeah. Like ol bushel britches the ‘honorable Sheriff of Nottingham’.” Little John mimicked the Sheriff’s deep monotoned voice.

“And of course let’s not forget the ruler of this land Prince John. ‘Mummy!’” Kit mimicked as he began to suck his thumb.

“No……Maid Marian and Prince James.”

“Marian?” Robin said in shock.

“And James?” Gale whispered in the same tone.

“Yes. The prize along with a golden arrow is that she’ll also be giving a kiss to the winner.” Friar Tuck winked at the rest of the band before softly chuckling.

“A kiss to the winner?” Robin gasped happily. “Oo-de-lally! C’mon you lot what are we waiting for!?” Robin cheered ecstatically.

“Wait a minute now Robin! What if this is a trap? You know how both Prince John and the Sheriff both want your head for different reasons. What if this is some plot to lure you out?” David warned.

“You underestimate me my dear David. Besides, faint hearts never won fair lady. So fear not my friend, this will be my greatest performance!”

“Where’s Gale?” Little John soon spoke up. As the six men looked around, they did notice that their only female rouge was in fact missing.

“I’ll go find her.” Robin said.

“Pardon me Robin, but allow me to go find your sister.” Friar Tuck offered. Robin, secretly knowing that his own sister probably didn’t want to talk to him, allowed Friar Tuck to go search for his sister.

Further down the trail that Friar Tuck used to enter Sherwood Forest, he found Gale sitting among a field of veronica flowers. Friar Tuck smiled solemnly and walked up towards her and said.

“It is said that the Veronica flower symbolizes fidelity and love. I even saw Prince James pick up a few of these flowers when he and Marian first arrived back to Nottingham. And I could tell that he was thinking of you.” Gale continued to look down at the flowers, fiddling with the purple buds within. “You doubt my words my dear?”

“No. I believe it.” She muttered. Friar Tuck looked at her with soft eyes. “Friar Tuck……was it my fault for loving him?”

“Love is not a fault. Nor is it a flaw.” She looked at him confused. He did sometimes like to talk in strange riddles and tongues and it sometimes did get annoying to her when he did that, especially to her. “I also seem to recall seeing the scar on his chin from when you first met and you knocked that rock against his handsome face.”

That at least got a smile out of Gale. A real smile to which the good Friar softly chuckled.

“Listen my child;” he placed his arm over her shoulders and the two looked at each other as he continued, “Love is a deep magic that is the most powerful thing the good Lord has given us. It helps us define right from wrong. And governs all of our destines. Yours, mine, your brother’s, as well as Marian and James.”

“But what if he’s forgotten about me?”

“If he had then he never would’ve come back with Marian.”

“And what about forgiveness?” she said sadly as she looked down, tears filling her eyes. Friar Tuck gently wiped a hidden tear from the corner of her eye and he said.

“My sweet Gale. I understand your fear about meeting James after what happened between the two of you. But I need you to also consider of what James has gone through. My good friend King Richard has told me of how depressed his son has become since that day.”

“You really think I should go see him, don’t you?” she asked after a long silence between the two of you.

“It’s not my place to tell you what you should or shouldn’t do. You are a mature, beautiful young woman. All I ask is that you make the choice that you won’t regret making.” He tucked a strand of her wild black hair behind her ear before placing his hand against her cheek.

She nuzzled against his warm palm before Friar Tuck placed his forehead against hers.

The two of them remained in that position. Gale Hood drawing strength and love from the good Friar who had been the only father figure she had ever known in her whole life.

He gave her a gentle and loving kiss to her forehead before standing back up and left her to return to the church. Gale looked down at the ring and unhooked the chain from her neck. She let it drop down to her palm and she looked down to admire the family crest.

The proud lion staring right into her very soul. As tears poured down her face, she placed the ring to her lips before finally for the first time in years, placing the ring back onto her left thumb (since it was the only finger it would fit on her).

When she returned back to her camp, her brother was the first to look up at her. The others soon followed and the men waited patiently for her to speak.

“Whatever you lot have hatched up—I want in.” Robin walked up to his sister and asked her.

“You sure?”

“I’ve been wallowing in self-pity and guilt for years. I—I want to finally clear my conscious and finally face my past head on.” Robin smiled at his little sister and pressed his forehead against hers, their noses grazing one another’s.

“I’m proud of you sister. We’ll get through this together.” Gale nodded and repeated.

“Together forever.”

“Never apart.” Robin whispered. He then came around to her side, slinging his arm over Gale and he said. “Gents, slight change to the plan now. We’ve got ourselves a new actor in our midst. Here’s what will happen now.”

Throughout the night, our band of rouges rehearsed and rehearsed their upcoming performance and this time both Robin and Gale would get the closure they needed.

Finally reuniting with their childhood lovers and hopefully rekindle the flames that they feared were long extinguished.

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iwantutobehapppier · 5 years ago

Text

So You Made Some Bad PSA’s

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

Summary: Steve’s continuing embarrassing behavior towards and about you deserved equal punishment right? Maybe showing Bucky the PSA’s Steve did a while ago wasn’t such a good idea. Super Soldiers never half-ass anything.

Warnings: Just cursing and some implied violence I guess? Pinning? Once saw something that said aggressively continues to ignore canon, yeah sames.

Word Count: 4,280

A/N: I was watching the Rappin With Cap videos on youtube and wondered how much crap Bucky would give Steve if he found out about them. I hope this is as funny of an idea as I thought it was. Tagging my lovely waifu @sagechanoafterdark who said she didn’t know she needed this until I brought it up. Hope you enjoy lovely.

"You need to calm down," Steve's snooty tone only fueled the flustered feelings he had brought. By now you were red from your chest to your ears with embarrassment. With a huff, you spun on your heels and left him dumbstruck.

"It's not that big of a deal!" He called out only digging himself deeper into the proverbial hole.

You had never been so embarrassed in your life!!

“Self-righteous asshat,” you grumbled making your way to the gym to blow off steam instead of slapping the aforementioned asshat. Who said things like that around mixed company? What that man lacked with tact he held a surplus of righteousness.

Shoving the gym doors open you missed how your entry caught Bucky’s attention, sitting up on the bench press.

When you made a straight shot to the punching bag muttering "Star-Spangled douche" Bucky's suspicion of your explosive entry into the gym was confirmed.

Watching you wrap your hands he lifted a brow picking up the soft "Captain No Ass America". He laid back down and returned to his nearly maxed barbell, decidedly steering clear from your unpleasant mood.

The gym would have been peaceful for Bucky’s much-needed energy-burning exercise except all he could focus on was your insistent mutterings coupled with the sound of air rushing from gloves as you hit the bag with all the weight of your body.

You were all consumed in imagining Steve’s stupid face on the bag were you fists landed that when Bucky called your name out you jumped back startled.

“What’s got ya’ so riled up little spitfire?” Bucky’s arms crossed over his chest as he watched you in amusement. There was a multitude of things his punk of a friend did this time to jostle you so much. He was never good with dames.

“Your friend has no tact,” Bucky could only nod in agreement. “He doesn’t think before he opens that stupid perfect mouth of his!” He ignored the perfect part but certainly cataloged it for future proof of the fact you two were into each other. Which is often the cause of these semi-occasional fits.

“Has no regard for how embarrassing he can be sometimes,” you drug the palm of your hand across your face in exhaustion of both Steve and the energy you exhumed on the punching bag.

“Ya’ know how to get back at him right?” You looked at Bucky from between your fingers with growing curiosity.

“Embarrass him,” he pulled his arms out far “And I mean BIG time.” Bucky continued on. “I’m talking ‘bout something that will last for a good while.”

“I love the punk, but he never learns unless he gets a taste of his own medicine.” Bucky knew that wouldn’t really resolve the situation if anything it’d make the tension between you two worse but he was willing and giddy to watch this escalate.

You stood there mulling his idea around in your head. What on earth could you do that would sufficiently and irrevocably embarrass Captain America? The man ran around in star-spangled leotard for years. What could possibly be more embarrassing than the less than flattering renditions of his uniform?

And then it hit you.

“Hey, Bucky?” You questioned with a saccharine voice most men should fear coming from a woman’s ire. Buck raised an eyebrow in question.

“You ever see the PSA’s Steve did?” Bucky’s eyes lit up with uncontained wonder.

~*~

Steve sat in the group kitchen eating one of the many grilled chicken breasts and vegetable platters you had prepared for him to reheat later. Debriefing for the next mission was in a few hours and he hadn’t seen you or Bucky all day. You tended to stay to yourself in the mornings but Bucky would normally meet him in the gym after Steve’s morning run.

But last night you and Bucky had been up late together. In your room. With the door closed. Not that Steve walked by or anything. He definitely didn’t walk by 5 times within one hour. No, not him.

Steve couldn’t figure out which was worse, the fact you were in your room late with Buck or the fact you two spent most the night laughing endlessly. Honestly, Steve was more than hurt that he wasn’t invited to whatever fun-filled evening you two had. He knew you were upset with him but normally you’d go to the gym or run around the lake on the compound grounds and come back later. He would apologize, not sure what most the time but he knew he felt bad for hurting your feelings.

If he was honest, and Steve Rogers prided himself on his honesty, he did like watching your ass bounce when you walked away, upset or not.

As if his thoughts manifested the two of you, you both walked in whispering and giggling.

“What are you two conspiring about?” Steve couldn’t help as one side of his lips lifted, he did enjoy seeing Bucky bonding with people and if it was with you even better. You were after all one of the sweetest people Steve knows.

You and Bucky stopped talking, looking at Steve in a way that made him squirm in his chair. Specifically, the disconcerting look Bucky directed at him.

“Steve, what would you say is the toughest enemy you ever faced?” Bucky’s question confused Steve more than he could say. What was he getting at? His tone sounded more rhetorical than inquisitive.

“Well Buck, I don’t know,” He answered. Bucky stroked his chin with his metal thumb and forefingers.

“Oh, you wouldn’t say its tooth decay?” He grinned back at his dear friend since childhood enjoying the torture he was going to surely bring upon him.

Fear, unrelenting fear and embarrassment struck Steve to his core. Suddenly the two of you laughing so much made sense. His face paled and eyes narrowed in on you, but the innocent face you played so well failed to hide what he knew happened.

“Please. Buck. No,” Bucky’s grin turned maniacal at the soft blush now growing on Steve’s cheeks. “Oh, Steve yes!”

Before Bucky could start back up Steve went on the defense.

“I thought it would be helpful, remember the PSA’s in the theatres?” Desperation for his friend to understand and drop this clear in his voice.

“Yeah, they were stupid you bozo and so are these.” Bucky turned his gaze to you leaned against the kitchen island watching the exchange between the two of them. This was solid gold, and only going to get better if Bucky’s words of encouragement earlier held any truth.

“I really need something to give me an edge for today’s debriefing.” Bucky began again. Steve could feel his face turn red with every passing moment. His best friend was never going to drop this.

“I know just what you mean Buck.” You chimed in, Steve turned his head down. Did you two find them together? Did you know about them and show them to Bucky?

“Can you make me a hot lunch Steve?” Bucky faced his good ol’ pal once more, rubbing his stomach for emphasis.

“Yeah, a well-balanced diet keeps your body healthy.” You rested your chin in the palm of your hand, eyes bouncing between the two Super Soldiers. Steve raised his head back up, his blank face directed at Bucky.

“Tell us about the food pyramid so we can find that balance we need,” Bucky could feel his cheeks start to hurt. The tortured look on Steve’s face while small was enough for him to pick up on and it was everything Bucky needed.

“Bucky please,” Steve lamented but Bucky would have none of it.

“Isn’t this like that stupid Bonds selling they had you do back in the war?” Buck accused.

“This was different, it was for the kids.” Bucky nodded his head,

“Right, right the kids,” Bucky paused “Did you even read it before they started filming?”

If Steve’s face could get any redder it would have. “Listen I didn’t totally understand it, but I was assured it was for the kids.” Before Steve could suffer any more embarrassment he abandoned his meal and the kitchen.

“Also why was it called ‘Rappin with Cap?” Bucky called out to Steve’s retreating figure. “Missed opportunity for Rappin’ with Cappin’. Who do I talk to get that updated?” Steve threw his hands up in exasperation continuing his retreat.

“Buzz off jerk!” He hollered back at Bucky.

“What would the kids think, Steve?!” You and Bucky laughed, your sides ached double time from the work out they got last night from all the laughing then.

“Ah that was good, he was definitely embarrassed.” You smiled at Bucky wiping some tears in the corner of your eyes. “Thanks, Bucky.”

“Oh, we’re far from finished.” You blanched, you suddenly felt precarious about the continued punishment. You knew Steve needed to learn the lesson, Bucky had assured you it would work. But you were losing confidence in continued torture as Steve’s face of embarrassment resurfaced in your mind.

“How long were you going to carry this on?” You muttered chewing on your bottom lip.

“I don’t know probably until it stops being funny.” His side grin did nothing to ease your worry about how much Steve would suffer through this.

“Which will be never.” Bucky chuckled going to the fridge for some lunch. “You want anything?”

~*~

Bucky sat across from Steve eyeing him during the customary post-mission group meal. Wanda sat next to him while Nat and Clint posted up at the end of the table. Bruce and Tony at the other end discussing the level of science others could barely understand.

You were finished loading up a plate of food about to find a spot on the large meeting table turned into the dining table when Bucky’s voice carried over loudly in the room.

“Ya know,” Bucky leaned back in his chair, the front legs lifting off the floor. “This mission went really well, we all followed the rules.”

Steve lifted an eyebrow at Bucky’s words trying to discern the trajectory of this out of character comment.

“Wouldn’t you say so, Steve?” Bucky looked at Steve biting the inside of his mouth to stop his smile. Steve jaw ticked, he understood now. Everyone at the table was looking between the two of them.

“Yeah Buck, the mission went well.” The blonde’s gritted out between clenched teeth.

“I mean the only way to be cool is to follow the rules. Right Cap?” Tony chortled at Bucky’s words quickly picking up on what was occurring. Of course Tony had seen the videos too.

“Steve, weren’t you a war criminal?” Bucky couldn’t hide his smile any longer, glancing at you then back to Steve causing the Blonde Soldier to look your way. You covered your smile with your free hand, holding your plate with the other.

“Bucky,” His tone anything but indulgent to Bucky’s antics.

“You must not be that cool, way to break ALL the rules, Cap.” Steve palmed his face with one hand and gave an exasperated breath.

You sat down next to Steve and began to eat just as Steve stood up. Taking his unfinished plate he began to leave the meeting room.

“Hey, punk!” Steve turned his head towards Bucky, everyone watching the exchange between the two Super Soldier brothers still.

“Since ya break so many rules,” Bucky paused “Know where I can get some illegal fireworks?”

“For fucks sake Bucky,” Steve walked out after that.

"Language!" Tony quipped, Steve’s shoulders sagged as he exited.

~*~

Three weeks. It had been three weeks since you unknowingly unleashed Bucky hell on Steve.

Sure the two of them picked on each other and often lead to heated words but it would always dissipate with ease. This was a whole other level.

Maybe, if there hadn’t been SO MANY videos for Bucky to antagonize his best mate with it would have stopped by now. As it where Steve did more PSA’s than he remembered and every time Bucky had the chance, he brought them up. In subtle and not so subtle ways.

Steve’s face was either red with embarrassment or rage when Bucky was in the room. Most times he stomped out, others Bucky left laughing the whole way out of the room.

You had been staying out of it, for the most part, being a bystander like the rest of the Avengers. Unlike the rest of the avengers though, you were always left with this rock in the pit of your stomach knowing you were solely responsible.

Entering the debrief room you noticed everyone was there assigned to the upcoming mission except your righteous leader, Steve.

“Anyone know where Steve is?” You voiced your concern, he was never late to debriefing in the entire time you’d been an Avenger. FRIDAY answered before anyone else in the room could address.

"I've been advised to inform you that Captain Rogers will not be attending any meetings that include Sergeant Barnes until he refrains from goading Captain.” As the AI spoke your eyes cut to Bucky with a pleading look.

This had to stop.

Walking right out of the room you made a beeline for Steve’s office, the Winter Soldier hot on your trail. When Bucky’s hand made to open the door to Steve’s office you swatted at it glaring up at him as you knocked on the solid door. Bucky rolled his eyes at your etiquette.

“Come in,” Steve paused, “Unless it’s Bucky.” he continued. You stuck your tongue out at Bucky before entering the room and shutting it behind you and locking.

Steve looked up raising an eyebrow at the locking, his face a little flush at the potential implication.

“Bucky,” You explained and he nodded face sullen.

“I wanted to apologize Steve.” You started and he raised his hand up to stop you but you ignored him.

“Had I known how far and long Bucky would take this I would have shown him maybe only one or two videos.” Steve frowned. “Definitely not all of them.”

“Well thank you for that apology,” His deadpan delivery less than stellar for the rock still sitting in your stomach. He stood up and reached past you to unlock the door. You couldn’t help but breathe in his cologne and the smell that was uniquely him.

With Bucky and Steve avoiding each other leading to Steve avoiding you, you had almost forgotten how wonderful he smelt. You also had not been on the receiving end of his embarrassing lack of tact with the subsequent avoidance but you had forgotten that too at the moment.

“I really am sorry,” You muttered out, Steve stalled opening the door at the remorse in your voice. He said your name with a sigh, his breath fanning against your face your body hair breaths away, his hand lingering on the door handle. The warmth of his body could be felt even through your clothing.

This sensation was a reminder of all the times you two would spar, trying hard to ignore how well he felt against you, instead of focusing on winning a match against the perfect soldier. You had to ignore it, after all, he was your Captain, and you were just you.

“I know you are, but you did it none the less.” The finality in his words made it clear your apology was not accepted and you really couldn’t blame him with how far Bucky had taken this.

Finally opening the door Steve’s eyes narrowed in what could only be described as a death glare to the chaotic soldier behind you.

“Bucky,” you turned around as Steve addressed him as you made your way out of the room.

“Steve,” Bucky mimicked the serious tone Steve gave, only his face held that Cheshire cat smile unlike Steve’s.

Before either of them could startup you attempted to mediate. “Come on Soldiers, we’ve got a debriefing to attend.” Grabbing Bucky by his metal arm you tugged him along, fearing rejection from Steve if you attempted the same.

~*~

Bucky had been away on a mission with Natasha for the past month and Steve had enjoyed the much-needed reprieve from his friend’s torture. He was hoping the passing of time would wear off the novelty of teasing. Steve ever the optimist.

Bucky was catching up with you in the hall after finishing his debriefing jokingly scolding you for not carrying on his torture.

“Come on, he’s almost learned his lesson.” Bucky elbowed your arm smirking at you.

“I don’t think this is a lesson by fire situation anymore. Maybe it never was going to work leaving you to deal out the punishment.” You folded your arms over your chest settling your narrowed eyes on the brown-haired chaotic neutral incarnate.

“It’s all in good fun,” Bucky justified, knowing full well he was pushing his luck with Steve. He was sick of Steve’s silence regarding his feelings for you and if he could punish him for the mounting sexual tension he had to suffer between the two of you then he’d deal it out on the regular.

Steve caught the sight of the two of you and couldn’t help the small smile that pulled at his lips when you flagged him over.

“Hey Steve,” you greeted his dopey smile contagious. Steve nodded his head towards you before looking at his friend.

“How was it, Buck?” He inquired and Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Come on man you can read it in the reports you make me fill out,” Steve returned the eye roll.

“Are you joining Bucky and me for movie night?” You inquired with hope towards Steve, wanting to prevent any escalation between the two as well. Maybe a peaceful movie night would help the damage you did with those videos.

Steve scratched the back of his head starting to stumble on his words. Bucky couldn’t stop himself, well he’s sure he could but why would he when his friend was starting to make a fool of himself.

“Do you feel an itch, Steve?” Steve’s hand froze at Bucky’s words. His face falling at this line of conversation. Couldn’t he just leave well enough alone?

“I hate you so much Buck,” Bucky’s Cheshire cat smile returned with a vengeance, your brows rising in confusion. What was? No Bucky wasn’t doing it again?!

“You could have lice,” Bucky’s tone a face concern.

“Bucky stop,” Steve’s tone dangerously calm.

“Stand up and be a hero Steve.” Before Bucky could start his signature peals of laughter at his friend’s embarrassment, he blew up.

“That’s enough!” Steve’s face turning red. This was the limit, apparently. He pointed at Bucky then swung the accusatory finger towards you, “I don’t know what I did to deserve the two of you ganging up on me like this.”

“Com’on Steve this isn’t on her,” Bucky interjected, wanted to take the heat off you. His plan wasn’t going to work if Steve lumped you in with his anger. “I was gonna find those videos eventually,” Bucky went to your defense but it was unnecessary as the dope had hit a nerve.

“You don’t know what you did to deserve this?!” Steve was incredulous. How could he be so daft to his actions?!

“You say the dumbest things to me.” Your hands gestured around wildly “And in front of me about me at the worst times!” You took a step towards Steve whose fire was being dampened by your growing temper. “Embarrassing the crap out of me in front of staff or even the team!”

You nearly blew a gasket at how bewildered Steve appeared. “I didn’t know I did that.”

“Of course you didn’t,” His eyes narrowed at your growing condescension. “Because you don’t pay attention to how your words affect others!”

Bucky watched the two of you with what was at first amusement but rapidly turning to worry when Steve squared his shoulders. You both had tempers known to be nuclear when opposing.

“Don’t pay attention?!” Steve threw his hands up in the air, the loud clap sound of them falling to his sides at his words make you flinch. “All I do is give you my undivided attention.” His gaze levels on you, both of you oblivious to your audience.

“For years.” Steve’s voice strained, trying to express what he longed to say without actually having to put himself out there.

“Wait, what?” You shook your head now you the one befuddled between the two of you, his words washing away your indignation.

“Where has that gotten me huh?” Your confusion only fueled Steve. Of course, you don’t understand what he was trying to say. Steve was pas the point of reasoning now.

“My best friend seeing some of the most ridiculous things I did freshly out of the ice,” his eyes darting between the two of you, “And you two exploiting it!” Taking a deep breath closing his eyes Steve tried to calm the storm inside him.

You took a step away clutching your chest at the venom he spewed. How fast a playful way to take self-righteous Steve Rogers down a few pegs put you on the top of his shit list.

“Steve-” You started only to stop and try again. “I-” Steve’s eyes snapped open narrowing on you fumbling your words, hands wringing in front of you.

“JUST STOP!” You let out a soft yelp at the volume his voice hit. “You’ve done enough don’t you think?!”

You wanted to defend yourself but thought better of it. Nodding your head you walked off with short paced steps to escape.

Steve watched your retreating figure, face softening with each step you took. He went to follow you but stopped himself. He had made enough of a mess. Looking at Bucky he groaned at the disappointment written all over his face.

Without another word, he left Bucky alone in the hall seeking solace from his embarrassing temper tantrum.

~*~

Bucky entered Steve’s office without knocking, he assumed if Steve truly didn’t want to be bothered he could have easily locked the door or had FRIDAY bar anyone from entering.

Steve sat with his head in his hands, taking in deep breaths trying to find some kind of solution to the problem that ever was you.

“So you acted like an idiot because you don’t know how to talk to women?” Steve looked up at Bucky’s words and held back the desire to flip his desk right at him. Bucky had turned the chair across from his desk around and was straddling it facing him. Arms crossed over the top of the backing. Just like he did in those stupid videos. Videos you had watched countless times by now.

“Buck,” Steve’s strained voice conveying enough to Bucky but not enough to get him to sit properly in the chair. “Please leave it alone.”

“Listen, man, I’m serious. You suck at women.”

“Gee, thanks, bud.” Steve looked down at his desk in defeat.

“You’re welcome.” Bucky knocked on the table. “Now what are you going to do to fix this?” Steve scoffed raising his head up to face his longest friend.

“Why do I have to fix it?”

“Because you yelled at her,” his words full of disbelief, Bucky was almost in awe at Steve’s inability to at least learn a few things about women without him around to get him a pity date.

“If she hadn’t-” Bucky raised a hand to get Steve to stop before he even started.

“Lemme’ stop you right there punk,” Steve’s deadpan stare did nothing to stop him. “You and I both know this is way beyond me picking on you about some PSA’s.”

“I think its got a lot-”

“Just because you’re all buff doesn’t mean I won’t kick your ass if you don’t shut up,” Bucky flexed his metal arm, the whirling of metal cogs warming up filled the office, clearly, he was intending to make good on his threat.

“Fine,” Steve was done fighting for the day. “What’s this about then?” His arm gesturing across his desk for Bucky to continue sans interruption.

“You love her,” Buck was impressed at how quick Steve’s face reddened.

“You hate that she’s been spending all this time with me,” Steve went to argue before he could get a word in Bucky raised an eyebrow rolling his left shoulder back.

“My silence doesn’t mean agreement.” Steve just didn’t want his office wrecked or the rant Tony would give him for the cost of repairs.

Bucky huffed rolling his eyes, “Man, what does she even see in you?”

“What?”

“Come on, you two can’t be this oblivious?” Buck leaned forward pushing until the chair only had two legs on the ground and he was leaning over Steve’s desk keeping eye contact.

“You two are hopelessly into each other,” Steve sat up straight shaking his head in disbelief. “It’s sickening really,” Bucky leaned back the chair slamming back to the ground and groaning at the abuse.

“How can you tell, are you sure she likes me?” Steve’s words jumbled in his mouth

“Don’t do that thing, bozo,” Bucky crossed his arms in front of his chest “Where you act all ‘oh she likes me’” He pulled his metal hand out and pointed at Steve, “Just go get her.”

Steve stood up with gust and left his office with the same level of energy.

Bucky stuck his head out the office door threshold.

“Don’t skim on the human reproduction lessons!” Steve chose to ignore his friend’s taunt, determination written on his face. He’d spent plenty of time thinking and talking about all of this. It was time for action.

#steve x reader #Bucky Barnes #james buchanan barnes #Steve Rogers #bucky gotta give steve crap #wouldn't you #come on steve #mcu #marvel #captain america #Winter Soldier #captain america x reader #but really its about Bucky terrorizing his ol pal #fanfic

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ampmiscfiles · 4 years ago

Text

To Us You’re Worth Everything Chapter 8: Progress and Pain

Warning: Torture. The part is noted.

Pairings: Wanda/Peter, Pietro/Peter, Tony/Pepper

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kathy groaned as she cracked her eyes open. Her cheek was pressed against the rough carpet and her head was pounding.

"Kent?" she croaked out, moving to sit up.

She froze when she realized she couldn't move her arms. Glancing down, she was surprised to find they weren't bound, but she was unable to make them move.

"It's a very mild paralysis." a female voice spoke from behind her. "Don't bother trying to move. Other than being able to speak, you're no longer in control."

"What do you want?" Kathy asked, panic creeping into her voice.

"Don't you worry. As soon as good 'ole Kent comes around, we'll be glad to fill you in." Another voice, male this time, answered.

Kathy lay, completely immobile on the ground and at the mercy of whoever had broken into her home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I can't believe you were going to keep this from me." Pepper fumed, looking over the evidence Natasha and Clint had provided.

"I didn't want to worry you. Peter and the twins will never know about this. I'm going to have Friday filtering the news. We've got enough here in that folder to put them away. It's enough that we don't even have to put Peter in the position to make a case against them for the abuse. I don't know if the kid could handle it, honestly." Tony said, watching Pepper's keen eyes taking in everything.

She had come to collect everyone after she and Sam had finished making lunch. The twins had been happy to pull Peter out the office, eager to make sure he had a good meal. Their departure had led to Pepper noticing the large file on his desk and catching sight of a picture of a bruised young woman sticking out.

"Tony, they'll want to question him about his treatment in the house. Whether they abused him or not, he was living there." Pepper sighed, looking up. "Maybe we should have planned this out better. It's going to be hard to push through an adoption with this hanging over it. These are serious charges and Peter will be tied up in the middle."

"Well, I already have my lawyers filing the paperwork for Peter's adoption, so it'll be noted the process was started before the charges were filed. That's going to be in our favor."

"Or look suspicious." Pepper said, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, there's no proof we knew anything when the adoption process started." Tony shrugged with a grin. "No one's handed any evidence over to the police yet. We've got the rest of the day. We let the paperwork sit for a bit, then we drop the bomb. To be perfectly honest, and as bad as it sounds, the police will put Peter on the backburner while they take those pieces of human garbage in. They'll know where he's at and that will be good enough until they can make other arrangements."

"Who's turning this evidence in?" Pepper asked, her eyes narrowed as Tony looked at her innocently.

"You'd never believe it, Pep! Some responsible, blonde haired woman dropped off a folder at the station anonymously, then got into the passenger side of a blue car before leaving."

The two stared at each other before Tony's phone pinged. Turing his eyes to his phone, he chuckled.

"That SHIELD. So pushy. Always wanting to issue mandatory car repaints to keep them looking nice."

"Let me guess, that old blue car buried in the back of the garage needs an upgrade."

"That's why I leave the decorating to you, Pep. You always know what doesn't look good."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peter was ushered into the kitchen and to the bar as Wanda flittered around, making sure to fill Peter's plate with extra pasta. Peter watched her, taking in her fluid movements and smile as she turned to look at him.

"Eat up." she said, placing the plate in front of him.

"What about mine?" Pietro pouted.

"You can make your own." she grinned before sticking her tongue out at him.

"Harsh."

"You'll live."

Peter felt a warmth inside him as he watched his soulmates bicker good naturedly. He shouldn't be allowing himself to get attached to the feeling, it wasn't going to be around much longer.

"Must be good, hu Pete?"

Peter looked up at Pietro slid onto the stool next to him, motioning to Peter's already half finished plate.

"Uh, yeah. It is."

"Finish that plate and I'll get you some more." Wanda smiled, leaning on the counter.

Peter nodded, looking back down at his plate. No one had ever encouraged him to eat and then promise to give him more. He was so used to experiencing the opposite that he really wasn't sure what to think. Was she being serious? Could he really have more? He couldn't remember the last time he was really and truly full.

"So, do you have any friends?" Pietro asked, shoveling another forkful into his mouth.

"You're an atrocious eater." Wanda crinkled her nose.

Pietro grinned around his mouthful of pasta.

"Anyway, do you? We'd love to meet them."

"Um......no." Peter answered, his voice quiet. "I....I don't have any."

There was silence for a moment as Peter moved some food around his plate.

"Any hobbies?" Pietro asked, quick to move on.

"Not....not really. I don't.....I don't....I've never really had a chance to get any."

"What made you want to be Spider-Man?"

"My.....my aunt and uncle were....were killed by a robber. I....I wasn't able to save them."

This was turning into a disaster!

"Um.....what's it like being an Avenger?" Peter asked, unsure why he was choosing to get invested.

"It's pretty exciting-"

"But also boring!" Pietro huffed, cutting his twin off. "There are times we're just sitting around for weeks! You see way more action than we do."

"Some times it's pretty quiet. Maybe helping old ladies across the street, or getting cats out of trees, maybe help a lost child find their parents."

"That's still more than us, and those things are just as important!" Wanda smiled widely. "Especially the children. I know it's scary for them."

"Yeah....I, I like doing it."

He did. It was hard sometimes, but those kids deserved to go home. It was always obvious he had done the right thing when he saw grateful moms and dads hug and kiss and cuddle their once lost child. The parents were always quick to thank him and some even gave him hugs as well. Based on the reactions, he must have been returning home some really good kids.

"What about school?" Pietro asked, moving to refill his own plate. "Favorite subject?"

"I like science class."

"I was always best at gym."

"I loved literature." Wanda answered happily. "Any favorite books?"

"I...I like The Hobbit. Uncle..." Peter paused, taking a deep breath and pushing back tears. "My Uncle Ben read it to me. It was the last book we read before....before he passed away. Aunt May read it to me again...."

Before she died.

Maybe he shouldn't like it. Maybe he should never read it again. He surely shouldn't let anyone he thought was a good person read it. If they were in any way connected to him, it was an automatic death sentence apparently.

"Do...do you have a favorite book?"

"I don't think I could name just one honestly."

"She's such a book nerd. You should see her shelves. Books are practically falling off the shelves."

Peter did want to see them.

"At least I can read." Wanda rolled her eyes.

"I'm so hurt." Pietro mocked her.

~~~~~~~Torture Begins~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kent groaned, his head was killing him and his body felt heavy.

"Ka-Kathy...." he called out. "What the hell did we-"

He cut off as it finally sunk in that he couldn't move. He could feel the cuffs chaffing his wrists.

"What the hell is this?" he shouted, looking over to see Kathy's tear stained face looking at him.

"Kent! I don't know what's happening!"

"And that just sucks doesn't it?" A males voice spoke from out of their eyesight.

"Who are you?" Kent growled, trying to move to see who was talking.

"Does it matter? I didn't think names were a big deal to you. They sure didn't matter to all those girls and boys you handed over to nameless creeps." A female answered.

Kathy paled as she whimpered.

"Wha...what are you talking about?"

"Oh, I think you know exactly what we're talking about." The male again.

"No we do-" Kent grunted as he was cut off by a swift kick in the back by a stiletto heel.

"I'd think very carefully about what you say." The female warned. "I can assure you that I'm in no playing mood, but my friend is in even less of one."

"We haven't done anything!" Kathy cried, wiggling before being yanked back by her hair to look into the face of a man with long dark hair and blue eyes.

"Oh, I'm gonna have fun with you. Liars make the job even better. It's going to be so sweet to hear you beg." The man grinned, a sadistic glint in his eyes.

"Let her go!" Kent yelled, glaring at the man.

"No one told you to speak, dog!"

Kent choked as he was pulled up and a ball gag was shoved into his mouth and tightened.

"You should be pretty comfortable in this, shouldn't you?"

The woman moved in front of him. Her blonde hair was tied up in a braid and her green eyes were hard and unforgiving.

"How do you want to do this? Should we show them the picture of their victims before each strike, or all at once?"

The man threw a folder down on the floor.

"Let's spread them. They can look at the faces of the children who lives they destroyed."

The woman quickly laid out all the pictures so that every face was clearly visible.

"These faces are going to be burned into your memory by the time we're done with you."

Kent tried to speak around his gag as he glared at the two intruders.

"Did you not hear me the first time, little pony?"

Kent froze as the woman sneered with glee at him.

"Should I get you a nice little tail? Maybe a saddle?"

"Oh, I bet he's be much more comfortable in his costume." The man laughed.

Kathy looked between the man and woman and Kent.

"Oh, that's right, you don't know about your dear Kent's after hours office fun." The man yanked her hard by her hair again.

"He makes such a good pony." The woman cooed. "Letting his boss ride him around the office. Getting spanked by a riding crop and getting plugged in more ways than one.. Your husbands not as loyal as you'd like to think."

"K-Kent?"

Kent tried to speak around his gag before the woman's hand came down across his face, hard.

"Again, no one told you to speak!"

"Here's how it's going to go." The man started gleefully. "We're going to make you feel the same way you made all your foster kids feel. By the time we're done, you'll be begging for jail."

"You can't do-" Kathy cried out as she was flung to the side by her hair, thick chunks left in the man's hand.

"Gross. You left your disgusting hair behind. It could use a wash." The man scoffed, throwing the hair down and wiping his hand on his pants. "Pure trash."

"Maybe we should shave her. Then we can just solve the problem completely."

Kathy gasped as the woman walked to a bag and pulled out an electric shaver. The man raised an eyebrow as the blonde walked backed to them.

"What? One should always be prepared for anything." She smiled, walking over to Kathy's prone form. "Now, let's see how nice a head shape you have."

"No! Please!" Kathy pleaded as the woman shoved her face into the floor.

She could feel and hear the buzz of the razor as it drug across her head. She could see the strands falling around her and a coolness to her skin.

"Just as I suspected. Your head shape is hideous."

Kent screamed around the gag in his mouth, only to grunt as the long haired man kicked him in the chin, sending his head snapping back.

"You know what, Ro?" The man asked, looking over at the blonde.

"What?"

"Kentty here has a pretty set of teeth behind this gag. Maybe we should relieve him of them."

"I think you're on to something. Let me finish up with our friend Kat and I'll give you a hand."

The blonde gave Kathy's face one more good shove into the floor as she finished up for cut.

"Ugly inside and out, arn't you?" she whispered into Kathy's ear.

"Wow, you really did come prepared." The man laughed as he pulled a pair of pliers out the bag and turned back to Kent.

"If you weren't going to jail, your boss would have been very happy without your teeth to worry about."

"What...what are you talking about?" Kathy's small voice called from the floor.

"Your husband has been having a nice time with his boss. So nice in fact, they had been secreted away a nice little stash of money to disappear together."

The woman laughed heartlessly at Kathy's stunned expression.

"How does it feel to be disgusting and worthless, Kathy?"

Kathy didn't respond as she looked at the man that was her husband. Tears swelled in her eyes.

"No time for water works now," The man tisked. "You're way to late for sympathy. Now, let's see those chopper's, Kentty Boy."

Kent gasped as the gag was loosened and toss to the side.

"You're going to regret this!" he shouted.

"Oh? You seem awfully sure about that. Tell me, Kent, who's going to save you? We have an abundance of proof as to your involvement in embezzlement as well as your little side job of forcing foster kids into prostitution and slave trade. The boys in prison are gonna love you."

"How would you like to do this?" The woman asked, moving to look down at Kent. "Personally, I'd prefer it to be as painful as possible. Really make him bleed."

"I love the way you think."

"I'm not just gonna-" Kent grunted as the woman's shoe hit his chest, knocking him back to the floor.

"Open wide little pony."

Kent's eyes widened as the woman shoved a leather strap in his mouth and behind his teeth, pulling it tight and pressing down harshly. The strap chaffed against his skin as the woman continued to press down.

"I'm going to enjoy this."

Kent tried to struggle against his binds but found it useless as the pliers entered his mouth, latching on to his front tooth. The man grinned widely before yanking down fast and hard.

The tooth flew out of Kent's mouth in a bloody mess as he tried to scream around the strap in his mouth.

"Look at it this way, you'll either go numb or pass out before he's finished."

The man chuckled darkly before diving back in.

Kathy watched in horror as blood poured out of Kent's mouth. His teeth gathered in a small pile. His cries had tapered off to whimpers, then stopped completely as he went limp.

"Passed out first." The woman noted as the last tooth was pulled.

"Damn. I really wanted him to make it all the way through." The man grunted.

"We still have her."

The two turned simultaneously to look at Kathy, who had started crying again.

"You poor thing."

Kathy flinched as the blonde woman ran her sharp nails down her face.

"You're so innocent arn't you. You don't deserve this, do you?"

Kathy looked between the two, her lip quivering.

"Do you think they deserved what they got?" The man asked, pointing to the pictures. "Do you?"

"N-no." Kathy whispered before she was punched across the cheek.

"I couldn't hear you, you piece of shit!"

"No!" Kathy screamed.

"Look at her tears!" The woman grinned. "Arn't they pretty?"

"Very. I want to see more."

"Sit her up. I want to see the hands that have inflicted pain on those children."

The man nodded, lifting Kathy up so her bound hands were visible behind her back.

"Look at these long and slender fingers. These are piano player fingers. It would be a shame for something to happen to them."

Kathy screamed out as her pinky finger snapped.

"I don't think a finger is supposed to look like that." The man laughed.

"I don't think this one is either."

Another snap and a scream.

"I don't think its a good look for only a few to look that way. She's needs a matching set of ten."

"I agree." The woman nodded, setting to break the rest of Kathy's fingers.

"You better not pass out like your bastard husband over there. I'd be tempted to pull out all your teeth as well."

Kathy was gasping heavily as the woman moved from behind her after finishing her fingers.

"Hmm....I don't think they've learned their lessons though, B."

"I don't either, Ro. I think I have an idea though."

"Really? What's that?"

"Well, the way I see it, their victims couldn't run so I don't think they should be able to either."

Kathy watched through watery eyes as the man, B, rummaged through the bag again, pulling out a steel bat.

"Maybe some busted knee caps?"

"I think thats fine for Kent, but this one needs something different. You know, I've always been a fan of the book, Misery." A wicked grin spread across the pretty woman's face.

"I'm gonna go see if there's anything to help me reenact the ankle breaking scene. Don't start the fun without me."

"Wouldn't dream of it!"

The man took a few practice swings with the bat before the woman returned with one of the conder blocks they had sitting outside the back door.

For the first time ever, Kathy wondered why they even had it.

The woman loosened the binds on her feet just enough to separate them and fit the block between them.

"Who goes first?" The man asked.

"Rock, paper, scissors?" the woman shurgged, as though the pain they were inflicting was a game.

"Rock, paper, scissors shoot!"

"Looks like you're up first Kitty Kat."

The two laughed darkly as the woman took the bat from her accomplice and stood over Kathy's feet.

"This won't hurt....." she tappered off as she swung the bat down hard.

The sound of bone shattering and screams of agony rang through the house.

"Guess I lied."

The man laughed as the woman got in position to repeat the action on the other ankle.

Kathy passed out.

"They're really no fun." Clint sighed.

"Smash his knee caps. They've made a lot of noise so we need to move out soon and drop off that paperwork." Natasha said, picking up the folder and placing the pictures back inside.

"With pleasure." Clint grinned, bringing the bat up and swinging down.

~~~~~~Scene Ends~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pepper smiled as she walked into the kitchen, finding Peter and the twins making small talk.

It wasn't anything deep, but it was better than nothing.

"So, I was thinking we could all move into the common area and watch a movie. Relax a little after everything?"

Wanda and Pietro looked up at her gratefully. They felt like they had made some progress with Peter, and were eager to keep him in a mood that could provoke more talking.

"That sounds great!" Wanda smiled. "Peter?"

Peter winced as the three turned to look at him.

"Y-yeah. That sounds ok."

"Wonderful!" Pepper said, clapping her hands together. "Let's see who else we can get to join us."

Peter swallowed hard as he followed them to the common area. There were couches and chairs all set up to face the large TV in the room.

He didn't know where he should sit. He knew where he wanted to sit, but he knew he had already given away more than he should already.

He could feel the attachment growing.

It made him feel sick.

He watched as Wanda and Pietro settled in on the couch, both looking at him imploring.

Peter couldn't bring himself to sit with them, instead he rushed to sit down in one of the overstuffed chairs.

The twins faces fell, but Pepper gave them a comforting look. Peter needed his space. They had made a dent in his armor, he needed time.

Accepting Pepper reassuring look, the two tried to pretend it didn't upset them that Peter had chosen not to sit with them.

"FRIDAY," Pepper called. "Please let everyone know we'll be watching a movie in the common room if they'd like to join us."

"Ms. Romanoff and Mr. Barton are currently off site. Captain Rogers, Mr. Wilson, and Boss are on their way."

"So, why don't you pick what we watch, Peter."

Peter's head shot up to look at Pepper with wide eyes. He never got to pick a movie. Everyone was better for it anyway. He never picked good movies. That was why he never got to.

"I...I don't know any good movies." Peter said, lowering his head. "I'm...I'm not good at picking them out."

Pepper frowned as Peter brought his legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them.

"Well, I think you'd do a great job." she said, nodding her head.

"I really don't.....I don't think I should, Ms. Potts."

"Please, call me Pepper."

Peter glanced over at her quickly before lowering his eyes.

"Just....just let someone else pick. They'll do a good job."

Pepper shared a look with the twins before taking a breath and looking at Peter's miserable form.

"It's ok, Peter." Pepper soothed. "I'm sure it's just your nerves. This has been a lot for you to take in today. You can pick next time."

Peter nodded, already knowing there wasn't going to be a next time.

#TUYWE #To Us You're Worth Everything #Peter Parker/Wanda Maximoff #Peter Parker/Pietro Maximoff #Tony Stark/Pepper Potts #Avengers #Spider-Man

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cinnaminsvga · 5 years ago

Text

fox rain | three

→ summary: When the love letter you wrote and submitted as an assignment is leaked to the entirety of your university, it becomes a race against time to dispel rumours and convince the seven suspected muses of the poem that they aren’t the subject before anyone realises that you are the author. Easy, right? Well… maybe not as easy as you think.

→ pairing: bts x reader (feat. namjoon) → genre: college!au, crack, fluff, angst → warnings: none unless you count overly graphic descriptions of how stupid namjoon is (oh and like... ant gambling rings??) → words: 15.7K → a/n: this is late by a month and my whole life is a joke. i hope this makes you laugh bc i made namjoon extra dumb for y’all (for no extra charge. suck it, chipotle.) also: check bio for other chapter links for now!

— • masterlist | prev | three | next • —

“This can’t be my fucking life. Can it?” you say to your own reflection, curtains of despair dripping from every inch of your visage. Your reflection stares back, the same dead eyes twitching imperceptibly from the lack of caffeine in your system. At this point, you wouldn’t be sane enough to be surprised if your parallel self would reply, perhaps with some scathing remark about how you were slowly losing your grip on your life. Not that it would be unwarranted, anyway.

After Hoseok’s explosion the other day, your weekend doesn’t exactly feel as exciting as it usually is. Of course, your mood is still a vast improvement from last week when you were out of commission for most it after your mental breakdown. Although, it doesn’t erase the fact that you’re still knee deep in shit and that you have no idea how you’re going to face Hoseok and Jimin the following Monday.

Damn. You could really use some coffee.

The day seems to be in much better spirits than you, and it would be a waste not to let the universe’s good mood try to make you feel better as well. There is a coffee shop just a block away, and maybe you could take a walk in the sunshine afterwards to help relax the dread consistently knocking at the back of your mind. It’s a little bit optimistic, but it’ll have to do.

Shrugging on a thin cardigan over some other semi-decent clothes, you step out of your stuffy apartment with a spring in your step. You didn’t bother with any of your usual morning ritual, seeing as how you don’t plan on meeting with anyone you know from university anyway. So what if your landlady Mrs. Park sees the bird’s nest on top of your head? Who is she going to tell? Her gang of old auntie friends all hate you already for wearing a “TRANS RIGHTS” shirt in front of them, so it’s not like you’re vying for their acceptance.

Other than your less than friendly neighborhood aunties, there are better old people to hang around anyway. Nearby the coffee shop, there is a senior home where you used to volunteer during your spare time until your other commitments forced you to give up your spot to some other benevolent soul. Since you have been meaning to visit the grandmas and grandpas there when you got some free time, you suppose it would be nice to talk to kind ol’ Ms. Kim today and listen to her recount her many youthful adventures (which is, more often than not, a euphemism for her various sexcapades in the 70s.)

The senior home is closer to your home than the coffee shop, so you choose to stop and gaze at the plain-looking white building with its neatly trimmed bushes and white picket fence. It looks out of place in the neighborhood, with its very suburban and Americana design, but you know it is only because the owner of the establishment had gotten her inspiration from Forrest Gump. She has a crush on young Tom Hanks, and you honestly can’t blame her for it; that man… he is a Man, with a capital M.

You’re in the middle of debating whether you should buy your coffee first before visiting the seniors when you hear a distant shout coming from within the house. Alarmed, you take a step back, almost falling on your ass and onto the sidewalk. You pause, tilting your head to try and peak over the fence and through the large windows that showed the reception area within. You recognize Hana, the receptionist, sitting by her desk in her usual green scrubs, her head bowed over a book as if the sound had not fazed her in the slightest.

“Am I crazy? Am I starting to hear things?” You wonder aloud, still staring at the innocent-looking home. Has the universe had enough with your lacklustre existence that it has caused you to hear nonsense? Is this only the beginning of your slow descent into madness?

You don’t have to fret over your sanity for too long because moments later, the shout repeats itself. Like the previous one, this one sounds just as pained and anguished, though you aren’t sure if it was a male or female who had screamed. For all you knew, the person might have either stubbed their toe or gotten a knife stabbed through their chest; it’s not like you spend time distinguishing the subtle nuances of tormented screams. However, you are more certain now that it had come from within the home, even though Hana has yet to react to the chilling noise. She flips to the next page, tired eyes squinting at the small text.

You are stuck at an impasse: do you go inside the home despite the possible danger of entering a secret cannabilist society of which your acquaintance has been initiated to, or do you turn around and go home where it is 100% more likely for you to survive the next 24 hours?

The choice becomes apparent to you, however, when a tall, lanky boy bursts out of one of the doors behind the receptionist, with his arms piled to the ceiling with dinner plates on the cusp of making their way to the floor. Even through the window and behind a fence, you can tell that he is in dire need of help, which Hana does not seem likely to extend. The mess of legs makes a beautiful display of himself, his lower limbs flapping about aimlessly as his body contorts to try and keep himself and the plates balanced.

Finally, after what feels like hours of torture watching the poor volunteer make a fool of himself, he manages to steady himself, his legs crossed together like he’s trying to hold in his piss. Carefully, he squats down, placing the plates on the floor in front of the receptionist desk. For a moment, you feel as though you should be applauding, for whatever reason.

Now without dishes obscuring his face, you can make out the identity of the flailing giraffe man. He turns, fingers combing through his distinctly colored hair––

Oh god. It’s him. You gotta get out of there, fast, before he recognizes you. Maybe if you run quickly enough, then maybe he won’t notice you when he looks out the window around.

“Ha,” the universe laughs, clapping their asscheeks to the rhythm of Ludacris’ Move Bitch Get Out Da Way™️ with a smirk. “Cute of you to think your life isn’t basically a 20-year long trainwreck in motion.”

Inevitably he turns around, his eyes immediately locking on your face despite being half-concealed by the fence. He looks confused for a moment, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish until he lights up, recognition flooding his features. Even though you cannot hear him clearly, you just know that he said something stupid, judging by the way Hana has finally looked up from her book to stare at him weirdly.

Please don’t come out and greet me. Please just let me wave at you awkwardly and for you to stay where you are. Please don’t go out and talk to me––

Your prayers go unanswered once more as he sidesteps the wall of plates, his hip just barely grazing it and almost causing it to tumble down. The pile sways precariously from left to right, miraculously staying put as he rushes out to greet you. You can only imagine the mess he’d have to clean up if it did, shards of cheap porcelain left behind in his awkward, fumbling wake.

Luckily (or unluckily for you), he makes it out of the senior home in one piece. He crosses the short path to the fence in two inhumanly long strides, slamming the fence door open with a wide swing. It smacks loudly against the railing, the hinges making a pained groan as it looks to be at the inch of its life––literally. You vaguely remember replacing the screws on it just before you left over six months ago… Surely you hadn’t done such a shoddy job? Although, you know that simply can’t be true. After all, you’re dealing with none other than destruction incarnate himself, Kim––

“Y/N!” Namjoon greets happily, his dimples deeper than you remember. You swallow heavily, trying your best not to sweat under his overly enthusiastic gaze. God, you should’ve gone straight to the coffee shop when you had the chance.

Nothing like facing disaster head-on, as they say. “Hey,” you reply half-heartedly, though the walking inflatable tube man doesn’t seem to mind your lacklustre mood. He grasps your hands for a shake, swinging your entire body up and down with the care of a man who does not know his own strength. You, his unfortunate victim, are left to suffer through his artery-bursting grip.

“Oh god, you have no idea how glad I am to see you! Not that I’m not normally happy to see you at university, but––” He speaks so quickly that it’s hard to keep track of the specific contents of his sentences, so you can only hope that your unenthused nods will be enough to placate the bumbling buffoon. You resign yourself to a fate similar to the bobbleheads on the dashboards of those white suburban soccer moms.

“Wait, hold on.” What on earth..? You are full on gaping at the piece of work on top of his head, not even pretending to be polite as you try to process what is in front of you. “What the hell happened to your hair?”

You know from old Facebook photos that Namjoon has natural black locks, though you can’t say that his wacky hairstyles were also inborn. Ever since you have known him, he has always dyed his hair a sandy brown color, complimenting his tan skin. Now, however…

“You mean the weird blue streaks?” Namjoon says, rubbing a few strands thoughtfully. His hair is a walking disaster, and this is coming from someone who has seen what Kim Seokjin has done to his clients. (There’s a reason his Yelp reviews are terrible… He deserves negative stars, if you’re being honest.)

“Did you lose a dare or something?”

“Uh… Kind of?” He scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed. “I had meant to change my hair color to something more exciting, so I asked the kids at the daycare and they suggested blue. Problem is, the seniors said they preferred my brown hair but I already promised the kids so… Here we fucking are,” he says in one breath, appearing as though what he said was obvious.

“So your solution was to compromise… by coloring half your hair blue, like some botched version of Death the Kid?”

“Exactly!” He beams, glad that you understand him perfectly.

Oh my god… He’s… No words are coming to you right now, but you get the picture.

The thing about Kim Namjoon is… he’s not… bad. Or dumb, for that matter.

Okay, not the best compliment out there, but it’s true. You’ve known for as long as you’ve been a university student, and your first meeting is certainly one for the books. You wouldn’t exactly consider him a “friend,” and an acquaintance is a bit of a stretch on most days, but he’s a nice guy. He’s eccentric in the most positive way, and not at all in the same chaotic and evil way that Seokjin is (for which you are thankful for.) It has always been a bit tricky to get close with him, as his head is always so far up in his work that it almost feels like he’s being reclusive on purpose.

If you ignore the fact that he has that odd propensity to volunteer himself in any job on the face of the earth (with him being unqualified 9 times out of 10), it is easy to see why people think so highly of him.

He is a scholarship student with a 4.0 GPA, is the youngest candidate to ever receive the university president’s yearly public commendation, and has already released two reputable mixtapes with high praise from critics nationwide. He’s nothing if not a prodigy, and he’s amassed a hefty following for his accomplishments. As a music major yourself, it’s hard not to be a little starstruck with him if you’re being honest.

Most of all, you remember the first song that you had ever heard from him: Moonchild. You still can’t quite believe he let you hear one of his many masterpieces when the two of you had just been total strangers. The lyrics had been so heartfelt, so intimate, that you felt as if you were intruding on his personal space or something. But he had let you listen, let you take a peek at what goes on inside that nebulous brain of his. When he does things like that, it makes it easy to understand why people might think your love poem might be about him. He’s just so… easy to admire.

The poem isn’t about him, but. It could have been, in some other life. (Or maybe it is.)

(Was.)

(Will?)

Regardless, you still have to convince him otherwise. You just simply aren’t ready for that type of development, much less with him. Despite all his good sides.

Thus, Kim Namjoon leaves you at a standstill. Why do you feel so fucking weird about harboring this idol crush on him? How can he be so dumb and so smart at the same time? He has blue fucking hair for crying out loud! He’s causing you cognitive dissonance just by existing, and it’s giving your meagre amount of brain cells a workout.

Oh shit, have you been ignoring him? You were totally zoning out this entire time, haven’t you?

Somewhere around the time you were having your mini mental breakdown, Namjoon’s mouth had stopped moving, giving you an expectant look. Oh shit. He probably asked you something. Embarrassed and unwilling to give away that you had not processed even a single word out of his mouth, you nod and give him an approximation of what you assume is a friendly smile.

For a second, you think that you might have gotten away with it when Namjoon’s face breaks out into an enormous grin. He grabs you by the shoulder and envelops you in an chokehold-like embrace. You let out a wheeze, clawing at his biceps with your remaining strength to try and prevent your untimely death due to asphyxiation. “Namjoon..?”

He lets out a shriek at a higher octave than you thought a man of his size was capable of. Somewhere out there, a dog probably perks up at the supersonic sound. “Y/N, I knew I could count on you! Thank you so much for agreeing to help me with the elders for Zombie Tea Time!”

Now that caught your attention. You pause in your squirming to fix him with a confused expression. “I’m… I’m sorry? What did you say?”

His smile never falters. He presses his cheek against yours, rubbing it happily with a hum. In any other scenario, you might have fainted from how adorable he was being, but seeing as how all your blood is still trapped in your upper extremities from his vice hug, it is difficult enough trying to remember how to stay alive.

“Every Saturday, the senior home hosts this event called Zombie Tea Time where the old people all get to have their faces painted with fake blood and all the volunteers have to pretend to be innocent civilians trying to get away from them!”

The more Namjoon speaks, the more you feel your sanity dripping out of your ass like diarrhea. “Ex. Excuse me? Say that again?”

“Yeah, it’s a new thing the volunteers are trying out this month,” Namjoon says, finally (finally) releasing you from his hug. You don’t know if your flushed cheeks are from embarrassment or a stroke. “Like I said, we’re a bit shorthanded today, so I’ve had to wash the plates from breakfast AND pretend to get eaten by senile zombies. It’s… a lot.”

“Oh, I can tell.” You grimace, patting him on the shoulder empathetically. You freeze. “Wait. So that’s why you were screaming a while ago?”

“Huh?” Namjoon pauses, before his face does something funny where it looks like he’s either going to sneeze or take a shit. Thankfully he does neither, but instead reaches his hand around his back like he has an itch he needs to scratch. He makes a pained yelp, plucking something out from his asscheeks and pulling out what appears to be––

You stare at the object in his palm. “Are those… dentures?”

“Hmm…” Namjoon stares at it, too tired to be disgusted. He just nods his head sagely. “Must’ve been when I was too slow to dodge Mister Lee’s lunge. I was beginning to wonder why my ass felt like it was being eaten out.”

“Please, never say that sentence to me ever again.”

“Yea,” he agrees, sighing faintly. He pockets the teeth much to your horror, patting it gently like he hadn’t just placed a pair of dentures in his fucking scrubs. He dusts off his hands, his lips pursed so that his dimples stand prominently on display. You barely contain yourself from sinking your finger right into their hypnotizing abysses.

He looks at you hopefully. “So… Uh. You said you’ll help me?”

Oh right. You fucking said you’d help him fend off a hoard of virulent old people in face paint.

You look to the right, where the coffee shop is just within sight. Sweet, sweet caffeine, tantalizing you with its saccharine presence, dangling its wretchedly addictive power over your head. If you breathe deeply enough, you think you can smell the coffee beans from here.

You turn back to Namjoon, and you can physically feel the weight of his hopeful gaze on your shoulders. Your defenses have never crumbled so quickly in your life. Fuck him and his stupidly handsome ass.

You sigh, resigning your fate to eternally being whipped for a pair of pretty long legs and size B man titties. “Let’s fucking do this, I guess.” Easier said than done, but you already have one foot in elephant shit, so might as well submerge your whole body as well.

You follow Namjoon closely, having to take two extra steps for every one step that he takes. He crosses the reception area quickly, sending energetic finger guns at Hana which unsurprisingly goes unrequited. You take the more inconspicuous route and wave shyly at her, intimidated by her even after you have long since stopped working here. She levels you with one of her infamous hundred yard stares, lips turned downwards as she appraises you.

“You’ve decided to come back?” she asks, leaning back on her chair with a huff.

Namjoon is in the midst of trying to once again carry all the plates in his Play-Doh arms, so you’re a bit distracted when you shake your head in response. “Uh. N-no, Namjoon just asked me to help with the dishes, that’s all.”

“That’s a shame,” Hana says, no trace of disappointment in her voice whatsoever. She returns to her book, buzzing open the double doors to let the two of you pass. She flicks her hand lazily at the commotion happening behind her. “Better hurry back in there. The seniors are getting antsy.”

The doors open automatically, and you almost topple over when you are immediately bombarded with the terrifying symphony of old people hollering obscenities at frantic volunteers trying desperately to get away from their gnarled clutches. The hoard hasn’t noticed the two of you yet, and you fear to wonder what type of horrors that you will have to face once you step through those doors. You absolutely refuse to die on this hill, not when you haven’t even had your first kiss yet.

“I don’t think we’ll die,” Namjoon says, as if he can read your mind. You look at him skeptically.

“You think?”

He clears his throat. “I can’t promise we’ll come out of this unscathed, though.”

He takes a tentative step forward, the pile of dishes wobbling dangerously on their perch. You are quick to steady the leaning tower of Disa(ster), managing to transfer half of it into your own arms. You grunt, adjusting your stance so that you do not accidentally lose your grip. “Dude. How the hell did you get all those plates out here in the first place?”

Namjoon stands up straighter, the weight significantly easier for him to manage now. He smiles cherubically back at you, eyes crinkling cutely. “Oh, I was literally on survival mode and trying to stop lil Mrs. Sun from gnawing my leg off. The elders can smell fear you see, so they were definitely going to climb on top of me like World War Z and probably kill me.” He pauses, deep in thought. “Although, I think I dropped a plate or two while I was escaping, so watch your step!”

He says all of that with the same eagerness as man who is about to do something crazy, like jump out of a plane or walk a tightrope over a 100 ft canyon. Though, you have to admit that this entire scenario feels like it is on the same calibre.

“Is it me, or are the old people here 10 times crazier than I remember when I volunteered here?”

“You used to work here?” Namjoon says, amazed. “Oh, I didn’t know that! I only started a week ago when some other person resigned due to mental health issues or something.”

“You sure that this place isn’t the cause of their mental decline?” You say it like a joke, though you mean it seriously. Maybe the universe had been looking out for you when decided to get out of this place.

“Hmm… Maybe. Although, we only received this shipment of old people fairly recently.”

Pause. Rewind. “S-shipment?” you repeat, staring at him wildly.

Like the lovable airhead that he is, Namjoon fails to notice your astonishment and instead takes the first brave step forward through the double doors. He tilts his head towards the hallway, gesturing for you to follow him. The plates rattle dangerously from his movements. “C’mon, we gotta get these plates cleaned before the lunch crew comes to take over their shifts!”

Walking to the kitchen is easier than you thought, especially after you take into account the fact that all the old people completely ignored you and chose to only attack Namjoon, for whatever reason. You like to think that it is because the seniors still remember you back when you were still volunteering here and that they hold some semblance of endearment for you, but Namjoon begs to differ. In fact, he screams out his hypothesis as to why you have been left unharmed, all while two older women climb his back like demented crabs.

“Y/N! I think they can’t attack you because you’re in civilian clothes! They only attack scrubs!” Namjoon says, swatting away one of the women off his back with a surprisingly coordinated headbutt. She shrieks as she falls, landing on all four legs like a cat would do. She hisses lowly at you, before scuttling off to somewhere unseen.

“Let’s hope you’re right,” you wince, watching Namjoon unsuccessfully trying to spin quick enough to dislodge the remaining senior.

Namjoon perks up when he catches a glimpse of his attacker’s face, giggling and appearing as if he isn’t currently being assailed by a senior citizen. “Oh, Ms. Kim! I didn’t see you there. I love the zombie make-up you got going. Who helped you?” He looks at you, as if imploring you to compliment her as well.

“Uh. Yes. You’re looking very… yellow.”

Ms. Kim snarls, baring her teeth. “It’s the jaundice,” she says.

Not wanting to stand in that hallway any longer, you carefully place the plates back on the floor before you gently unclamp the old lady’s talons from Namjoon’s poor biceps. You wince, feeling the length of her nails and knowing that Namjoon is going to have some nasty scars.

You tell him so, but he only shakes his head. “Nah? I think they’d be pretty neat! Battle scars are cool right?”

You grimace at him. “If that’s… what you think, then sure.”

After grabbing your plates and hurrying after him before the elders make note of Namjoon’s survival, the two of you share a sigh of relief as you both slowly start piling them into the dishwasher. The task is menial and repetitive, and despite what Namjoon’s earlier chattiness might have suggested, he is quiet while he works. The silence is not as awkward as you feared, and honestly the peace is a welcome respite after all the chaos that you had to endure in such a short period of time. Although, silence has never been a good friend to your overworked mind, as it allowed you to stew inside your own head for much too long––and you have found in your 20 years of existence that it is probably for the best that you are not left without external stimulation for too long.

But here you are, forced to do exactly that. You would have engaged in some conversation with Namjoon to stop yourself from getting in over your head, but you are afraid of what sort of embarrassing topics might spew out of your mouth if you do. Heaven forbid that you start geeking out on him about your unhealthy obsession of collecting miniature glass horse figurines––that is a secret best kept between yourself and the tentacle monster under your bed.

You begin reflecting on the events from the past two weeks, replaying them second by agonizing second and ruminating on the state that your pitiful young adult life has become. The more you allow these memories to simmer, the more you slowly realize the weight of the accumulated stress that has long since made you hunch over like a goblin.

Hoseok and Jimin’s argument comes to the forefront of your mind, the unexpected heat coming from both of them confusing you to no end. You still don’t know the source of their ire towards one another, but what baffles you the most is how you could have missed it in the first place. Sure, you had thought they were at least more than acquaintances; one does not simply challenge a near stranger to a dance off in the middle of a library three times a week, for more than two months and counting. Friends might have been a stretch, though you can’t say you’re familiar with how their schedules look like outside your tutoring sessions together.

The question is though… should you interfere? Normally, you would have stayed far away from anyone else’s drama––you just aren’t the type of person to stick their noses in other people’s business. Yet somehow, you feel as if your poem was the catalyst to this violent chain reaction, that you have inadvertently caused the foundation of a precarious building to explode and bring the whole thing crashing down. To think that your silly love poem for a boy who hardly knows that you exist has become the center of so many people’s lives… the entire thing is giving you a headache.

Speaking of headaches… you should probably confront Namjoon about the poem as well. It is probably best that you plan your approach better this time, seeing as how your two previous attempts have been anything but stellar. Namjoon can’t be that difficult to convince, right? And even if he does see right through you, he doesn’t seem like the type of person who would laugh cruelly at you in the event that he figures out that you are the author. Not like Seokjin, at least. Luckily no one is like Seokjin, the fucking rat bastard that he is.

(In the distance, Seokjin has the sudden animalistic urge to slip anthrax in your milk tea the next time he sees you.)

You glance at Namjoon from the corner of your eye, definitely not ogling the way his arms flex as he loads the final couple of plates. The breath catches in your throat when you realize that some time while you were busy swimming in your junkyard of a brain, he had rolled up his sleeves up to his forearms, displaying his god-like veins for the eyes of the deplorable (you) to feast upon.

Your mouth feels dry, even though other parts of you feel more moist than you remember. Oh god, now is not the time to remember how hot this fucking nerd is.

Despite the fact that your biological clock is screaming “HORNY HOUR” at your monkey brain, Namjoon continues to be thankfully unaware of your internal panic. He closes the dishwasher door shut, clicking it on with a relieved sigh. He gives you a megawatt smile and makes your heart leap into a somersault, probably knocking around some vital organs along the way.

“Thanks so much for the help, Y/N! Couldn’t have done it without you!” he cheers, clapping you roughly on the shoulder. You wheeze under the impact, waving away his concern despite feeling like your lungs have probably slipped out of your asshole.

“It’s no problem, Namjoon…” you sigh, gazing sadly as Namjoon begins to do a final sweep of the kitchen before inevitably going to sign off for the day. You know your window of opportunity has already closed, and if you had not spent so much time staring at his beautiful man tiddies, you are sure you could have been a little more productive with him. Curse him and his damn chest.

But now, at least you’ll have more time to think of how to approach him and bring up the poem when you aren’t, like, seriously decaffeinated and on the cusp of a heart attack. You are about to bid him farewell with your tail between your legs when his hands cup your cheeks, catching you off guard.

You splutter incomprehensibly, arms flapping about like a fish out of water. “Wha––?”

“Oh, I forgot to mention! After my hours here at the senior home, I have the afternoon shift at the daycare center near our university and I was wondering if you’d like to come with me?”

If Namjoon’s cool, large hands holding your face like a delicate flower had caught you off guard, then his sudden invitation only exacerbated the furious blush blooming across your neck like a rash.

So what do you say?

“Meep,” is what you say, like the verbose poet that you are. Y/N, renowned campus poet, has the vocabulary of a five year old.

“Is that a yes?” Namjoon smiles, letting go off you in favor of looping his gangly arms around your waist. Another unflattering noise escapes your throat at his proximity and his firmness. “That’s so great! The kids love seeing new faces, and I bet they’d love to have a pretty girl around instead of plain ol’ me all the time!”

You gape at him. Did he just say…

“P-pretty?”

“Yea, sure!” Namjoon says, his stupid grin still on his stupidly handsome face. He does not appear to be embarrassed at all by his brazenness, which is starting to make you think he is either a well-seasoned flirt or just plain oblivious to the implications of his own words. Knowing him, you wouldn’t put it past him that the latter might be the reason.

Compliments and unintentional flirting aside, you really did not feel up to another harrowing experience with Namjoon at one of his other volunteering stunts. You are but a woman in clown shoes, and even the most seasoned clowns must have their rest.

“Listen, Namjoon… I don’t think I can go with you. I have to go, uh,” you pause, your hamster brain working a mile a minute. “Water… my dog? No, I mean… feed my plant.” You cringe, mentally slapping yourself.

Namjoon, the sneaky bastard, hits you with his strongest and most potent puppy dog eyes in his arsenal. It was super effective! “Please, Y/N? I won’t take too much of your time! Just play with the kids for two hours and I promise to leave you alone!”

C’mon, Y/N. Focus. Are you the type of woman to break down her defenses for the wilful fancies of any man? You’re made of stronger stuff than this. Surely you can look him in the eye and tell him straight to his face that you would prefer to go home and rest on this beautiful Saturday than go frolicking with a bunch of snot-nosed children––

“Oh, sure. Why the hell not?” you say, like the dumb fucking idiot that you are.

Namjoon’s dimples deepen even further. You glare menacingly at them, knowing full well that they were entirely the cause of your weakness.

“Thank you so much, Y/N! The kids will really appreciate your presence! C’mon, we haven’t got time to lose!”

Namjoon does not even give you the time to fully comprehend your own pitiful existence before he nearly tugs your arm out of its socket as he maneuvers you to the local daycare just a few minutes away from the senior home. You don’t get to say your farewells to any of the seniors or your old work colleagues, but it might be for the best… You will need all the sanity left in your body to survive the rest of the day with Namjoon.

On the bright side, that means you’ll have the chance to talk to him about the poem, though you’re still hesitant to do so with how badly your previous stunts had ended up. But then again, when else would you get another good opportunity to talk to your crush acquaintance about this? You suppose you’ll just have to wait and see what happens next, and hope for the best.

You have been at the daycare for almost three hours now, and there are still no signs of you ever bringing up the poem. You might as well sign your last will and testament with the macaroni art supplies currently decorating your body, making you look like a morbid pasta dish monster from hell. You hope to god that the sticky stuff all over your skin is just cheese… White, rubbery scented cheese…

“Ain’t this fun?” Namjoon calls out from somewhere, presumably under the mass of ten or so toddlers all climbing him like a tree. You are caught in a state of déjà vu as the children start feasting upon any exposed areas of skin that their kid-sized incisors can find.

You just wanted to talk about the fucking poem for fuck’s sake! Instead, you have to deal with thirty 2-foot children and one 6-foot manchild during one of your only free days in a week.

A miniature demon tugs your sleeve, forcing you to tear your eyes away from Namjoon’s slow demise. You bend down to the little gremlin’s height, mouth twitching upwards in what you hope is a somewhat decent smile. Judging by the kid’s unimpressed face, you doubt it.

“Yes?”

“Miss Y/N? Can you tell your boyfriend that Jake peed in the ballpit again? Aera slipped on the puddle and now she’s crying and disturbing the younger kids.”

Record scratch, freeze frame. Now, we don’t have time to unpack all of that. Out of all the things the kid had said, you are sure that his implication that you were Namjoon’s girlfriend should not have been on the top of your list of priorities, and yet here you are, your cheeks as flushed as a baboon’s ass.

“He’s not––We’re not––” you stammer, waving your hands as you try to explain to this unenthused six year old that what she said was entirely impossible. “Namjoon is just a friend!”

You turn to look for the man in question, desperate for him to back you up when you realize he is no longer there. Confused, you leave the huffing child in search for him. You leave the main playroom and search the nearby nurseries, the kitchen, the bathroom… all of them with no Namjoon in sight. Just so you can cover all your bases, you decide to check one of the supply closets too, not really expecting to find anything except––

“Namjoon? What the fu––fudge?” You quickly correct yourself, noticing that not only is Kim Namjoon inside the cramped broom closet, but he is also surrounded by five other children huddled around what appears to be a series of tupperwares connected together by plastic straws.

Namjoon hastens a glance at you, before refocusing his attention back onto what he deems to be more important. He nudges his shoulder against the smallest of the bunch, stage whispering into her ear. “Jihyo, did you bet the three lollipops on Ant #3?”

Jihyo shakes her head, looking mildly offended. “Oppa, do you think I’m dumb? I bet all of my chocolate bars on Ant #6.”

Namjoon whistles lowly, impressed. “All-in? You’re one smart lady.”

You clear your throat. “Namjoon.”

Namjoon has the audacity to hold a finger up to silence you. “Give me a sec… Okay, Seungcheol. You said ten hard candies for Ant #2?”

“Namjoon. Are you seriously running a gambling ring in a daycare?”

He peers up at you, smiling sheepishly. ��I’m, uh… Teaching them about capitalism.” He deposits the candy bets into his pocket before starting the timer on his phone. The children begin to cheer raucously, little fists pumping up as they watch their bets race towards a slice of cake.

“I can’t believe this,” you groan, wanting nothing more than the earth to swallow you whole.

Eventually, Namjoon exits the closet, gently closing the door. The shouts of the children become muted immediately. When you gaze inquisitively at him, all he does is shrug his shoulders. “What? Secret clubs allow people to explore their interests.”

At this point, you don’t really want to argue anymore. And so, the hectic day goes by, full of running after the children and occasionally having to reel Namjoon in when he does something bordering on negligence. The parents slowly start filtering in by five in the afternoon, most of whom pat Namjoon affectionately on the back and thanking him for his stellar daycare service.

“Oh, Namjoon! My little Jihyo absolutely adores you! She hardly wants to leave whenever I come to pick her up.” Jihyo’s mother smiles, slipping a small tip into Namjoon’s waiting palm. The little shit pockets it, bowing graciously at her.

“All in a day’s work, madame. I just love children, you know?” he says, sighing dramatically.

From behind her mother, Jihyo gorges herself on her prize winnings, shoving a whole packet of M&M’s into her mouth. She swallows them quickly when her mother turns to bring her home.

“I hate this,” you say to yourself, smiling through the pain.

“Oh, before I forget!” Jihyo’s mother dashes back inside, startling you. She approaches you, grasping your hands in hers and shaking it wildly until you can hear your joints pop out of their sockets. “Your name is Y/N right? Thank you for taking care of Namjoon, too. It’s so nice to see that he’s finally snagged a girl as pretty as you.”

It is a testament to how dead inside you truly are by how nonplussed you are by their unfounded accusation. At this point, they could congratulate you on your recent engagement to Namjoon and you probably wouldn’t bat an eye.

“Thanks.” All in a day’s work of being a madman’s little bitch for the day.

After the last child is taken away, your Saturday finally ends. There had been no poem discussion and no progress made; only your respect from one of your long-time crushes being whittled away like the soaps on those ASMR channels until you are left with useless cubes of Irish Spring scented granules.

On your way home, you pass by Seokjin sitting languidly on the bench outside the coffee shop that you had originally intended to go to this morning. The closed sign greets you impetuously, and your wounds are salted further by the sheer presence of the most annoying man on the planet.

Seokjin sips on his venti iced Americano, Gucci sunglasses tipped downward on his nose. An odd, high pitched windshield wiper sound escapes his lips, and you belatedly realize that he must be his version of laughter. “Y/N. So nice to see you. I’m guessing that you just came out of a… fishy affair?”

You grind your teeth, flexing forward with the intent of hitting the rat bastard. Fish crackers fall out of your hair in clumps from your movement. “I’ll eat your toes if you say another word about this.”

You say that, but you know that there will be photos of you out on Facebook by the time your head meets your pillow for the night, as you hear the telltale sound of a camera shutter go off as you limp sadly back home.

The following Monday, you resolve to talk to Namjoon during your History of Music class together.

Now normally, you would never subject yourself to sitting near Namjoon in class. No, it is not because of your debilitating crush, nor his eccentric personality, nor something unexpected like insanely toxic body odor (which he does not have, by the way. He always smells alarmingly like cotton candy.) In fact, nobody likes to sit near Namjoon, made apparent by the two row radius of empty chairs around him. As much as everyone adores and idolizes him for his talent, no one can stand his propensity to overachieve like the infuriating know-it-all that he is. His hand is perpetually up in the air, begging to be picked for recitation, always with something profound to say.

“Sir, I don’t think your notes are correct. From my research, that type of music would not have existed until the 1600s––”

“Namjoon,” your professor seethes, Powerpoint clicker clutched tightly in his fists. His left eyebrow twitches concerningly as he tries to calm his breathing. “I would prefer it greatly if you do not question the actual expert in this area, is that okay with you?”

Yeah. He is definitely not someone you’d want to sit beside.

Though, he really makes it hard not to want to be around him. Despite all the imperfect parts of his personality, Namjoon always looks like the cover model of what a perfect college boyfriend should dress like. Terrible dyejob aside, his hair is slicked back in a fashionable way, revealing his beautiful forehead for all of humanity to behold. He is wearing a fitted graphic tee under a denim jacket, with loose brown slacks that look good on his endlessly long legs. To top it off, his signature wire-frame glasses sit daintily on his nose, making him appear as smart as he is.

You are suddenly reminded of the true scale of your crush on him as sweat begins to build on your neck and down your backside. How the hell are you going to approach him now that you are perfectly aware of how good he looks? It is people like Kim Namjoon that remind you of this universal truth: attractive people only exist to cause the less fortunate to forget how to use their basic motor skills.

Focus. Remember how much of a crackhead he was last Saturday? Okay, retain that information. Remember how fucking stupid he is, and this will be much easier on your heart and your loins.

Taking a deep breath, you make your way to where he is seated, right at the front of the class. It is a long way down the auditorium to where he is, and you can feel the stares of a few of your classmates as you make the treacherous journey right into the proverbial lion’s maw. You do your best to ignore them, quietly sliding up next to him and waiting for him to notice your presence.

From the corner of your eye, you can see that he is jotting something frantically on a notebook, a mess of words in more languages than you can speak decorating every available space on the smooth white pages. At the top of the paper, you can see what might be a tentative title for a song, perhaps? You can’t be too entirely sure, as Namjoon is part of so many clubs and organizations that he might as well be writing next week’s lunch menu for the cafeteria.

(Highly doubtful as Namjoon has a reputation for allowing inflammable things to catch on fire, but you wouldn’t put it past him to at least try and apply for a culinary position.)

It seems that Namjoon is too immersed in his writing to greet you himself, so you have to be the one to steel yourself and strike a conversation with him instead.

“Uh. Hey… Namjoon?” Smooth like butter. Seokjin would be proud.

Namjoon doesn’t reply. He keeps scribbling along, humming something indistinct under his breath.

You clear your throat. “Namjoon?”

No response. Again, “Hello?” You wave a hand in front of his face. His blinking slows for a second, but he continues to ignore you.

Starting to get pissed off, you huff quietly to yourself before bringing your palm backwards and slapping him upside the head. “HEY PANINI HEAD! YOU FUCKING IN THERE OR WHAT?”

That manages to bring him out of his headspace, thankfully. “Huzzat?” Namjoon jumps, cradling the back of his neck gingerly as he stares at you, confused. Recognition filters through his eyes as he realizes belatedly what had just happened. He blushes slightly. “Oops.”

“Oops is right. Were you really going to ignore me for the rest of the class if I hadn’t slapped you?”

Namjoon shrugs, grinning in that cute goofy way that he does. “Sorry. ‘M not used to people sitting beside me, is all. Glad to have a friend in this class though! Have you always been in this class?”

“Yea, but I usually sit in the back.”

Namjoon nods, turning back to his notebook. “Sorry for ignoring you. I really didn’t mean it. When I’m in the middle of writing, it’s kind of hard to get me out of my own brain. Plus, this draft is due in two weeks and I’ve scrapped three pages worth of lyrics already… I’m kind of in a panic right now.”

You peek over his arm, trying your best to decipher some of his words. Your interest is piqued, always having wanted to see his draft notebook ever since that first time he showed you Moonchild almost a year ago. “Lungs have capsized… I am drowning in my own body… Wow, those are some dark stuff.”

“You think so?” Namjoon squints at his own messy handwriting. “I got inspired by the fish in the aquarium I volunteer in. I’m actually excited to go back there, because I want to play it for the fish and see if they like it.”

“Isn’t it better to play it at the daycare of senior home so you can actually get… human feedback?”

Namjoon gasps, hand to his heart, offended. “How dare you assume that fish can’t give quality feedback!”

“Right,” you cough, raising your hands in defeat. How dare you, indeed. “Sorry.”

Namjoon sniffs, closing his notebook just as the professor walks in to start the class. “You better be. The fishies get really offended when people say stuff like that.”

The professor begins the moment he sets down his things, so you know you won’t have time to bring up the poem, not when Namjoon is already starting to fall into his overachieving know-it-all student persona. You tap him lightly on the shoulder, gaining his attention.

“Hey, I have to ask you something later after class. Will you stay behind for a few moments?”

“Sure,” Namjoon replies cheerily, flipping on his laptop to start taking down notes. He stops in his tracks before gazing warily at you. “Hold on. If this is about the fishies again…”

You have to resist the urge to roll your eyes, so you sigh instead. “No, Namjoon. This isn’t about the fishies.”

Appeased, Namjoon returns to listening attentively to the professor drone on about dead musicians and their impact on musical culture. You hardly take any notes, still nervous about talking to Namjoon about the poem. What would be the best way to approach the subject, you wonder? Your previous attempts with Seokjin and Hoseok had featured a lot of yelling and arguing, and you would prefer not to leave a bad impression on Namjoon of all people. Additionally, you don’t want to know what arguing with Namjoon would entail, because you have a strong feeling that any debate with him will only leave you second guessing your entire existence with how good he is at flipping the subject. Or, you could always kick him in the knees, but that would be like overpowering a baby––you’d be a monster for taking advantage of him.

The short one hour lecture flies by quicker than you would like. To your surprise, Namjoon only interrupts the professor twice, so you suppose that’s a win for everyone else.

“Alright class. Please remember that the research paper regarding 17th century music is due on the Friday before your break,” your professor says. He points a stern look at all of you, and maybe you’re imagining it, but somehow you feel like he pauses just a second longer when he passes his gaze over you. “And please, try not to send your paper to the entire student body to air your secret little crushes like a bunch of lovestruck idiots.”

Your ears turn an unflattering shade of red as most of the students chuckle at his little joke, all of them probably not knowing that the lovestruck idiot was just a few seats away.

“C’mon, Namjoon.” You sigh, shrugging on your backpack as you wait for him to finish packing up. Namjoon watches you curiously, brows furrowed.

“You seem dejected. Are you having trouble with class? Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

“N-not… not really,” you say, shaking your head. “Can we talk about this outside? People for the next class are starting to come in.”

Namjoon follows you dutifully from behind, and you can hear him bid his farewells to a few giggling freshmen as the two of you exit the lecture hall. They coo openly in his presence, with one of them bold enough to compliment his fairly generous bosom, her fingers twitching as if she is only one push away from grabbing them by the fistful.

You walk towards the small cafe near the entrance of the building, grabbing one of the empty chairs and gesturing for Namjoon to sit across from you. He does as you say, confusion still gracing his handsome features.

“So, will you tell me why you’ve called me out here now?” Namjoon asks. Before you can respond, however, he reaches into his backpack and pulls out a half squished sandwich. He offers you the less crushed half, like the gentleman that he is, but you find it hard to accept when you feel like your stomach is turning inside out with nerves.

“Umm… How do I say this…” You groan, leg bouncing so incessantly that the poor table begins to shake. Namjoon doesn’t even try to stop his other sandwich half from sliding over, instead giving you a concerned glance.

Fuck it. Better to rip the band-aid off in one swoop, right?

“Y/N––?”

“Namjoon, are you aware that people think someone wrote a stupid love poem about you?”

His previously open mouth clamps shut, then. He stares at you in confusion, a dollop of mayonnaise hanging off his jutting chin. “What?”

Panicking slightly, you’re quick to continue your train of thought, probably to your own detriment. “NOT that the poem is about you, by the way. Well, it could be? No? I DIDN’T WRITE IT!” Pause for heavy breathing. “A-anyway, that’s not the point… I just wanted to ask if you were… umm… aware of it. Yeah. That’s it.”

Ohhhh my god. You stupid idiot. Fuck fuck fuck fuck you fucking stupid piece of shit ass tit fuck what other swear words are there oh yeah FUCK!!!

In the midst of your personal mental beatdown, you fail to see Namjoon’s genuine look of confusion, his head tilted to the side as he watches your face turn red. He chews on his sandwich thoughtfully. “Uh? No? I’m not aware? I really have no idea what you are talking about, Y/N.”

You finally stop swearing at yourself. “Wait, really?”

Namjoon nods his head. “Really. What poem are you talking about?”

“Please tell me you’re joking. I don’t really like being teased; I get enough of that from Seokjin.”

“No, I’m serious!” Namjoon raises his hands in surrender. “I wouldn’t joke about something that is clearly giving you distress.”

“It’s not causing me distress!” You screech back, voice cracking from your tone going up a pitch. You clear your throat. “Um. Wait. So that means you haven’t heard about the huge rumor going around about a love poem being about you?”

He shrugs his shoulders, lips pursed. “Not a clue. Am I supposed to?”

Huh. You stare at the imbecile before you, his previously handsome looks starting to look less appealing by the minute. Is this shithead for real? Did you really spend hours worrying over how you would approach him about the poem, only to find out that he has no clue what you’re talking about? Like, how is it even possible for him not to know? You can’t even spend a minute doing anything without someone bringing up that stupid mistake of a poem. How the hell did you ever have a crush on him?

“Pardon? Did you say crush something?”

“Oh shit,” you curse, slapping a palm to your mouth. Did you fucking say that out loud?

“Sorry,” Namjoon swallows thickly, a large bite of his sandwich visibly going down his gullet. “I was chewing too loudly so I didn’t hear you properly.”

You heave a sigh of relief. Okay, maybe being an idiot has its benefits.

“It’s fine. It wasn’t anything important,” you say, already arranging your things to get up and leave. If Namjoon is oblivious to all the poem shenanigans that have been circling campus, then who are you to inform him? All you can hope now is that he remains ignorant of the poem at all, and chalk it up as a success in your book. It’s not like he’s going to be curious to find out more anyway––

“Wait! Don’t go! You’ve piqued my interest now. I wanna know what you were talking about,” Namjoon pipes up, leaning his lanky body sidewards so as to block you from leaving. You halt in your movements, surprised by his sudden inquiry.

Sweat starts to form in the middle of your back at his earnest curiosity. “I––it’s nothing, Namjoon. I was just messing with you. Don’t worry about it.” You laugh nervously.

“I don’t think you were?” Namjoon rubs his chin thoughtfully. “You wouldn’t have been so adamant to call me out here just to be joking.”

“Listen, I really have to go. I have another class soon and I wanna grab lunch before I––”

“You said something about a poem.” He remains undeterred, pulling out his phone. “And it’s about me? Well, not about me, if that’s what you’re saying…”

“Hold up!” You snatch his phone out of his hands, holding it behind you to keep it from his reach. Even though you know his inquisitiveness is not his fault, it doesn’t stop you from wanting to punch him square in his cute little nose. Hell, you don’t recall wanting to fight anyone as much as you do right now.

(Seokjin sneezes somewhere in the distance, feeling offended for whatever reason. “Y/N should only be punching me,” he thinks to himself as he dumps way too much purple dye on this poor lady’s head.)

“Why are you being so weird right now? Give me back my phone!” He pouts at you, not at all knowing that your resolve is already quickly crumbling before him.

“I…” You gulp, foot tapping restlessly as you try to think of what to do. “Okay. Fine, I’ll show you the poem. Just… don’t read too deeply into it, okay? It’s just a stupid thing that got too many people excited over nothing.”

“Sure,” Namjoon nods his head, acquiescing quickly. “I don’t really like paying attention to much of the rumors and trends that happen on campus. I just want to see what this poem is all about.”

“Just… don’t let it get to your head,” you mutter, returning his phone to him. You direct him to the university confessions group page, watching as his fingers fumbled with his keyboard. Eventually, he gets to the post (pinned to the top, forever mocking you for your stupidity) and reads the short piece in record time.

There is a pause where neither of you speak. You know he has finished reading it from the way he has started to scroll down to the comments, though he quickly jumps back to the top when you glare at him to stop. He leans back into his chair, closing his phone and stares at you expressionlessly.

You click your nails across the coffee shop table as you observe him suspiciously, his lack of response making you more nervous. “Well?”

The left side of his mouth quirks up––but not in a way that might suggest glee or satisfaction––and he stays frozen like that for a bit. You have the sudden urge to wave your hand in front of him to check if he’s fine, and being the type of person to submit to your urges, you do as you please.

Thankfully, he snaps out of it, blinking quickly as if he’s forgotten that you were there. He scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed. “Oh, yeah. The poem, uh… How do I put it…”

“What?” What on earth could he have a problem with? Does he genuinely think the poem might be about him? “If you’re starting to think that the poem may be about you––”

“No, no, that’s not it.” Namjoon opens his phone again, peering at the poem questioningly. “I was just going to say that this poem is a lot less impressive than you were hyping it up to be.”

Excuse me??????? He did not fucking just say that.

“You did not just fucking say that,” you verbalize, glowering at him. You can feel the fumes start to steam out of your ears, but Namjoon remains oblivious (as per usual) to your emotions. He just hums, shrugging his shoulders with his nose upturned in the air, as if he had just smelled something horrible.

“It’s just… the meter is all messed up… Like, I’m all about free verse or whatever, but I can tell the author is trying waaaay too hard to keep whatever rhythm they had going on in the first verse.” He scrolls through the poem some more, before stopping somewhere in the middle. He shows you one of your favorite verses with a look of something akin to disdain. “And what’s up with all the moon references? That theme is so overused.”

“YOUR MIXTAPE LITERALLY HAS A SONG CALLED MOONCHILD! THAT’S WHY PEOPLE THINK THE POEM IS ABOUT YOU!” You explode, spittle flying everywhere from the force of your shout. A group of freshmen sitting nearby jump up in surprise, though most of the older, more dead-eyed college students do not even bat an eye at your spectacle. This university is full of cuckoos, is what they are probably thinking.

The biggest cuckoo of them all looks at you defensively, frowning somewhat irritably. Namjoon continues, “Yeah, but I used the moon in my song in a classy way! I would be offended if someone would write this poem for me after being inspired by my song.”

Is it possible for blood to boil inside your veins? Because you’re really starting to feel heat trail up your back up to your neck, causing you to see nothing but red and the tantalizing vision of your hands around his neck. Easy, Y/N. You can’t afford anger management therapy; you have a tuition to pay.

In all seriousness though, you cannot take this any longer. You have suffered long enough while having to follow Namjoon around like a bitch for two days, and if karma still wants to use the strap on you, then she’s going to have to do it some other day because you cannot physically stand being around Namjoon for another ten seconds if you can help it. And this is coming from someone who is around Kim Seokjin at least twice a week, so it is obvious that your patience and sanity is truly at its limit.

“I’m done.” You are barely able to keep yourself from slamming your head against the table. Instead, you stand up hastily, chair legs screeching against the tiled floor. You shoulder your bag quickly, waving at him without even turning to face him. The sooner you get away from him, the better. “You can think what you want. Just live your life, man. I’m done.”

“Okay? Well, have a nice day, Y/N!” Namjoon calls out a cheery goodbye, though his tone obviously still sounds confused even as you walk further and further away from him, a trainwreck of a human being. You resolve to yourself to call Hana the next morning to ask her to slip some opened sweets into his jean pocket so the ants at the daycare might climb out of their shelter to bite him in the balls.

How did you ever have a crush on that bastard? I guess that mystery will have to remain… unsolved.

Unluckily, your mood does not improve after lunch, nor do you calm down after your next class either. In fact, you are still steaming when you arrive to your tutoring session with Hoseok, so much so that you have completely forgotten to be worried about him after the events of last Friday.

(Record scratch, freeze frame. Pause. What the hell happened last Friday again? Your overworked brain cells can only handle one stressful event at a time, so you suppose that problem with Hoseok and Jimin will have to be solved another day.)

Hoseok, the caring boy that he is, also forgets to retain his moodiness from Friday’s argument when he spots you looking like you were about to pop a blood vessel at any moment.

Hoseok sits hesitantly in front of you, even placing his textbooks gently onto the table as if any sudden sounds might cause you to self-combust and splatter your guts all over the library floor. The only thing really keeping you from doing exactly that is because you wouldn’t want poor Jungkook the library assistant to have to clean up your mess.

“Umm… Hey, Y/N. You okay? You look kind of… red.” Hoseok says carefully, smile twitching on his face.

The suddenness at which you slam your hands on the table causes not only Hoseok, but also Jungkook who is three whole bookshelves away, to jump up in surprise. The former makes a terrified scream to accompany his leap into the air, staring at your frantically with his fists held up in defense.

“AHH? Y/N, what’s going on––”

“SHUT UP!” You point a finger menacingly at him, making him shriek once more. Your jaw is clenched, teeth grinding audibly. “YOU FUCKING KNOW WHAT, HOSEOK? I’LL WRITE THE NICEST POEM IN THE ENTIRE WORLD FOR YOU, OKAY? YOU DESERVE IT! FUCK WHAT ANYONE ELSE THINKS! I’M A GOOD WRITER AND NOTHING KIM NAMJOON SAYS WILL CHANGE THAT!”

Hoseok’s mouth opens, agape. He doesn’t know how to respond, not quite understanding what you were saying in the first place. A lot of angry words spilled from your lips in such a short amount of time, and Hoseok was more impressed with your flow than anything. Were you a rapper, by any chance?

Unaware of Hoseok’s musings, you huff loudly to yourself, slamming open your lecture notes and shoving them aggressively towards him. “ALSO, I TOOK THE LIBERTY OF WRITING A REVIEWER FOR YOUR MIDTERM! PLEASE READ THROUGH THEM IF YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS!”

“Umm… Thanks?” Hoseok says, not really sure which part of your loud declarations he is specifically thanking you for. He sneaks a glance at the front desk, thankful that it is only meek little Jungkook in charge today and not the cranky older librarian who already has a personal vendetta against you and your tutoring group for being public nuisances (not that she was unjustly pointing fingers, of course).

Your mental collapse aside, the rest of his tutoring session goes smoothly, with Hoseok still walking on eggshells around you just in case you might feel like exploding again. You know, for fun or something. Although, he does end up asking if he can leave a few minutes early, saying something about a paper due at the end of the week. The excuse doesn’t make you bat an eye until Jimin arrives for his own session, his grin faltering when he sees his hyung not there to greet him with their usual dance battle in the library.

“Ah… Guess Hoseok-hyung really is still mad over what happened…” Jimin sighs, slumping into his chair. He thumbs his textbook thoughtfully, tongue sticking out like a puppy.

“I’m sure it’ll blow over soon,” you say hopefully, though your heart isn’t quite in it either. Coughing awkwardly, you pluck his textbook out of his hands, desperate to talk about something else other than your crumbling interpersonal relationships. You pause at the page, however, before staring incredulously back at Jimin.

“Jimin.”

“Hmm?” Jimin is still listless, head pillowed by his arms on the table. “What?”

“This is a book on differential calculus. I’m supposed to teach you about writing academic essays.”

“Oh yeah,” Jimin sighs, closing his eyes. “I stole that book from some freshman on the way here. The English textbook I usually bring is with Taehyung right now.”

You pause. Actually, now that you think about it… “Jimin, do you actually even go to this university? What the hell is your major, even?”

“Wha-?” Jimin yawns, fanning his mouth with his hand. He blinks sleepily at you with a big, doofy grin. “Sorry, I played MapleStory for hours last night and I haven’t gotten much sleep. Can I just sleep during this session? I’ll still pay you or whatever…” he trails off, stretching like a cat under a patch of sunlight. Before you know it, the soft sound of Jimin’s snoring fills the silence.

Thankfully, Monday ends without much more commotion. You may have come out of this experience a little bit more broken inside, but hey! That’s what character development is all about, babey. You are just glad that Tuesdays are usually your quietest days, as you only have two classes to worry about. It is also one of the days when you have Creative Writing with Sera, who usually manages to rope you in to get greasy fast food after class. Despite the traumatic experience that particular class has indirectly inflicted upon you, your usual zeal and excitement does not diminish in the slightest. After all, writing will always be your first love, so there isn’t any way some silly poem mishap will make you detest it.

Hopefully nothing else will go wrong, because you aren’t so sure your sanity can take much more of a pounding.

(Fwip. Do you hear that? That’s the sound of karma putting on her strap.)

“Alright class, see you guys on Thursday. Don’t forget that we have a quiz at the beginning of class on Thursday, so please don’t be late.” Professor Puth says, his eyelids blinking out of sync. You hate to be someone who assumes what other people do during their off days as it is none of your business, though the perpetual cloud of marijuana that clings around him can only do so much to mask what his recreational activities might be.

“Dude, I think Prof Puth is finding Nirvana soon,” Sera says loudly, earning the giggles of a few classmates nearby.

“I’d be surprised if he could even find the exit of this building,” you snort, just as the man in question trips over air and nearly faceplants on the ground. Like the model students that you are, you both pretend to be busy doing something else, leaving some other poor soul to help your professor.

Two girls that you vaguely remember from somewhere approach Professor Puth. They are quick to help him straighten up, if his groaning and gasping are anything to go by. He thanks them gruffly and waves them off, but the girls seem adamant to stay put.

“Professor, I have a question…” One of the girls asks, nervously tugging on her ponytail. Her friend giggles surreptitiously beside her, urging her to continue. Their odd demeanor causes signals to go off in your brain, telling you to stop and listen. You tug on Sera’s hand, halting her from leaving.

“Wait. I wanna hear what they’re gonna ask,” you mutter, ignoring Sera’s complaints about being hungry. She can wait for her McNuggets for another five minutes, no matter how much she pretends that she’s starving. You had seen her eat two whole burritos before coming into class today.

Professor Puth raises his brow. “Yes? What do you need?”

“We were just wondering if you could… tell us anything about the identity of the author from that poem?” The girl manages to get all of it out in a rush, cheeks flushed as her friend nods fervently beside her.

“Yea, Prof! We’ve been dying to know! The suspense is killing us, knowing that the mystery author is in one of your classes!” The other girl continues, glittery excitement practically exuding out of her in waves.

Professor Puth sighs, leaning heavily on his desk. He appears about as done as you feel. “Listen… You can badger me all you want, but there’s no way I can tell you. Privacy laws prevent us from sharing information like that without prior consent, even though that student in question might have accidentally sent her assignment to the entire school.” You might be imagining it, but you think Professor Puth points you with a knowing look. You gulp, hastily bowing your head and pretending to fiddle with your phone.

“Aww, Prof! It’s been days and the university hasn’t shut up about it! Surely one of the theories on who the author and muse are must be true, right? You can tell us that, at least.”

You can’t bear to keep listening any longer, though Sera has started to become more interested in the conversation as it progressed. “Wait, wait… I wanna hear the Prof’s opinion,” she says, grinning despite your nails digging crescents into her arm as you try to pull her away.

“No can do! Remember, I have your freshman Halloween pictures saved on a harddrive, and you wouldn’t want me to accidentally send that to the entire student body as well, would you?”

That manages to snap her out of it. Quickly, the two of you leave the lecture hall and away from possible discovery by your poem-frenzied classmates. You are also relieved to be able to breathe in fresh air once more, after being stuck in that class surrounded by liberal art students for two hours. You always do feel a little bit more relaxed after class with Puth, although that might just be from all the secondhand drug use.

Perhaps the fumes really did dull your reflexes, as it takes a while before you realize that Sera has been nudging your shoulder.

When you finally glanced at her, there is a sneaky grin on her face: never a good sign. “So,” she begins, a singsong quality in her voice

After having been her friend for long enough, you have become adept at telling what Sera is going to say next. Call it intuition or whatever, but you like to think of it is a self-defense mechanism. As much as she is your friend, she does love digging into your personal life like it is the cover story of some shitty tabloid. You have to prepare yourself to be interrogated.

“You’re going to ask about the poem, aren’t you?”

Sera rolls her eyes, like you shouldn’t have even asked. “Duh, of course I am. What else would I want to talk about?”

You shrug your shoulders, pretending to think. “I don’t know. Maybe you could have asked ‘Hey, Y/N! How’s your mom been? Have you been eating and drinking well?’ You know, like a normal person.”

“Well, firstable, your mom is literally my friend on Facebook and I saw her go out to that bougie high tea place with Jennie’s mom the other day, so I know she’s fine,” Sera says as the two of you round a corner, heading closer to the parking lot where her car is. “And secondable, you don’t fucking drink water, because you like pretending to be a dehydrated piece of jerky.”

“I just like drinking apple juice, okay? Water is weird,” you say defensively, kicking a pebble as you walk.

“Nah, you’re weird,” Sera counters, ever the creative debater. She remains undeterred, however. “So. Any updates on the poem situation or am I going to have tickle the details out of you?”

You groan, pushing her away from your sensitive sides. “Please don’t… I have no upper body strength and I won’t be able to push you off!”

“That’s the point.” Sera laughs, pinching your cheek. She snatches her hand away, only narrowly escapes getting bitten by you. “Why don’t we skip my torture methods then and go straight to the juicy bits? It’s been ages since I’ve seen you!”

“What if nothing has happened since I last saw you?” You grumble, miffed that she really isn’t letting it go. You just want to have one relaxing day, is that too much to ask?

Apparently, it is. Relaxation is a rare commodity these days. Sera snorts, patting you condescendingly on the back. “Nonsense. You’ve got that post-mental breakdown glow around you. You look absolutely radiant with stress!”

The conversations pauses for a bit when you make it to the parking lot. You don’t have to walk too far, as her car is parked relatively close to the exit, which is just another display of how lucky Sera often is in comparison to you. While your unfortunate plebeian ass is busy drowning in shit, Sera is off somewhere aboard a yacht, getting a massage from some Instagram thot.

She hops into the driver’s seat, waiting for you to put your seatbelt on before backing out with one hand on the wheel. “McDonalds?” she asks, though it is pretty much a given that is where you are going. The last time you both tried diverging from your usual hang out spot, you got intense food poisoning from eating at Chipotle. Sera came out completely fine though, that lucky bitch.

She continues her questions on the drive there, and you relent by telling her most of what has happened to you over the past few days. You gloss over the argument between Hoseok and Jimin, not really wanting their spat to suddenly go viral on Facebook as well. Everything else, however––

“Wait, so you talked to Kim Namjoon? The Kim Namjoon? The Namjoon that you had an embarrassing crush on during our first year?” Sera laughs maniacally, almost driving off into the wrong lane. Luckily, you are quick to latch onto the wheel, saving the two of you from becoming roadkill.

“Watch where you’re going!”

“No, but Y/N! That’s literally so fucking funny!” Sera’s laughter has simmered to a giggle, despite the fact that she is still trying (and failing) to furtively glance your way when you hit a stoplight. “Is he like how you remember? God, do you remember how you were after you first met him? All starstruck because your senpai showed you a draft of his single? ‘Oh, Sera! He has the most amaaaazing flow! I’m going to suck his di––’”

“Shut up!” You whine, slapping her in embarrassment. “Believe me, that crush has died, along with any respect I may have had for him. Men are scum, and I’m going to only date girls from now on.”

“Fine by me! More dick to suck for me, I guess.” Sera teases, whistling innocently. Bold of her to assume that there is any innocent or pure bone in her body; you’ve seen her thirst tweets and no amount of holy water can cure the disease that your vision must have sustained.

“I just want the rumors to die down… It would make my life way more bearable.” You murmur to yourself, sliding down your seat.

Sera is silent for a while. The McDonalds is just within sight, so Sera waits until she has finished parking before she turns to face you fully, uncanny sincerity in her expression. It unnerves you how serious she is, not when you know that this is the same girl who would snort sugar packets if you bet her $5. She places her hands on your shoulder, fixing you with a meaningful look.

“Listen, Y/N. I know all of this is tough right now, but I’m sure it’s going to be alright, okay? The rumor is going to die down soon enough, and everything will be back to normal. Stay strong for now.” Her voice is soothing, sympathy dripping from every word. As mortifying as it is to admit, the tears flow down your cheek effortlessly; perhaps it is the consequence of having to bear this burden on your own for so long without anyone actually telling you that it’s going to be alright.

“Thanks… I think I needed that,” you say after a while, sniffling just a bit. Sera grins fondly at you, wiping your tears.

“No need to thank me. I may be a chaotic shithead, but I’m also your friend.” She unbuckles her seatbelt, gesturing for you to do the same. “C’mon, let’s go in. I’ll even share my nuggets with you.”

Despite her best efforts at comfort, you still feel a little bummed. You allow yourself to wallow in your self-pity for a bit, as McDonalds is a prime location to feel shitty about your life choices anyway. The heart attack inducing food, the barely hygienic facilities, the minimum wage high school employees… Nothing else screamed “I’d rather be dead but it could also be worse” quite like Mickey D’s often did.

You wait by one of the booths while Sera goes off to order for the both of you, leaving you with her phone and other belongings. She promises to let you eat four out of the twenty nugget pieces, which is asking a lot considering who you are dealing with. Sera could probably eat sixty nuggets if she so desired, but only stops herself so she can be physically well enough to continue being a thot. Chasing men all day requires physical fitness, or so she says.

When you go to place her things on the other side of the booth, you notice that Sera had accidentally left her phone unlocked. You can see that she had been previously looking at one of those popular forum sites for your university, where most of her repertoire of gossip is usually sourced from. You aren’t usually the type to frequent those types of pages, with good reason too. That exact forum is the reason of your current stress, where your most private thoughts and feelings were revealed for all to see. Any sort of positive opinion you might have had for that site was immediately dashed the moment that cursed poem was released into the wild.

It kind of pisses you off that Sera still uses that forum despite knowing how much anxiety it has caused you, but then again, there is only so much you can expect from her. Her appetite for drama and chaos is her way of life, her only other hobby aside from writing. You also vaguely recall her saying that she gathers inspiration for her short stories from some of the more outrageous posts made by your fellow schoolmates.

In the end, curiosity gets the best of you as you stare at the open webpage, tantalizing despite the murkiness that lies within. Oh, lighten up. It’s just a confessions page… Besides, you also kind of want to see what people are saying about your poem, and whether the commotion might have died even slightly over time. (Unlikely, but you remain hopeful.)

“Let’s see,” you murmur to yourself, sneaking glances at the counter to see if Sera is close to ordering. She appears to still be next in line to order, so that might give you enough time to read a few of the comments on the post. It doesn’t take you long to find the original post either, since Sera seems to have been perusing the same thing just beforehand.

“Typical Sera... Sympathetic in the streets, a nosey bitch in the sheets.” You snort, scrolling quickly through the comment section. Nothing seems to be out of the ordinary, except for a few overenthusiastic responses from a couple of people who have bombarded the forum so much that it takes you a few moments to navigate past their thread. You catch a few words here and there, mostly the names of the seven possible muses and not so much the names of any of the possible authors. Honestly, you are more than happy with these turn of events, perfectly content as long as your identity never sees the day where it becomes associated with that disaster piece.

You sort the comments by popularity, wanting to know what everyone’s biggest guesses are. You want to remain hopeful, but as the results start to load, the wave of nausea that suddenly hits you may have been the first warning signal that you should probably stop before you read something that you will regret.

posted by u/SeokjinGod [3d ago]:

[+103, -4] i’m really hoping that kim seokjin is the muse of the poem!! has anyone seen the ads for the new play he’s staring in? he totally looks like the lead actor in a romantic comedy ^^

➾ [+54, -69] psh. that idiot, the muse? PLEASE anyone who has ever worked for kim seokjin KNOWS that it’s physically impossible to form a human connection with that man

➾ [+2, -1] lol seconded

posted by u/namuwuchild [1d ago]:

[+88, -3] WAIT why am i not seeing kim namjoon’s name more often T_T he deserves more love!! stream moonchild or else i’ll bite your ankles

➾ [+1, -6] lol i miss when namjoon used to do actual hiphop… fucking hippie dippie go fuck a tree and some crabs while you’re at it

You sneak a look over your shoulder. Sera is at the front of the line, reciting her orders while the harried employee has to quickly punch in the inordinate amount of food items. Okay… While no one’s looking, time to downvote a couple of these and maybe report some of these assholes… No way in hell are you letting anyone think Moonlight Sonata is about either of those Kim idiots. You would honestly rather out yourself than let anyone think they are worthy of such public displays of love and humiliation.

You are just about to close Sera’s phone and vow never to set foot on social media ever again when the next post catches your eye––the first one where you actually see your name. In fact, your name is generously sprinkled a number of times in this one specific thread.

“Wait a second…” You squint at the top of the thread, reading out the username of the original poster. Is that… Is that your name?!

“User Y/NKook… Oh my god!” You shriek loudly, almost dropping the phone from your sweaty palms. It must be the same person who had organized that merchandise booth in the cafeteria the other week! The number of upvotes on the post isn’t making you feel any better.

posted by u/Y/NKook [3h ago]:

[+98, -5] idk why you noobs are even trying… intellectuals KNOW that y/nkook is real and i won’t take no for an answer… give me my childhood friends to lovers fic RIGHT NOW because this slowburn has been going on for years now and i can’t stand it!!!

➾ [+11, -0] omg op do you know them personally?? how’d you know that they were childhood friends?? i go to the same drama class as y/n and jungkook but they never sit together… are you sure it’s them??

➾ [+20, -1] of course!! they’re even neighbors… besides, haven’t you heard what his nickname is? his friends call him moon eyes for a reason! they say that y/n is the one who gave him that name ^^

You feel your eye twitch, disbelief flooding your senses. Why is this weirdo shipping you with Jungkook? You guys haven’t even spoken properly since elementary school… How does this dude know who you are? Are you being stalked? You whirl your head around, scanning the restaurant for any suspicious people who may or may not be following you. Is this what celebrities feel like when they get shipped with their friends? You feel a sudden surge of respect for them, unable to grasp the situation that you are in. God, you really hope Jungkook hasn’t read any of these.

You go to switch Sera’s phone off, feeling less accomplished than ever before. Maybe it is best to save yourself the anxiety of seeing your world fall apart and try to delude yourself into thinking that the past two weeks have never happened at all. However, there is a certain appeal to reading things that you know you should not, like watching a car crash and unable to look away. The urge to keep scrolling and gaze upon your own personal hell is hard to stop when you have already gained momentum.

“One last post, then I’m done…” You are hard set on that promise, not wanting your apprehension to destroy your peaceful afternoon completely. The next post on the forum greets you with a high upvote number, sending a lick of fear to run down your spine at what you might find. Please don’t be about Y/NKook, you pray helplessly. Little did you know, there are worse things to worry about other than being shipped with your friends.

posted by u/triceratops 👤 [1h ago]:

[+154, -5] hey guys i’m back again with another update! so i’ve managed to shorten the list a bit since last time i posted, and i’m 100% certain that kim seokjin is not the muse! sorry, gamers… our prince is in another castle it seems. worry not, though! that only helps our search better and shortens the list. on the other hand, the authors list has also been edited! turns out that neither jodi nor melody is the author, as they both submitted poems about something else. if you are interested to see the updated lists for both muse and author, please head to my profile and look for the original post titled “Mystery Moon Author & Their Mystery Muse” :-)

You have never clicked on a profile as quickly as you did in that moment. Not even a notification from UberEats could make you move that fast.

Lo and behold, the post that started it all is right at the top of the user’s profile, with the significantly shorter list that they had promised. Sweat begins to build on your temples when you realize that the authors list has decreased to seven names, with your name still obstinately sitting at the end of the lines. When will your suffering end?

There is still something that doesn’t sit right with you, however. As you peruse this user’s profile some more, you feel as if there is something weird about it that you can’t quite place. You never did like using this forum, so maybe you are just not used to the layout of the website? What is it about this user’s profile that is making your stomach coil with nerves?

Wait a second… Why is there an edit button beside their profile picture?

“Y/N! I’m back! Sorry for taking so long; I think I ordered too much again. You’re fine with BBQ sauce on your nuggs, right? That’s all I asked for––” Sera had been happily chirping away, sliding into the bench across from you before finally noticing your stoney face. She pats her face, rubbing her cheeks in confusion. “What? Do I have something on me?”

“How fucking dare you!” You hiss, slamming her phone on the table. Unfortunately, you had accidentally locked the phone in your anger, showing only a black screen.

Sera flinches backwards, bewildered. Her eyes flick to the screen and then to you. “Huh? I thought you liked BBQ sauce on your nuggs? I mean, I can ask for sweet and sour sauce if you want…”

“Unlock your phone right now and explain to me why you have triceratops’ profile logged in.”

Your words begin to click in Sera’s mind. Her face grows pale, her body unconsciously sliding further into the booth to hide from your glare. “U-uh… Haha, what on earth are you talking about..?”

“Don’t even try to lie, Sera. I saw everything, and I honestly don’t know if I’m madder that you betrayed me or that I was stupid enough to believe that you were my friend.”

Sera splutters incomprehensibly at first, waving her arms in panic as she tries to save her ass. “I––! You––! It wasn’t like I––”

You lean forward, peering at her coldly. “Oh yeah? What wasn’t it like? It wasn’t like we were friends?”

“No, of course not! I mean,” she backtracks, tongue-tied. “We are friends! It’s just… I made that post before I knew you were the author and I originally sent the poem to just a couple of people because I was so impressed, and I just wanted to––”

“Hold on,” you interrupt, holding up a finger. She squeaks, staring at you fearfully as you slowly get up to your feet. You cry out, “You were also the one who released my fucking poem to the world?!”

“Anna ou––” Sera whimpers, slapping her palm to her mouth. She lowers it, whispering ruefully. “I… didn’t mean to say that…”

“Oh, so you were meaning to lie to me even more?” You seethe, ready to burst into flames.

The poor McDonalds employee who had come to deliver your order to your table seems too frightened to approach the two of you, her arms shaking both with fear and the weight of five orders of 20 piece chicken nuggets. “Uh, is this a bad time?” The girl asks, eyes darting away from your heated glare.

Instead of answering, you grab the tray from her hands and dump the contents on the table. Sera squawks pitifully when a few of the nuggets fall to the ground, though she absolutely yells when you start chucking them at her head like tiny oily cannonballs.

“What the fuck––Dude stop!” Sera has her arms up in defense, shielding her face from your fiery attack. The sound of you ripping open a BBQ sauce packet has her straightening up, however. “No, not the BBQ sauce! Anything but that!”

“Give me one reason why I should show you mercy.” Your hand is poised to pour the sticky sauce all over her white Valentino bag, ready at a moment’s notice.

“Please, Y/N! I’m really sorry!” Sera jumps out of the booth, and goes on her knees. She clasps her hands together, shaking them frantically. “I really didn’t know it was you at first!”

“Well then, why didn’t you fucking take the post down the moment you did know it was me? I thought you were my friend!” You clench your fist around the BBQ sauce packet, causing some of it to spill onto her bag. She makes a desperate noise.

“I just… I like the attention?” She knows this is the wrong answer, judging by your unimpressed expression. She sighs heavily, head bowed in shame. “Look, I’ll fix this, alright? I genuinely didn’t do this wanting to hurt you… I just got so caught up in the clout that I didn’t really think about what would happen if you found out!”

“‘If’ I found out, huh…” You echo, more disappointed than angry now. You slump back into your chair, taking care to grab the napkins and cleaning the sticky mess on your skin as best as you can. “You really were going to continue doing this for as long as it took, huh?”

“I’m really sorry, Y/N.” Her voice is soft, repentant. It doesn’t do much for your sympathy, however.

“Fuck you, honestly. If you really are sorry, you’ll fix this mess as soon as possible.”

You reach for your bag, your movements jostling a few more nuggets to tumble to the floor. You don’t bother saying goodbye, not wanting to see if Sera is doing her Crying Face Emoji impression to try and soften you up. Not this time. This time… you don’t think your feelings can recover after this.

You have read enough stories about heartbreak and longing, but you don’t think any of them top the experience of losing a friend you realize you never even had.

The next morning, there is a new post on the forum from user triceratops.

posted by u/triceratops 👤 [0s ago]:

[+0, -0] Hello, friends. I think I’ve found the author.

It’s Lee Sera.

399 notes · View notes

pinesconessecrets · 5 years ago

Text

Secret Santa for Trustintoast

((Happy Holidays @trustintoast ! I’m your secret santa! You wanted “Awkward Nerd Love”, mixed with “Casual Everyday”, and “Pinescone vs. Disney World”, So I tried to combine them a little. I’m sorry that it’s Disneyland, instead of World–I’ve only been to DisneyWorld once, but I’ve been to DL multiple times, so I thought it would be easier to explain. I’m also sorry that I cut it much shorter. I wanted to make sure you got your gift, but I initially had more planned with them at the park. I hope you still like it. And if not, I could come back and fix it up for you. Thank you for the wait. I hope you had a happy holidays. Enjoy your gift!))

—

“Sunscreen?”

“Check!”

“Change of Clothes?”

“Double Check!”

“Money for Souvenirs?”

“Triple Check!”

“Backpacks for everyone to carry their supplies?”

“Check Check Check! We’re good babe.”

“Well, I would expect nothing less from my favorite organizer.”

The man in the passenger seat blushed at the compliment, hiding behind his phone.

From the backseat came, “I want to get some Mickey Mouse Ears!” followed by a thump thump thump!

The driver scowled in the rearview mirror at his brother, “Greg, we’ll get you your Mickey Mouse ears, but please stop kicking the back of my seat. It’s not going to make me drive any faster.”

Another voice from the backseat exclaimed, “I WANT BABY YODA!!!” followed by an even louder THUMP THUMP THUMP!

“Ahhh! Mabel, what are you, five? Don’t kick the back of my seat!”

“Why do you get shot gun, Dip n Dots!” The female voice, now identified as Mabel Pines, pouted.

“Because I’m the one with the map!” The passenger, her twin brother Dipper Pines, explained.

“Your map is literally your phone, open to google maps! Anyone of us could have done it.”

“But no one would look as cute as Dipper,” The driver, Wirt, said with a light dusting of pink on his cheeks.

“Ewwwww, gag me with a spoon!” Mabel groaned, sinking into her seat.

“No being gross and mushy on this trip,” The last rider, Greg, huffed. He gave his brother’s seat another thorough kick.

“Hey! Greg! Knock it off! I can still turn this car around!” Wirt warned.

Greg rolled his eyes, leaning over to whisper in Mabel’s ear, “Yeah right. We’re stuck in traffic. We’re not going anywhere.” Mabel snickered.

“I heard that!”

The two backseat passengers snapped to attention, biting their bottom lip to keep from further chortling.

“Also, we’re going to Disneyland, the “happiest place on earth!” I think a little mushiness is to be expected,” Dipper said, turning to look back at his sister.

“Yeah, but we’re in a car for the next 2 hours, and if I have to listen to you two flirt, I think I’d rather walk the rest of the way.”

“You’re just bitter cause you have no one to flirt with.” Mabel gasped, a hand to her chest, “You wound me dear brother! How dare you say such slanderous and true words!”

Dipper rolled his eyes, turning back in his seat.

“Hey! Why aren’t we playing Disney music? This is a road trip to Disneyland! Shouldn’t we be jamming out to some classic hits?” Mabel leaned forward, trying to grab the aux cord.

Dipper smacked her hands away, “Ugh, no Mabel! How tacky can you get!”

“You’re tacky!” Mabel snapped back.

“YEAH, I AGREE, THIS CAR IS TOO QUIET! WE NEED SOME DISNEY MUSIC!” Greg shouted, siding with Mabel.

“We’re going to be there for hours! We’ll get plenty of Disney cheer at the park,” Wirt tried to protest. He just knew that if they played that music, he’d wind up with a headache.

But both his and Dipper’s words were quickly drowned out by the two excitable chantings of “Disney Music! Disney Music! Disney Music!”

“They’re not going to stop…” Dipper muttered.

Wirt groaned, wanting to slam his head on the steering wheel, “I know…”

Dipper whipped back around, glaring, “Fine, you heathens! You win!”

“YAY!!!!”

“YAY!!!!” The two simultaneously cheered.

Mabel leaned back over, triumphantly taking the aux cord as her prize, and plugged it in to her bedazzled phone. She turned the volume up to the max.

“Hawaiian Roller Coaster Ride” from Lilo and Stitch filled the car.

Dipper slammed his head back into the headrest, “Hooray~” He droned.

Mabel sneered evilly, “Oh don’t pretend like you hate it Dipstick! In fact, If I remember, I believe it was you who wanted to play the Frozen 2 soundtrack in the car, on the way back from the theatre.”

Dipper lit up like a Christmas Tree. He began stuttering weakly in Wirt’s direction, as if trying to save face, “T-that’s only because the soundtrack was really good this time, and had an air of folk that the first movie severely lacked. It made Frozen 2 feel more genuine to the original story. I was just really impressed this time–”

“Right…Right…Oh but wait…which song was your favorite again?” Mabel asked, putting a finger to her cheek, pretending to think. Then that wicked smile returned, full force, “Oh yeah! It was “Lost in the Woods”!”

“Mabel, NO! STOP! Have mercy!”

But there was no mercy for those who cursed Disney music.

“Wait…which one was Lost in the Woods again?” Wirt asked. He thought back to the movie, trying to remember which of those songs would be Dipper’s favorite. Was it the lullaby song? Or the one Elsa sang?

Mabel and Greg’s eyes sparkled with ill intent; Dipper ducked low into his seat, but there was no escaping, no hiding.

Not when Mabel had control of the radio. And with that innocent question, the song that followed was an 80’s-esque rock ballad.

“Oh…Oh. Y-yeah…this makes sense,” Even Wirt couldn’t hide the slight curl of his lips. He cast his boyfriend a sidelong glance.

Dipper looked out his window, longingly. He wondered if it wasn’t too late to throw himself out of the passenger side door, into oncoming vehicles.

…But they were stuck in the deadlock of traffic, so that plan was quickly, and regretfully, forgotten.

—

“Hi, can I get 8 breakfast Jack meals–”

“Wirt, I want pancakes!” Greg whined.

“Greg, they don’t serve pancakes–” “Actually they do. You can do the mini pancakes, or the Jumbo Breakfast platter,” Mabel pointed out.

Wirt looked at the menu, eyebrows rising, “Wow, when did they add that?” It had been a very long time since he’d eaten here. This fast food chain was more recognizable in the west coast then the east.

“I want the Jumbo Breakfast!” Greg shook the driver’s seat.

“Greg, are you going to finish that? I don’t want to buy something unless you’re sure you’ll eat it.”

“Silly ol brother o’ mine, I’m a growing boy! I can totally eat all that,” Greg patted his stomach like it was a djembe drum. His stomach growled back, as if to second it’s owner’s proclamation.

Wirt muttered dejectedly to himself, “And the syrup in the car…that’s just an accident waiting to happen…”

“Sir…you’re holding up the line…” the timid voice on the speaker mumbled.

“Yes, I’m sorry. I’m very sorry! Just give me one more minute,” Wirt apologized; he didn’t expect breakfast to be this stressful. He was almost certain that when he was little, ordering breakfast on a road trip was a simple endeavor.

Then again, Wirt easily accepted what his parent’s ordered for him.

“Can I order a milkshake?”

“Mabel, It’s 7:30 in the morning,” Wirt looked at her in abject horror.

“…And?” Mabel so eloquently put it.

“Guys, come on, can’t we just make it simple?…Dipper you’re fine with what I ordered, right?”

Dipper flashed his lover a guilty smile, “Well, um, actually, I was going to ask if I could order from the lunch menu instead…I prefer their lunch over their breakfast…”

Wirt was utterly betrayed, “E tu?”

Dipper put his hands together, mumbling a soft, but pleading, “Sorry, and thank you!”

Wirt sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Everyone hurry up and tell me what you want–exactly what you want! Because I really don’t want to waste this poor lady’s time any further, and the cars behind me are starting to angrily honk their horns.”

And suddenly the car was filled with a cacophony of different requests.

“One at a time! One at a time!” Wirt cried, trying to figure out whose request was who’s.

Was this what it was going to be like from now one, being the driver of a road trip? Endless chatter, constant bickering, and indecision when ordering food–topped off by off key singing to the same playlist for the next couple hours. Oh this was not looking good for his sanity.

“…Sir…” the voice on the headset whimpered, sounding even smaller.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Just one more second. I promise!”

The car behind him rammed their horn. When Wirt peeked in the rearview window, he could see an elderly woman flipping him the bird.

—

When he pulled up to the window, the lady who handed him the food was shaking, her eyes big and fearful. She shrunk back when Wirt took the bags from her hands, as if she was expecting him to yell at her.

Wirt understood that anxiety so well, he once more apologized for the commotion, and slipped a 20 dollar tip into her hand.

When he pulled away, the lady seemed a little less on edge.

—

An hour later, and Wirt’s resistance was starting to crumple.

After 20 songs, food sitting comfortably in his belly, and more than a couple loving looks from his boyfriend, Wirt was beginning to enjoy the ride.

He even did the unthinkable, and turned up the dial on the radio when “I Just Can’t Wait to be King” started up. The look of shock– quickly followed by glee– from his family’s faces was priceless.

And when he joined in singing “When Will my Life Begin” with the rest of them, he knew he was doomed.

Goodbye Sanity. T’was nice knowing you. Come back soon.

—

As soon as they arrived, Wirt had to keep a tight hold on the back of Greg’s shirt, because the teen was desperately trying to run off.

“Greg, I don’t care if you’re 13 now, you stay by my side until we get inside the park. I don’t want to lose you on the bus, or have some weirdo try to kidnap you.”

“Ugh, Wirt, stop treating me like a child–” Greg huffed.

“Well, you have a habit of getting us into trouble,” Wirt said, though he quickly realized the person usually getting them into trouble was himself.

“No you!” Greg snapped, though his smirk was playful.

“No You!” Wirt snapped back, also smiling.

They stuck their tongues out at one another.

Meanwhile, Mabel was dragging her brother violently towards the buses, her excitement having reached critical, “Come on Dipper, quit dragging your feet! We’re here!!! Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!”

“Mabel, stop pulling, I need to tie my shoe. I’m gonna trip. M-Mabel! Wirt, help me! She’s gone mad!”

“Mabel Madness! I’M COMING FOR YOU BABY YODA, YOU WILL BE MINE!” Mabel cackled, sounding like a disney villain.

“Wirt!!!!”

—

“Okay, so we should start at heading for Adventure Island and work our way around,” Wirt traced the map with his finger, showing their destined path.

“I think we should go counterclockwise, cause the more popular rides will get populated in the evening, as more guests arrive,” Dipper argued, tracing the map opposite Wirt.

“BABY YODA! We gotta start with Galaxy’s Edge, because that’s going to be the most crowded of all! We want to get in a few rides early,” Mabel chimed in, vigorously pointing at the newest area.

The three bickered about what to do, until they realized there was one more person with them, and turned to Greg to be the tie breaker.

Greg looked at the three expectant faces, trying to decide who would be the right choice.

He should side with his brother…but then again, Dipper was well organized…on the other hand, Mabel was his best friend…but Wirt usually knew best…but Dipper and Mabel had been to Disney before…but– “Um…Um…Maybe, we could…flip a coin?” Greg finally suggested.

The three young adults groaned.

“Greg, there’s three of us, and there’s no such thing as a three sided coin,” Wirt reprimanded.

Greg squinted at his brother, then turned to address the twins, “Well then we’ll flip for Mabel and Dipper’s plan, since Wirt has been eliminated from making a choice.”

“Hey! Wait! What? Greg!”

—

Galaxy’s Edge was packed when the four walked through the gates. Like a can of sardines, the group shuffled slowly through the crowds, trying not to get separated. Wirt kept one hand tightly on his brother’s, while the other hand clung to the back of Dipper’s jacket. The waving bodies made him feel nauseous and claustrophobic, but he swallowed it back, determined not to get sick so early in the day.

Everything would be fine as long as they stuck together.

At least, until Mabel saw her baby yoda plush hanging from one of the open stall shops–at which point, she made a mad dash for the store, barreling a way through. Many people ducked out of her way as she ravenously charged for her prize.

Within seconds, the path she had carved was swallowed up by the park goers.

“Mabel, get back here!” Dipper yelled, but she was already gone. “Wirt, can you–?”

He didn’t need to be asked twice. Wirt craned his head to keep his eyes on her. It wasn’t hard when she was wearing a glittery red sweater, and matching sparkly headband.

However, just as he spotted her long brown hair fluttering, he felt his brother’s hand slip out of his hold.

He whipped his head back around, catching a glimpse of green as his brother slipped under people’s legs, heading towards the giant Millennium Falcon building

“Greg! W-wait! Get back here!” His voice croaked– but just like his brother, and Dipper’s sister–it was swallowed up by the crowd.

Panic began to bubble up in his stomach. Wild thoughts flitted through his head–one after the other, each one worse than the last. Getting lost in a big place like this– this was not good! And Dipper was dragging him in one direction, while his brother was running in the other. He stuttered over his tongue, trying to find the words to stop them, but bit his tongue in the process. The bodies swayed to and fro, pushing him and pulling him; his hands were clammy, and he could feel his own grip loosening. The feeling of anxiety mounted, as his vision grew spotty.

Not good, not good, not good, not– Dipper intertwined their fingers, squeezing, and all the previous anxieties melted away. They were stopped in the middle of the walkway, with a few annoyed people passing them by, but Dipper was looking at him with a composed smile. Dipper wasn’t often composed–they were both nervous, stuttering messes in the worst of situations. But right now, seeing Dipper’s relaxed composition, and having the man’s hands tightly holding his, he could see those few glimpses of bravery, of excitement and calculated analytics–one of the many reasons he fell for the man in front of him.

“Don’t worry, everyone’s got cell phones. Nothing’s going to happen. We’ll grab Mabel, and then find Greg. He’s right, you know? He’s not a baby anymore–you don’t have to worry so much about him. It’s going to be okay Wirt, just breathe. I’m here. We’re going to have fun today, I promise. So relax, and just breathe.”

Those simple words were a great start, though Wirt knew it was still going to take some convincing.

He took a deep inhale through his nose, releasing a shaky exhale from his mouth.

“Right…fun. We’re here to have fun.” He inhaled once more; his second exhale was steadier, “…Okay. Let’s go save the poor sales clerk from your sister.”

Dipper’s smile turned to something more bubbly; it was clear he was just as excited to be here as the other two. After all, this was Dipper’s whole childhood, of course he would be geeking out–especially when his favorite franchise finally had its own area. But he was still trying to stay cool for his lover, and Wirt truly appreciated that level headedness right now. Dipper squeezed Wirt’s hand one more time for boosted confidence.

The bodies swayed, but Dipper and Wirt swayed with them, keeping afloat in the massive ocean of Star Wars fans.

—

From there, the group went from each area to the next, riding the different attractions, and exploring the many stores offered. Lines were long, sometimes 40 minutes long, but the group kept distracted with playful banner, and dumb word games.

Mabel lugged her new Yoda doll in her arms, cradling it like a newborn baby. Dipper swore he could even hear her cooing to it from time to time.

Greg ate a churro that was sprinkled with blue candy powder–the “light side” churro saber.

Wirt was spooning the last of his frozen lemonade into his mouth, reluctantly wearing a pair of Sorcerer’s apprentice, Mickey Mouse ears that Greg had put on him.

Dipper stared at his family, feeling a calming bliss that he often didn’t get to experience by himself. As he watched his family, trying to decide where to go next, what to do next, Dipper blessed his lucky stars–When you wish upon a star playing in the back of his mind–that he had such a perfectly crazy, but loving family.

Wirt looked over, noticing Dipper’s stare, and he smiled bashfully, cheeks pink. “What are you looking at?”

“Nothing, just…I’m having a good time,” Dipper replied.

“Even with this heat, and this crowd?” Wirth inquired.

Dipper leaned his head briefly on Wirt’s shoulder, and for a second–just a second– he braced his hands around Wirt’s arm, holding him like they were a lovesick, brand new couple, “Yeah…Is it preemptive to say that I don’t want this day to end?”

Wirt laughed, the blush rising to the tips of his ears, “Well, it’s barely noon, there’s still plenty of time left in the day–so, yes. But I think I know what you mean.” Wirt ducked down, kissing Dipper’s sweat soaked, bang covered, forehead, “For my first time here…I thought it was going to be a lot worse. But I got to say, with you and Mabel here–it’s still pretty hectic…but much more enjoyable.”

Dipper’s eyes widened, “This is your first time here at Disney?” “Dipper, I lived in Massachusetts for most of my childhood! Of course it is!”

Dipper eyes started to sparkle, “Well then, I got a lot of lasting memories to leave you with.” He liked the challenge already.

Seeing the adorable, childlike expression on the 19 year old, made Wirt laugh even harder, “Well I look forward to seeing what you pull off!”

Dipper started babbling excitedly, “Oh man, we have to go on the Matterhorn next! It’s pretty fast, and a little wild, but really fun. And it’s two to a seat…so maybe you and I could share a—AH! Ohhh, I just remembered. The matterhorn macaroons are the best–you have to try them, although that’s located at the Jolly Holiday Bakery! But we’ll make sure to get some. I’ve got the perfect plan for hitting all the rides and best locations in the most amount of time, even with the long lines. Hmm, I guess I have to show you “It’s a Small World”–it’s not super fun–kinda annoying, but it’s a Disneyland staple. But if we’re going by Disney staples, then we gotta do Big Thunder Mountain, Splash Mountain, and Space Mountain. Ohhh I gotta figure out what to do for lunch. There’s so many good choices–but also really crappy ones, so be careful. Don’t worry, me and Mabel know the best…Mabel–Hey, hey, Mabel! Where should we go to lunch!? It’s Greg and Wirt’s first time at Disney! We gotta make it special! Mabel, did you hear me?”

Hearing that it was their first time, Mabel squealed excitedly, and began babbling alongside her brother, the two practically speaking codes. Greg and Wirt watched the two in amazement, both intrigued, and horrified–well, mostly Wirt is horrified– at the shift in fanatics.

“I wanna go on Indiana Jones! And Oh, Pirates of the Carribean, we have to ride that too! I wanna see Jack Sparrow! Hey, hey Wirt, should we get autographs since we never got them before?” Greg chimed in, the enthusiasm contagious. This gets Dipper and Mabel squawking even more eagerly.

“Is it true that they have giant Turkey legs here? And something called “Hidden Mickeys?” Wirt asked, trying to keep up with the rest of his family. He didn’t want to feel so out of the loop, but maybe playing along was a little much, considering the effect it was having.

The twins looked like they’re going to explode at this point, ready to burst with all their Disney trivia and knowledge.

Wirt sighed, mumbling softly to himself, “I’m just thankful I didn’t plan a trip to Disneyworld. I’m scared to see you guys planning out your day there.”

The conversation stopped dead. Dipper and Mabel turned, eyes wide, pupils dilating. Wirt realized too late, that they had heard him.

And suddenly, the conversation turned to plans for next year, and tickets to Florida, and overnight stays at cheap hotels. Epicot, and Animal Kingdom, and the water parks in summer–all the special foods and treats that Magic Kingdom had over Disneyland. His mumblings had gotten Greg excited, thinking they were really planning to go there next summer.

The idea was ludicrous, but watching Dipper’s face, red with nervous joy, the gleam in his eyes, and his dimples deepening as he laughed, the idea didn’t seem so irrational.

Although, Wirt would prefer a trip with just the two of them, if they were to do something that huge. Much as he loved his brother and Mabel, a place that big would be too much stress, and Wirt would really just like to focus on one thing at a time: that one thing being Dipper, in this instance.

In order to stop the delusions from continuing and hope from blossoming, Wirt clapped his hands, and declared, “Before we start making plans for next year, let’s worry about today. We’re only burning daylight if we stand here talking about what ifs. Dipper, you promised you’d make today memorable, so let’s make some memories. I…I want to know more about this…Matterhorn macaroon.”

It sounded strangely mature, but also incredibly dorky. He flushed as the words left his mouth.

But Mabel had run and taken Greg’s hand, dragging him off, and Dipper had wrapped his arm around Wirt’s, pulling him along, which must have meant that his little speech had worked.

He didn’t know what was going to happen next, or if today would be anymore hectic–of course it is, Wirt, you’re at a theme park, and you don’t even like rides–but, if nothing else, today would be an adventure.

And Wirt quickly learned through dating Dipper Pines, that any adventure, big or small, was always going to be worthwhile, so long as they were tackling it together. And unlike Gravity Falls, there was likely to be less crazy, paranormal anomalies happening around them; they were less likely to get hurt, or fall into danger here at Disneyland–hopefully.

They would cross that castle bridge when they got to it.

#pinescone #pinescone secret santa #Wirt #Dipper #submission

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