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wildrangers · 10 months ago

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The Planets and the Fates and All the Stars Aligned // William Nylander

Word Count: 3.5K

Summary: The three times Willy almost asked you out and the one time he finally did

{This is my submission for the lovely @jackhues for The Winter Fic Exchange 2k24, organized by the amazing @wyattjohnston!}

Warnings/tropes: mutual pining, poor communication, resolved (minor) angst, fluff, cursing, drinking

You were grateful that Auston was taking you under his wing following your big move to Toronto—seriously. It was better to be at a New Year’s Eve party where you knew all of one person rather than alone in your apartment. Though…there were a lot of loud drunk men at this party which wasn’t your favorite vibe. You’d much prefer enjoying a nice cocktail with a view of Toronto over being stuffed in one of Tony’s teammate’s suburban homes. But really—you were grateful for Auston and this somewhat odd built in social network that came with him.

You were drawn from your thoughts by a cheer from the pong table and you couldn’t help but chuckle at the intense excitement of the younger guys currently facing off there. You flipped your wrist around to see the time again just as a large, familiar hand landed on your shoulder.

“That’s at least the fifth time you’ve checked the time since we got here…what, an hour ago?” Auston teased, grinning as he took the seat next to you.

“It’s only the fourth” you grumbled making Auston raise his hands in surrender.

“My apologies for the slander, miss.”

You rolled your eyes and jostled your shoulder into his before settling your head there instead. “I’m just tired from the move and everyone here seems very…extroverted?” you tried, not wanting to speak poorly of the group you barely knew.

“Look, I get it” he replied, ruffling your hair gently. “Can I please get you a drink now? At least your hands will be busy then.”

You nodded against his shoulder before raising your head so he could go grab your favorite drink. You were surprised when his place was quickly filled by a blonde-haired boy with mischievous blue eyes.

“You must be Julia, I’m Willy” he smiled, offering his hand for you to shake. You smirked, gripping his hand in your own. You were not, in fact, Julia, but this should be entertaining.

“Nice to meet you, Willy. I hope Auston hasn’t said anything too horrific about me.”

“Oh no, nothing like that. I just wanted to make sure I talked to you before things got too serious with him.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I mean a gorgeous girl like yourself should know that I am available and a much, much better catch” he stated confidently and you threw your head back with laughter.

“Well, I may as well hear the sales pitch now” you smirked, pleasantly surprised by the tipsy man before you.

“I mean first of all” he said, simply pointing to his hairline, which drew a gasp from your mouth as you whacked his arm, “I’m just saying!”

“What are you ‘just saying’ to my cousin, William?”

Will’s blue eyes widened as he processed Auston’s words. “Wait so you’re…not Julia?”

Auston handed you your drink, “No, this is Y/N, weirdo. I was going to bring Julia to dinner tomorrow night but maybe I won’t now. How long did she have you going?”

“Long enough to put my foot in my mouth” he admitted and you smirked, pleased at the pink tinge rising to his cheeks. “But not so long that I can’t recover?” he questioned.

“Stay tuned” you replied, maintaining eye contact as you took a sip of your drink. Luckily, Auston was called away leaving just you two again.

“I swear, I’m not usually like that” he began and you tilted your head slightly.

“Like what?”

He seemed at a loss for words so you chuckled, “You’re fine, I’ll stop fucking with you now. You were just so confidently wrong, I had to see where things went.”

He chuckled to himself, “Confidently wrong is kind of a good summary for me actually…”

“The great William Nylander? No, I’d say most the time your confidence is probably just right.”

“You even knew who I was and still let me make a fool of myself?!”

You giggled and nodded, “I obviously know who you are, I watch as many of Ton’s games as I can. You’re usually playing in them too.”

“Wait, so rewind. You’re Tony’s cousin?”

“Not by blood, but yeah. We grew up together and our families are super close. He’s been trying to get me out here forever, so when a better job opened up in my company’s Toronto location, how could I say no?”

“When did you move?”

You jokingly checked your watch, “About eight hours ago now.”

“Oh well, welcome! I love it here.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah” he nodded, sipping his drink and you couldn’t help how your eyes were drawn to his mouth with the movement. “I moved around so much as a kid; this is the longest I’ve ever lived in one place. Minus summers in Sweden, obviously”

“I would love to go to Sweden” you admitted. “It looks so beautiful.”

As he began passionately talking about Sweden, conversation flowed seamlessly between you. He seemed genuinely interested in your answers to the questions he asked, eyes always remaining firmly on you in a way that made your stomach flip but also steadied you in the otherwise loud room.

You were dragged from your conversation as the countdown to the New Year began.

“Damn, it’s almost midnight already?” you questioned, checking your watch that had long since been forgotten.

“Guess so…do you want to ring in the New Year together?” Will asked and you were surprised by the tentative tone of his voice. Your eyes rose to meet his and you noted the nerves showing in the crinkle of his eyes.

“Yeah, sure” you smiled, scootching closer to him. “I have to admit, I’m surprised you didn’t seem confident I’d say yes.”

“I mean I wouldn’t want to come in too hot, making assumptions—that would be embarrassing, no?” he joked as he wrapped a tender arm around your shoulders.

“Of course, wouldn’t want to make that same mistake twice in one evening” you teased back and you earned a rich laugh from him that made your toes curl and you dipped your head to hide your grin. As the countdown entered single digits, your eyes rose to meet his again but he was focused somewhere just beyond your shoulder before turning his attention back to you.

“3…2…1…Happy New Year!” the room erupted but your world had shrunk to just you and Willy. You had a sneaking suspicion it had been Auston who briefly grabbed his attention from you, which was confirmed as he leaned in to place a gentle kiss to your cheek rather than going in for the kiss. You were disappointed until you felt his mouth brush your ear, sending a shiver down your spine, “Happy New Year, Y/N.”

***

Once Will had given the bottle of wine and his thanks to Mitch and Stephanie for hosting, his eyes were scanning the room for you. He’d been kicking himself for months since meeting you for not getting your number on New Year’s but Auston’s stern stare had scared him off, as embarrassed as he was to admit it. He just hadn’t wanted to risk his friendship with his teammate, or worse, make you uncomfortable since you’d just met. Plus, the firm “If you hurt her, you’re dead to me” lecture Auston had given him the next day at practice had driven the point home.

So, some combination of your new job and Auston’s protectiveness had kept you away from any team, family, and friends get together’s until now, just as the regular season was wrapping up. Just as he had begun to give up hope that he’d see you again, Mitch mentioned that Auston had RSVP’d for 3 people, you and a plus one that he assumed was whatever girl Tony was currently seeing. Will didn’t waste another minute before confirming his own attendance.

His heart sped up as he saw you chatting with Johnny, your body language so much more relaxed than when he met you months ago. He made his way to you and when your eyes met his, the broad grin you sent his way knocked him out.

“Willy!” you called, standing to greet him with a warm hug.

“Hey, it’s been too long, how have you been?” he asked, pulling away just far enough to take you in. “You look beautiful tonight, of course.”

He was rewarded with a dip of your head as you hid your shy smile at his compliment, “I’ve been good, busy, so I’m glad Tony mentioned this dinner, it’s nice to see everyone.”

A long pause filled the air as he simply gazed into your warm, smiling eyes. “Hey Willy, I’m here too” his captain called from behind you and Willy laughed, greeting him with a handshake.

“Sorry man, it’s just been a minute since I’ve seen Y/N here” he shrugged sheepishly. John nodded, clapping him on the back, “Since New Year’s, yeah?”

Will shot him a questioning look but Johnny only smirked before walking off to chat with another group.

“Will, you’ve been having such an amazing season, I’m so happy for you” you smiled, settling back down in your seat and patting the spot next to you. He quickly sat where directed, pleased that the small couch made his outer thigh gently press into yours—he was even more content when you didn’t shift your leg away but closer to his.

“Thanks, I appreciate it. Just trying to gear up for the Playoff’s now. How have you been, settling in well?”

As you two caught up with small talk, he wracked his brain on how to ask you out without making it weird in case you said no. This conversation flowed just as well as your first and your sly humor shone through even more now that you seemed more at ease.

“I’ve missed seeing you at other parties like this” he admitted when the conversation naturally lulled.

“I think Auston may have refrained from inviting me to a few” you admitted, rolling your eyes. “And then the last few just didn’t work with my schedule. I was happy when Ton mentioned you’d be here tonight though.”

“Yeah?” he asked, hopeful as his heart began pattering more intensely.

“Yeah” you grinned, knocking your shoulder into his. “I really enjoyed hanging with you last time.”

“Me too” he smiled, taking in the genuine joy on your face. “I was actually wondering…”

He trailed off as he saw your eyes shift behind him and widen. “Jake!” you called, standing up and waving over an unfamiliar guy who wrapped you in an embrace and quickly pecked your cheek.

“Hey pretty lady, sorry I’m a little late. The subway got delayed” he replied, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ears. “Is this Will?”

As introductions were made, Will’s heart sank as he realized your boyfriend was the plus one, not Auston’s girl. It looked like he’d missed his chance with you after all.

***

You worked your way through the crowd, pausing as people you’d grown close to since your move to Toronto stopped you to chat. Johnny and his wife were hosting the start of the season party, welcoming everyone back to Toronto after being wherever they called home in the off season. You were hoping Will would be here but had refrained from asking Auston to avoid his eye rolls and protective bullshit.

When you’d seen Will at that spring party, you couldn’t admit to him that you’d partially been avoiding him. Not because you didn’t like him, but the opposite—you’d felt so drawn to him on New Year’s only to have Auston insert himself in the middle of things. After enough time had passed, you’d finally let your coworker set you up on that blind date with Jake. Who was nice but had basically been wiped from your mind when you’d met Will’s eyes across the room that second night.

You’d let yourself get wrapped up in the press of his leg on yours, the intense focus of his eyes as you caught up. Had allowed yourself to slip into the flirtation that had flowed so naturally between you during your first meeting. Until Jake had arrived, and you’d noted Will deflate before excusing himself.

You’d seen him a few times since then but he kept a wide berth, which you understood. But it had sucked and drove home that as nice as Jake is, he wasn’t the one for you. Which is why, several months out from that split, you were determined to make your move on Will—enough with waiting.

You grabbed a drink and surveyed the room, heart fluttering as you heard Willy’s signature laugh from across the room. He was talking with a younger guy you didn’t recognize but you strode over anyway. “Will!” you called and he spun, wide-eyed, at your voice.

“Y/N?” he smiled uncertainly but you just pulled him into a tight embrace.

“How was your summer? Tell me all about Sweden” you grinned, quickly introducing yourself to the rookie beside him who made himself scarce.

“Sure, but you seem…different” he noted, scanning your form as if he could find the answer there.

“Do I? I mean, not much has changed except Jake and I broke up” you offered and his eyes widened slightly.

“I’m sorry?” he offered.

“Don’t be. He was nice but it just wasn’t it, you know?”

He nodded, eyes skimming around the room before pulling out his phone. “Here, let me show you some photos from back home.”

You leaned into the comfort of his warmth, your eyes either taking in each photo he selected to show you or tracing the familiar lines of his face as he swiped through his camera roll. He was just so beautiful.

“It looks like a great summer, are you bummed to be back?” you joked and he chuckled, shaking his head.

“No, I always love coming back to Toronto—this is home too” he replied, eyes boring into yours. You couldn’t help yourself as you reached up to sweep a strand of hair that had fallen into his face, your hand lingering there, cupping his cheek.

“Y/N…” he breathed and you were surprised when his eyes left yours to once again scan the room. His phone lit up, drawing your attention, just as he began. “I actually am…”

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry” you cut him off, drawing your hand back, eyes fixed on his lock screen—a gorgeous shot of him with a beautiful woman tucked into his side.

His gaze followed yours and he quickly locked his phone screen, mouth forming a hard line. “No, I’m sorry. I should have been up front but whenever I see you, I just…”

“You just what?” you asked quietly, unable to stop yourself.

“I can only think of keeping you close. Even when I know I can’t, so I’m sorry.”

You sadly shook your head forcing a smile, “No, I did the same thing to you, didn’t I? I get it. I hope she makes you happy Will, have a great season” you assured him, squeezing his shoulder before excusing yourself from the party altogether.

***

Will wasn’t one to believe in fate but it seemed like the stars may be finally aligning as he entered Auston’s apartment to celebrate New Year’s Eve. He’d done his homework this time, enlisting Steph to make sure you weren’t seeing anyone. After your last encounter, his fledgling relationship hadn’t lasted long—not when all he could think about was you. That wasn’t fair to her, so he’d broken things off and thrown himself into the season. It was a contract year for him, he had to focus. But that focus didn’t stop him from noting that some of his best games were ones where he knew you’d be in the crowd.

Will wandered over to the large windows filling Ton’s living room, taking in the city skyline. He’d done a few laps but had yet to see you. Truth be told, he wasn’t in much of a party mood—he just wanted to see you. So, he wondered off from the main party down the hallway to what he knew to be Ton’s guest room for some quiet. He didn’t hear any noise from behind the door so he gently opened it, startling when he saw you curled up on the bed.

You hadn’t noticed the door opening, your head buried in a book with Taylor Swift playing softly from your phone. He took a moment to enjoy the sight before him—you, dressed to the nine’s, feet wrapped in fuzzy socks, eyes fervently scanning the pages before you, heels forgotten beside him by the door.

“Y/N?” he spoke softly, as to not startle you but you jumped anyway.

“Will?” you questioned, your head tilting to the side. “What are you doing here?”

“The New Year’s Eve party, silly, what are you doing locked away in here looking so beautiful?”

He was thrilled when you ducked your head, trying to hide the flattered smile that bloomed on your face. “Promise not to laugh.”

“Scout’s honor” he promised, settling on the foot of the bed.

“I’m on the last book of this fantasy series and I just wanted to make sure everyone got through the battle okay” you chuckled, holding up your nearly finished book. “I said hi to everyone but when I didn’t see you, I just wondered in here to try and finish it before midnight.”

“Well, is everyone safe and sound? I wouldn’t want to disturb you” he teased lightly and you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, I have like ten pages left” you chuckled. “I’ll come out and join the party in a few, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry” he shrugged, standing up but then stopped himself. “Would you actually care if I hung in here with you? I’m not in much of a party mood.”

“Sure” you beamed, scooting over on the bed to make room for him beside you. He slipped his shoes off, crawling up the bed to settle into your side, arm wrapped around your middle as you lifted your book.

“Is this okay?” he questioned quietly and you hummed in answer.

“Here, just lay down—that way I can rest my book on your shoulders” you motioned towards your lap and he didn’t have to be told twice, settling his head on your satin covered thighs.

A comfortable silence filled the room, broken only by you flipping the pages of your book. Will could stay this way forever, your scent wrapped around him, his breathing slowing to match your own.

As he began drifting off, you closed the book and set it aside. He felt your focus shift fully to him but he kept his eyes closed, not wanting to break this peaceful spell. He could have purred when your fingers gently ran through his hair, lightly massaging his scalp whenever your hand returned to the top of his head.

“I’m single” he murmured, nuzzling deeper into your lap.

“I know” you answered and he turned to look up into your eyes, confusion evident there judging by your chuckle. “I asked Stephanie.”

He let out a loud laugh, gently taking your hand in his own, “I may have done the same thing” he admitted, causing you to snort and shake your head.

“So, what does that mean?” you asked quietly.

“Hopefully, it means that when I ask you out, you’ll say yes” he questioned, nerves oddly not coming to his stomach. He knew how long you both had wanted this, the timing just never being quite right.

“Well, I can’t wait to say yes then” you smiled, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his brow bone as your alarm rang from the nightstand. “Oh, time to get up, it’s 11:55.”

He shifted in response, sitting up and stretching, attempting to smooth out his shirt.

“Here” you offered walking towards him, heels firmly on your feet. He paused his fussing, allowing you to straighten his collar and smooth out the wrinkles that had developed on his chest. Your hand gently ran through his hair, settling down any stray hairs that had fallen out of place. “All better. Do I look alright?”

“You look perfect” he said honestly, rising off the bed and wrapping an arm around your shoulder. As you both exited the room, he marveled at how perfectly you fit there, tucked into his side.

The countdown had begun and Will’s eyes scanned the room, noting Auston immediately finding the two of you in the crowd.

“He’s intolerable” you mumbled, eyes also falling on Tony across the room. As the crowd counted down from ten, a giggle rose in his throat as you jokingly raised your middle finger to your cousin before turning back to him.

His hands settled on your hips, pulling you flush against him as your hands cupped his jaw, thumb caressing his cheek. With the New Year beginning, your lips finally met his and he wound his fingers through your hair to pull you closer. As your mouths moved in perfect harmony together, the rightness of this moment settled around him.

As the crowd picked back up again, he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours. “Can I take you out to dinner tomorrow night?”

“You have a game tomorrow, silly” you answered, chuckling. “But you can take me out the next night.”

A/N: I hope y'all enjoyed! Please forgive any typos, I am in fact working through a concussion currently. It turns out writing for Willy has become one of my new favorite things to do. Always happy to hear feedback :)

#william nylander #william nylander blurb #william nylander imagine #william nylander fic #nhl fic #nhl blurb #toronto maple leafs #toronto maple leafs fic #toronto maple leafs blurb #william nylander x reader #The Winter Fic Exchange 2k24

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hyuckmov · 2 years ago

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haechan — if i believe you

haechan x fem!reader 10.6k, angst & fluff, fake dating to real a/n: thank you all for waiting...this is the longest thing i've ever written :) i really hope that you can enjoy this and the emotions and everything are immersive and not too annoying with the miscommunication/repression i hope. these two are my favorite ever, quiet haechan is my favorite ever and i would love to revisit them maybe in a later fic. anyway, let me know if you like this!! thank you for reading <3 it’s a little difficult to be around your friend group when they’re all like this.

it’s a little past midnight, and you don’t know how it happened but the room has been split into happy pairs, all in their own world. movie on the tv forgotten, jaemin has his arm slung around a girl as they whisper to each other on the floor next to the couch, which is taken up by jeno — currently very endearingly laughing at something his girlfriend said. renjun was arguing with his girlfriend, but you know that neither of them truly meant it. you don’t know how it happened, but it seemed that this year, the trip to jaemin’s beach house had turned into a triple date for which you were seriously 7th wheeling. the sight makes your heart hurt a little, because you suddenly feel so crushingly lonely.

“still here?”

you almost forgot that haechan was here too. almost.

sliding in to sit next to you on the kitchen island, he was dressed cozily for bed: his hoodie rolled up to his elbows, smelling slightly of toothpaste and fabric softener. you didn’t actually talk to haechan that much, you were always closer with jaemin in the friend group, but sometimes when eating together he’d catch your eye after a particularly terrible joke, or you would raise your eyebrows at him for something questionable said. you had almost developed an entirely non-verbal form of communication in that way, the two of you sharing your humor, and yet you didn’t actually know a whole lot about each other. a part of you thinks that you know a different haechan from everyone else, because in all the looks you pass each other and the comfortable silence you share, the haechan you know is quiet and sensitive, with a world of kindness in him that made you feel calm. and although you know he can be obnoxious and loud, his laughter echoing down corridors and smile brighter than the sun, you much preferred the haechan you knew.

you also thought he was the prettiest boy you’d seen in a long while — something casual about the way he would smile, or wink at people, and his habit of poking his tongue in his cheek…but you weren’t going to tell him that.

“yeah, still here.” you exhale. “when did you make your escape?”

“about 30 minutes ago.” he smiled fondly at the happy couples in the room. “it’s a bit funny how the room just rearranged itself. i could’ve sworn jaemin was beside me at the dinner table the entire night but somewhere along the way he dematerialised and reappeared next to the sofa.”

“love can do that to a person.” you rolled your eyes, before pausing to consider that maybe haechan was not quite in the same predicament as you. “hey, speaking of, why didn’t you bring your girlfriend?”

because you were sure that haechan had a girlfriend, who he would sometimes leave gatherings early to see. you vaguely remembered renjun complaining about how he always had to walk her to class, never showing up to gatherings anymore because of some surprise or another.

haechan blinks at you. “don’t have one anymore. we broke up quite a few months ago.” at the guilt-striken look on your face, he shakes his head to reassure you.

“i’m over it,” he says softly. “don’t worry about me, okay?”

you can’t imagine anyone breaking up with haechan — haechan who was so gentle. with his radiant smile and his arms full of flowers whenever he surprised her. haechan who walked her to her classes.

“i’m sorry to hear that. you deserved better i’m sure.”

he smiles, and it looks kind of shy. “if you say so.”

“hey y/n-” you look up at jaemin’s voice, and realize that somehow, the room had emptied out while you were talking to haechan. the only person left was jaemin, who had just finished clearing the bottles and snack wrappers. “we’re going to bed, i’m going to turn out the lights now.”

“okay, thanks jaem.”

he made to leave, but stopped abruptly. “ y/n, remember-” jaemin looked at you sternly, one hand on the light switch, one pointed at you.

“repeat after me: do not trust how you feel about your entire life past 9pm.” a pause, as he glances at the clock on the wall. “or 1am, for that matter.”

you laugh. “thanks jaem.”

“repeat it”, he insists.

“do not trust how i feel about my life past 1am.”

“good.” jaemin nods in acknowledgement to haechan, flicks the light switch, and just like that, haechan and you sit alone at the kitchen island, illuminated by the moonlight through the glass doors.

suddenly, it is so quiet you feel like you want to sit in the moment forever.

you look over at him, and haechan raises his eyebrows. it is a look you know well. care to explain?

“sometimes i get really emotional at night”, you explain. “tend to overthink. jaemin knows that because i’m always calling him talking about one thing or the other.” thinking about how embarrassing it would be if you started oversharing, you quickly promise, “but i’m working on it, don’t worry. i won’t do that to you.”

haechan smiles. “i don’t mind.” he blinks at you and supports his chin with his hands. “we have all night. tell me what’s on your mind right now.”

“really?” you look skeptical. once again, you and haechan haven’t really talked that much at all. you think this is maybe the longest conversation you’ve had with him, with so many words.

“it’s okay if you don’t want to. but i’m just saying, i wouldn’t mind.” he smiles, and it warms your heart.

asking you softly if you would like something to drink, he gets up to make hot chocolate for the two of you. and you’re sitting there, not even trying, but suddenly the moonlight and the soft sounds of haechan padding around the kitchen are setting off a feeling of butterflies making their way to your throat from your stomach. there are shivers running up and down your spine because there is something tender and fragile in this moment that you can’t pinpoint, and a deep feeling begins to crawl its way, spreading through your toes and fingertips. all you know is it’s the feeling you get before you’re about to spill your heart out to someone.

“haechan?”

he hums, and the sound could break your heart.

“do you ever feel lonely sometimes?”

you hear the smile in his voice without having to turn around to look at him — its the one that starts at the corners and spreads slowly across his face. “so this is what keeps you up at night.”

“i’m serious, haechan.” running your hands through your hair, you are aware that you are beginning to sound like a rom-com protagonist, but you don’t care.

“sorry.” you hear the clink of teaspoons against cups as he stirs the hot chocolate. “i mean, i guess i do feel a little lonely sometimes. but it’s not…an all-consuming thought.” a pause. “i guess it is, for you though, isn’t it?”

you hesitate, before nodding because fuck it, this has been on your mind for way too long and jaemin was rarely helpful. always with his arm slung over another girl, you had a hard time getting jaemin to admit he got lonely sometimes.

choosing your words carefully, you continue your spiel. “it’s just…it’s insane to me how we are told that life is so romantic, that there are so many wonderful moments in love we can look forward to, but none of that is happening to me and it doesn’t seem like it will be happening any time soon.”

haechan comes over to you, and passes you a mug of hot chocolate. soothingly, he places a hand on yours where it rests on the counter. “you have to wait y/n. i promise, one day you’ll find someone who loves you, and all the things you’re dreaming about will happen.”

“you can’t know that for sure,” you press. “i mean, when will someone write a love letter to me? will we kiss in the rain in the park? will they run to see me at a new year’s eve party?”

“woah woah woah, slow down.” he nudges your mug with his, indicating that you should drink, so you take a sip of chocolate: it’s rich and warm.

“i’m sorry. it’s just over the years things just keep getting added to this list of love, and now that i look at it it just seems ever the more impossible.”

“love isn’t defined by actions and experiences,” haechan muses.

“but i want to experience these things,” you say, feeling a little shy at how raw this conversation was getting.

haechan smiles at that, at the yearning hidden in your small voice. the two of you sit for a while, nursing your cups of chocolate, lost in your own thoughts. enjoying the warmth of his hand on yours, you look at the glimmering countertop and choose not to say anything so he doesn’t move his hand away.

and suddenly, out of the blue, haechan asks you a question.

“just out of curiosity, what are some things on your list?”

feeling a little embarrassed, because really — sharing your romantic fantasies with someone was beyond intimate, you mumble, “just simple things. going to the aquarium. being a couple at the amusement park, on the ferris wheel. watching fireworks together. cuddling while watching movies in my bedroom.”

haechan thinks about it for a moment. you can almost see the wheels turning in his head. you sit in silence for so long, you’re about to ask him what he’s thinking about, or tell him it’s not that serious, when he speaks up.

“i’ll do them with you.”

you almost choke. “i’m sorry?”

“i’ll help you complete your list.” he looks at you, as if it’s a completely normal thing he’s just said.

“but…but i mean…” you blink confusedly. you were supposed to do those things with a boyfriend or someone you loved, not just as friends. that would defeat the whole purpose.

reading your mind, haechan added “it’ll just be like fake dating. i’ll pretend to be your boyfriend so you can experience all that you want to.”

you’re beginning to see a little bit of the haechan that you don’t usually get to see, as he grins at you and there’s suddenly something sharp to the smile you always found gentle. “the full, personalised, boyfriend experience. just so you can have a go.”

you laugh, but that’s just a cover for all the questions running through your head. “i-i don’t know,” you stammer. “does it even count if it’s fake?”

“you’re the one making the rules.” tilting his head to the side, his eyes glimmer almost teasingly.

“but what are you suggesting? what do you have in mind?”

“well…” haechan hums as he thinks about it. “i could do everything with you on the list, as your fake boyfriend. in the timeframe that we’re going about carrying out this activity i’ll be fully and completely your boyfriend, yours to hug and kiss and hold hands with, until it’s over. then we can go back to being…” he smiles at you, hesitantly. “friends? does that work?”

this haechan makes your palms sweaty, and makes your breath catch. this haechan makes you feel jumpy, and nervous, and impulsive. you think you’d do anything he asked in that moment.

“okay.” you say slowly, and he smiles wide. “wait no.” you hesitate. “wait, fuck it, yes. let’s do it.”

he laughs. “are you sure?”

“wait.” his body heat is radiating off his skin as all his attention is focused on you. lips still pressed into a smile, his eyes bright and far too mesmerizing in the dim moonlight. and you can’t help but wonder then, “what if we catch feelings?”

tilting his head to the side in consideration, he leans in close, one arm reaching out to cage you in. the two of you are nose to nose. you can count his every eyelash, see the constellation of moles scattered across his face and neck. his breath so close to your own, that your eyes can’t help but flutter shut.

“then that’s the best part.” he whispers.

you try not to think about how you felt when haechan leaned in, or the way the circles he traced into the back of your hand were still burning. you couldn’t help looking for the smell of his perfume on your clothes.

you’re way too easy, y/n. this is only the first real conversation you’ve had with him.

you’re about to turn off the lights and call it a night, hoping to some power above that you’re able to reign in your emotions come morning, when there’s a light tap at your door.

“y/n? are you there?”

it’s him. you spend about 5 seconds debating whether or not to pretend you’ve already fallen asleep, but curiosity eventually wins you over. crossing over to the door, you place a hand on the doorknob.

“haechan?”

you can hear him shift from behind the door, pushing it so it keeps shut. “y/n, wait, don’t open the door. i just want to tell you something.”

slowly, you remove your hand from the doorknob and the latch clicks back, shut.

“okay…”

he’s breathing softly, and in the quiet you can hear it as if he were in the room with you. “y/n, i’m sorry i sprung the idea on you just now. you can forget i said anything if it made you uncomfortable.” he shifts his weight from foot to foot, nervously. “especially the part about catching feelings.”

“it’s fine,” you say softly, but there’s a little disappointment stinging at you. does he regret it?

“but also, if you’d like, i would really love to do all those things with you,” the words come out in a rush, as if he’s trying to be brave. “as fake lovers. without feelings attached.”

you don’t know what to say, and you can tell that for each second you stay silent, haechan is growing less and less confident behind the door. you run things through in your head quickly. this plan meant that you were able to jump headlong into romantic experiences you’ve dreamt of for what felt like your whole life, without the potential of them being ruined by a bad date, or waiting for years more to find the right one. and most of all, you trusted haechan with this.

haechan is leaning against the opposite wall, looking at the floorboards, but his head shoots up when you open the door.

taking a deep breath, you look him in the eyes. “let’s do it.”

“really?” shocked, he reaches for you — maybe to wrap you in his arms for a hug, but drops them, remembering what he had said about making you feel uncomfortable. putting his hands behind his back to resist the urge to swing you into the air, his expression of surprise melts into a huge smile. one that makes you laugh.

“you’re more excited about this than me,” you tease, and because you just can’t help it, you step forward and give him a quick hug. “thanks for doing this with me.”

instantly, his arms loop around your waist, squeezing tightly. “thank you for trusting me.”

the butterflies in your stomach, however, tell you that you were maybe being a bit too trusting. without feelings attached. because would that really be possible with him, who’s currently making your heart race and your breath catch?

it was a week since the beach house. and while the opening of summer felt optimistic and hopeful, now everyone had to wander back to their lives and figure out exactly what they were going to do for the next three months. jeno and renjun had an ongoing bet that jaemin would be fired from his summer job within the week. and jaemin had a bet with you that jeno and renjun wouldn’t find themselves a job that entire summer.

but you knew exactly what you were going to do for the season. and it all started with getting in the passenger seat of haechan’s car as he took you to a waffles place for breakfast.

“hey.”

“hi.” he flashes a quick smile at you. “you look nice today.”

“really?” you adjust the collar of your shirt self-consciously, checking on your hair through the rearview mirror.

“no, i lied.” he laughs, and the sound is all too fitting for the morning sunshine that flits in through the windows. “yes, i mean it. i like your shirt.”

“my shirt?”

“just take the compliment.”

you can’t help a smile of your own. “okay. i will.”

for a while, he drives in silence. it’s a peaceful sense of calm that you think you’ll come to enjoy. there’s a lot of comfort in just sitting next to haechan, watching his hands move on the wheel, his careful eyes scanning the road.

“so, y/n, i took a look at your list,” he starts.

you had texted him a small list of the things you were thinking about doing. the classic dinner and a movie. going to the amusement park. sharing a kiss while watching fireworks.

feeling a little shy all of a sudden in his car, you nod. “is it a bit much?”

“not at all,” he says quickly. “i was just wondering how you’ve never done some of those things before. i would’ve thought going to the amusement park was entry level honeymoon phase stuff.”

you nod approvingly. “it’s sweet that you think so.”

“didn’t you use to have a boyfriend?”

“i did,” you muse. “i dated mark a while ago.”

“our senior?”

“yeah.” looking out the window at the cars passing by, you think back to your time with mark. “he was always nice to me. but we never really went out and did things. we broke up because i was someone who loved romance, and he wasn’t.”

“i see.” haechan hesitates. there was something about the way you talked about mark that unsettled him, but he couldn’t pinpoint what it was. “do you think you could get back together with him?”

“trying to pass me off onto someone else already?” you don’t pick up on the shift in haechan’s tone, and mistake it for genuine curiosity. “i guess i could. maybe after these years apart he wants something romantic too.”

although the morning was warm, haechan felt a sense of cold sweep through him. he tries to brush it off. “well, thank your lucky stars you have me now”

looking over at him, his hair falling slightly over his eyes, the troubled crease of his brow, your thoughts of mark immediately clear. “thank you,” you say, a little too emotionally for the early morning and this car ride.

he looks over at you, and his chest eases up at the warmth in your eyes. “don’t mention it,” he says, and smiling at you is the easiest thing in the world.

the line for popcorn at the movies had stopped moving. fidgeting from the cold of the cinema, you wrap your arms around yourself as haechan stands by you, scrolling on his phone for a deal that he saw for a discounted drink combo. one arm slung casually over your shoulders, you lean into his touch just a little.

today he was helping you out by taking you for a date. specifically, the classic dinner and a movie idea that has been long since rendered obsolete, but you had never had a chance to do. standing in line, his fingertips brushing your shoulder, you recall how he had showed up 5 minutes early outside your apartment, holding a small bouquet of flowers, and doing the thing where he flicked his fingers to splay out the two movie tickets he had ordered early on. the two of you had dinner at a nice italian restaurant, and he had offered to pay but you insisted, since you were technically making him do all of this.

“are you cold?” drawing you out of your thoughts, you turn to see haechan, concern causing his eyebrows to furrow and his heart-shaped lips to form a slight pout. “why didn’t you bring a jacket? you knew we were going to watch a movie.”

the line moves forward by a fraction of an inch, and you take a step forward, haechan now standing slightly behind you. “i completely forgot,” you whined. “i just haven’t watched a movie at the cinema in a while.”

haechan bites back a smile, and slots his phone into his back pocket. the arm that is slung over your shoulder drops to your waist, while his other comes to circle around you from behind, and before you know it he’s pressed up against your back. you can feel the heat of his skin even with the thick hoodie he’s wearing over. dropping his head onto your shoulder, you feel him smile against your neck. “there,” he whispers. “now you won’t be cold anymore.”

trying to steady your nerves, you stare resolutely ahead. “couldn’t have just given me your jacket like a normal person?”

he shakes his head cutely, his soft hair tickling your jaw. “nope.”

you make sure your voice stays resolutely calm. “then what will we do during the movie? you’ll be sitting next to me.”

the line moves forward and haechan straightens, but his arms never leave your side. “guess you’ll have to hold on tight.”

and so you do. he ends up draping the hoodie over you during the movie, and he clings onto your arm, head resting on your shoulder. you hold on after the movie when he drops you off at home, grabbing onto his arm to steady yourself getting out of his car.

you hold on when he takes you for the next date at the amusement park; and when he tilts your chin upwards to press a kiss at the corner of your lips, your top-of-the-ferris-wheel moment, you squeeze his hands in yours and move so your lips slot against his. you tell him with your smile that it’s alright.

you hold on to him through your dates to the local aquarium, and to the beach. you let him pull you close as he drags you around the mall window-shopping, and as he guides you through clubs and restaurants.

and if some part of you gets scared that it might be getting too real, if some part of you feels a little hurt whenever he brings up the list or when he removes your hand from his, you ignore it as best you can.

“thanks for inviting me to this event,” you whisper, as you step into the doorway of the mansion, which really looks like a castle from the level of grandeur that meets your eyes. a man steps forward to take your coat, and you feel giddy.

“nah, sorry for stealing you away on some random summer night.” haechan smiles, and you feel a tug in your heart. in his suit, he looks like he belongs here with all this finery, the slopes of his shoulders and the slight cinch of the waist looking elegant under the chandeliers, the rings scattered on his hands catching the light in pretty ways. “besides, it’s all part of the experience, isn’t it?”

right. kissing and fireworks. trying to disguise the squeezing feeling in your chest, you smile back. “why do you keep bringing that up?”

“do you not want me to?” there’s something careful about the way he looks at you.

“i don’t.” you say, quietly.

“then i won’t.” he extends an arm for you to take. “tonight you’ll just be my date.” and with your heart thundering up your throat, he steers you into the warmth of the room.

you spend most of the night in the same giddy spiral of emotions, as he twirls you on the dance floor expertly, and winces dramatically when you step on his toes. your hands never leave each others’ grasps, as you stand around tables eating finger-food and drinking champagne. as the party went on, he introduced you through holding up your clasped palms to each of his parent’s friends, earning a lot of cooing and fussing about.

“haechan, how well you’ve grown up!”

“is this your girlfriend? haechan is so lucky to be with such a beautiful girl like you.”

“haechan! come say hello to the kids, they miss you!”

“this won’t take long,” he mumbles sadly to you, as an aunt of his insists he meet his cousins upstairs. “i’ll meet you at the bar, okay?”

“okay,” you smile, inwardly dying at the idea of haechan interacting with kids. as if he couldn’t get infinitely cuter. “have fun!”

“don’t let someone steal my date away,” he warns, as he’s pulled away. “i mean it – you’re mine tonight.”

you’re mine. you feel like you’re floating on a cloud as you make your way to the bar, you’re sure you’re at least swaying on your feet.

“woah.” a hand reaches out to steady you, helping you settle into a seat. “too much champagne?”

you gape at the man who’s sitting next to you now. “mark?”

fidgeting with the collar of his suit and looking very uncomfortable, he nods in greeting. “didn’t know you were coming to this thing.”

you look at him. he had gotten a haircut recently. but besides that in terms of appearance, he looked just as he did when the two of you were together, except for the fact that something about his demeanor was off. he looked tired, and there was something weary about his posture that hadn’t been there before.

“i was invited,” you tell him. “how are you here?”

“one of the ladies there is my aunt.” he pauses. “you’ve never met her. are you enjoying yourself?”

you think back to haechan’s smile as he sways underneath the lights, holding your hips. before you know it, you’re smiling too. “it’s a nice night. this place is really beautiful.”

mark studies you for a moment. “how have you been?”

“i’ve been alright.” you figure since there aren’t any hard feelings, you don’t have to make anything up as you would for an ex you were bitter over. mark was still a nice person, and he had been good to you in the right ways.

“it’s summer, so i’ve been going out more i guess. how about you?”

“i’ve been alright.” he downs his glass of white wine and signals for another one in a fluid motion, and you raise your eyebrows. shaking his head, he changes his answer.

“okay, things could be better.”

“why?”

“just been feeling a little lonely.”

you are so taken aback, that you let out a laugh. he looks at you, affronted, and somehow the furrow of his eyebrows makes you laugh even harder.

“i’m sorry,” you calm yourself down. “i wasn’t laughing at you, not really. it’s just…” you take a sip of your own drink. “i was in the exact same situation say a few months ago.” at his bewildered expression, you gesture. “please continue, though.”

mark shrugs and goes along with it. “i guess i was just realizing that i wasn’t as happy as i could be. there were times where i would be – i don’t know, having dinner, and i’d just think ‘damn. really wish i had someone with me right now.’ you know?”

“i do know.” you nod. “it’s crazy we’re experiencing the same thing, after, you know, so many years.”

“yeah.” he looks at you carefully. “crazy.”

“hey baby.”

a hand slides possessively around your waist, and you jump. the next thing you know, a pair of lips are kissing their way down your neck, as another hand snakes its way around you until you are fully in their embrace. craning your head up, you already know who you’re going to see.

“hi haechan,” you say breathlessly.

“sorry for leaving you for so long,” he murmurs, intermittently, as he continues to plant wet kisses on your neck. “the kids were going crazy.”

feeling like you were about to burn up into a crumble of ashes, you splutter out, “we have company.”

pulling away from you, haechan turns and stares at mark, coldly. “sorry, i didn’t notice.” his hand still draped over you, you can almost hear the forced normalcy in his voice when he asks, “and you are…?”

“mark,” mark supplies, awkwardly fidgeting with the coaster under his glass.

looking up at him, you see a flash of something race through haechan’s eyes, as he tightens his hold on you. “mark. well, hello, and goodbye.”

he pulls you to your feet, and you set down your drink hurriedly and latch onto his arm. “say goodbye to mark, sweetheart.”

“bye mark. things will get better, i’m sure of it,” you say, still left breathless by the turn of events.

raising his eyebrows, he turns back to the bar. “see you around y/n.”

“i don’t think so,” haechan chirps brightly, before tugging you away and past the throes of people, down a narrow hallway that was deserted.

“haechan, what are you doing?”

even in the dim lit of the hall, you can see his glower. “what were you talking to mark about?”

“i don’t know…” you shake your head, still a bit lost. “just about life, i guess.”

“did he ask to get back together with you?” he blurts out, suddenly.

“what? no!” you splutter.

“i heard him say he was lonely. who the fuck says that to their ex unless they want to get back together?”

you take the hard look in his eyes. hesitantly, you call out. “haechan?”

he huffs.

“he didn’t want to get back together, i promise.” he looks at you, warily. “and even if he did, i wouldn’t want to get back together with him.”

it is almost laughable how quickly his expression clears.

“you wouldn’t?”

“i wouldn’t,” you confirm. “i told you, i’m completely over it.”

“okay,” he sighs, in something that sounds like relief. and before you could even register it, he pulls you into a hug, crushing you against him. “sorry, i guess i got nervous.”

“that’s alright,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around him firmly, feeling his heartbeat against your ears, and you smile when you realise it’s racing.

“hey it’s almost midnight,” he dips down to whisper into your hear. “do you want to go to the balcony to watch the fireworks?” as you nod, he leads you gently away from the corridor and through a set of glass doors, stepping out onto a beautiful balcony. the night air smells like honey and roses, and the sky is clear and bright with moonlight.

you feel a tug at your fingertips, and you look to your side to find him smiling as he looks up.

“what are you smiling about?”

he hums. “i’m smiling about the fact that my date is the prettiest girl at the party.”

you pretend to wrinkle your nose, and use your free hand to hit him on the shoulder. “corny.”

“you love it.”

and because it’s been weeks, and haechan is slowly making a home in your heart, you decide you need to at least start acknowledging the honest truth of the matter, so you don’t say anything.

as the night sky fills with fireworks and the people inside the party cheer, he turns to hold your face in his hands, the tenderness and warmth in his eyes unparalleled by the lights in the sky.

you tilt your face up to kiss him, and as his arms fall to your waist, with a jolt you remember his voice at the bar. hey baby. the term of endearment swirls in your chest, and makes you drape your arms around his shoulders and pull him just a little closer. the two of you don’t break apart for what feels like hours, as you lose yourself in the feeling of his soft lips on yours, the brush of your noses, and the slight tremble of his fingertips on your cheeks. it feels and tastes as real as you have ever known.

except it’s not real. and you can’t ignore it. so you avoid it.

keeping busy and finally diving into all the things you wanted to do for the summer was your only way of telling haechan you couldn’t make it for the next ‘date’, or the next. you can tell he’s a little confused, but since the whole thing was your idea, he’s trying his best to respect whatever pace you’re deciding to go with. you push it all away, and you try to live life without thinking of him and his hands, the way he closes his eyes in bliss when the sunlight makes his skin glow, the way his hair looks after he tugs his hoodie off, and the feel of his lips when he presses his face into the crook of your neck when he thinks you’re not paying attention.

it’s late. you think you’ve definitely just had the longest day you’ve had all summer, running errands all around the city. all you wanted to do was lie in bed and put on a show that you could fall asleep to. lazily changing into your favorite pajamas, you set up your laptop on your bed, and you’re just about to press play when your phone screen lit up the dark room.

jaem: wru

one of jaemin’s summer house parties must’ve been today. you were so tired that you forgot.

y/n: too tired :( i don’t think i’ll go sorry

jaem: haechan needs you

you’re sure your heart actually stops beating for a second. haechan needs you. and just like that, your imagination kicks into overdrive, wondering what he could possibly need you for.

holding your breath, you watch the three dots on your screen indicating jaemin typing for what seems like ages before your phone buzzes again.

jaem: super hammered needs u to drive him home lol sry my bad that sounded weird

you let out a sigh of relief, but you can’t shake the adrenaline that rushed into you when you first saw the message.

y/n: can’t you let him crash at your place

jaem: he won’t stop ASKING for u it’s driving everyone crazy

a voice message comes through. he plays it, and it’s someone breathing really heavily. you’re beginning to wonder if jaemin sent this on accident, when haechan’s voice, low and husky from the alcohol, murmurs through the phone.

“y/n can you hear me? i wanna….wanna see you… please…i’ll do anything…”

“YOU’RE NOT BEING KIDNAPPED,” jaemin’s voice rings out, his words a little slurred but doing nothing to conceal the impatience in his tone. “GET A GRIP MAN.”

“PLEAAAAASE”, he raises his voice in an impressive whine, and you wince in second-hand embarrassment because you’re sure the entire living room must have heard that. “I MISS YOU.”

the voice message ends.

jaem: what a loser but yeah you get the gist of it

y/n: okay i’m on the way. can you get him on the phone?

jaem: do it yourself

on the drive there, you do call haechan.

he picks up halfway through the first ring of the phone. “y/n?”

“hi haechan. i’m on the way.”

“don’t lie to me,” he mumbles. “honk your car horn.”

“i’m not going to do that!,” you hiss, as if he were right here with you. “there are cars around.”

“liar,” he breathes. there’s a pause, and when you next speak you’re startled to hear his voice wobble. “liar. you’re not coming to get m-”

you slam your palm into your car horn, feeling your cheeks burn.

on the other end, he sniffles, and you presume he’s nodding at you. “okay. stay safe.”

“i will.” you hesitate. “is everything okay? did something happen at the party? are you hurt?”

he sighs over the phone. “everything is not okay,” he sniffles again, “because you’re not here.”

you swallow hard. you want to take a hand off the wheel and slap yourself, because you need to remember that he’s not himself right now, and he might regret this all in the morning. you calm yourself down before responding as lightly as you can. “haechan i’ll be there any minute now, okay? but you have to tell me if something happened and if you want to talk about it.”

he breathes heavily into the receiver. eventually, he mumbles out, “nothing happened.” shuffling, a pause, and then… “just miss you that’s all. i want to do more…more experience-y stuff with you.” more to himself than to you, he rambles on. “we’re falling behind you know. how are we going to finish this by the end of summer?”

a shot of pain twists at your guts, and you feel nauseous. so he really just wants to get all of this over and done with. you want to stop the car so you can throw up. you want to turn it back around. you’re suddenly regretting dropping everything just because he wanted to see you, because if this was why…

you keep driving on autopilot. the call has gone silent, but you can hear haechan breathing on the other end, and it’s driving you mad. you have no right to yell at him, but you almost do.

when you pull up at jaemin’s driveway, you clear your throat. your voice controlled, you say, “i’m here now. you want me to come in and get you?”

“okay. i’m in the 1st floor bathroom.”

the front door swings open, and you’re met with jaemin. at first, you think he’s going to tell you off for taking so long, but something in your face causes the words to die in his throat.

“y/n?” he asks. “are you okay?”

and before you know it, you’re wrapped in his arms in a hug and you’re bawling like you hadn’t for months. the built up pressure of avoiding haechan, of having to get into character as his girlfriend and having to get out of character just as often, and all your confusion at your feelings leave you sobbing and you just can’t stop. jaemin’s running his hands down your back and making soft, soothing noises.

you realise that you just really, really, missed your best friend.

“i’m s-sorry,” you choke out. “i haven’t come round to see you ever since the start of s-summer.”

“it’s okay,” he shakes his head, and leans back to look at you, wiping tears off your face gently. “we’ve both been busy.”

but you shake your head. “i really need to talk to you. i need your opinion in my life.”

he laughs at that. “i never thought i’d hear you say that.”

you just go back to hugging him as you slowly calm down, and the constricting feeling in your chest eases. but after a moment, your phone buzzes in your pocket, and when you check it you see that haechan has spammed your text messages with a bunch of ‘?????????’ and sad faces.

jaemin, ever the nosiest person in the room, is looking at your phone with a frown. “you never told me you started dating haechan, by the way.”

ignoring the twist in your stomach, you shake your head. “that’s because i’m not.” jaemin raises his eyebrows, and you elaborate. “we’re just doing coupley things. for the experience.”

narrowing his eyes because he knows you way too well, jaemin asks, “was this something you decided in the middle of the night? it’s sounding very classic middle-of-the-night-y/n ….” but at the look of frustration on your face, he immediately drops it. “okay, okay. not now. i get it.”

“y/n? are you here?”

you still, as haechan shuffles into view. he squints, until he confirms that it’s you, and suddenly he’s rushing towards you giddily and unsteadily, his socked feet slipping and sliding on the floor of the hallway until hes collapsed in your arms.

and there it is: his damn face in your neck again.

“wondered where you were, angel” you feel his hot breath against the base of your neck, and shivers shoot down your spine. “can i call you that? is it allowed?”

exchanging glances with you, seeing how this was slowly making you go insane, jaemin reaches out hesitantly to pry him off of you. “haechan, maybe it’s best if you stay at my place tonight-”

but haechan is quick to shrug him off, and with an agility that he shouldn’t be capable of in his state he pivots behind you and clings onto your back. his face once again buried in your neck.

“don’t wanna,” he shakes his head vigorously. “wanna stay with y/n.”

“y/n doesn’t want to stay with you,” jaemin starts forward again, making eye contact with you as he confirms, “right, y/n?”

haechan spins you around in his hold, with the most wounded expression you’ve ever seen from him, or anyone for that matter. his eyes filling with tears, his cheeks flushed and his lip wobbling in an alarming way, he chokes out, “you d-don’t want…to s-stay…with me?”

“i do, i do.” you assure him, trying to soothe him by drawing circles on his back with your thumb as he bites back sobs. over haechan’s back, you can see jaemin sigh defeatedly. “what am i supposed to do, he’s about to cry!” you hiss at him.

“he can cry on cue,” jaemin mouths.

pause. what?

you look back at haechan’s face, but every expression seems to be genuine: his bottom lip caught between his teeth and the tears shimmering in his lashes, his hands — which he barely seems to be aware of — caressing your sides nervously, as if afraid you were going to disappear into thin air.

“haechan,” you start. “are you lying to me?”

but that was the wrong thing to say. the better part of the next hour was spent trying to console a weeping and sobbing haechan on his knees, who would not stop clutching your waist and biting jaemin when he tried to pry him off of you. and then it was guiding him to your car, and another round of consoling as you assured him that no, you weren’t going to disappear as you were driving, and no, you could not drive one-handed so you could not hold his hand the entire way, but yes, he could put his hand on your thigh if he promised he wouldn’t do anything else.

you end up reaching, and then driving away from haechan’s apartment, because he would not leave the car without you and you figured that you might as well get a good night’s sleep at your own home. and somehow, you end up digging out some of mark’s old clothes out from the back of your closet for him to wear. and now, you’re standing between his legs, brushing his teeth for him while he looks at you adoringly.

he mumbles something intelligible, his mouth full of toothpaste foam, and you shake your head tiredly at him.

“nuh-uh. rinse your mouth out first.”

you hold the spare mug up to his mouth and his lips wrap around the rim of it obediently. turning to spit in the sink, he swivels back to face you, his arms never leaving your side.

“i’m sorry.” he says, quietly.

“it’s okay. i know you’d do the same for me,” you say, patiently, because it’s true. if you were drunk, haechan would definitely drop everything to make sure you were safe.

that you were sure of, because that was just the kind of person he was.

“no,” he tugs his bottom lip with his teeth again, looking nervous. “it’s not about that.” his arms remove themself from your waist and he wraps them around himself instead. all of a sudden, you’ve never felt colder.

“what do you mean?”

he doesn’t look at you in the eye when he answers. “sorry for bringing up our deal. that’s not why i miss you.”

you think you could cry. “really?” he nods, but his eyes are still on the floor. “haechan…” you press. “look at me.”

he looks up. he looks so pretty right there, his heart-shaped lips and moles scattered haphazardly over his cheeks and nose.

“so why do you miss me?” you ask, hoping against hope. his lips part, and for a split second you think he’s going to lean forward and kiss you.

but then his lips press together. he shakes his head. and again. and then he slides off the counter, brushes past you and out of the bathroom despite you calling his name. and when you break yourself out of your daze and walk, trembling slightly, to your bedroom, you see him tucked under the covers, fast asleep.

“i still don't’ get this ‘quiet haechan’ thing you keep going on about,” jaemin chews thoughtfully on a forkful of salad. “but okay, i’ll bite.”

you’re having lunch with jaemin for the first time in weeks. with nothing much going on in his life for the summer, him waving you off when you apologised again about not checking in with him, the two of you breezed past your usual topics and quickly moved on to the elephant in the room: you and your fake relationship with haechan.

nervously, you pick at your fries. “do you think i should just tell him we can stop now?”

jaemin shook his head. “that’s not the main problem.” ever the mom best friend, he takes a pause for dramatic effect before leaning in. “the main problem is that your catching feelings policy is completely shit.”

you glare at him, but don’t manage to keep it up. he’s right. “you think i should ask him about that?”

“of course.” jaemin shrugs. “but you could also just confess and see what happens.” at your mortified expression, he raises a hand to calm you down. “you never know until you try.”

unwilling to address the fact that he assumed you were in love with haechan, and the fact that he was probably right, you argue back. “you’re the one who’s friends with the both of us. do you have any idea if he maybe likes me or not?”

“i’m not telling you,” jaemin says, stubbornly. “you have to make the decision and accept the risks it comes with.”

you put your head in your hands. “i really hate you sometimes.”

as it turned out, ‘sometimes’ turned out to be occuring quite frequently, because jaemin seemed hell bent on getting you to talk to haechan, even if it was through the most roundabout ways.

such as inviting the beach-house group of friends over for dinner the next day, just so you had a reason to talk to haechan.

and that led you to where you were, currently, jaemin putting the cap back on his black marker as the words “ASK ABT CATCH FEELINGS POLICY” scrawled over your wrist and palm.

“i’ll remember to ask him, i swear,” you say impatiently, trying to wriggle your arm out of his grasp, but jaemin was a man on a mission.

“i don’t trust you,” he insists. “this way, even if you don’t bring it up, he’ll read it off your arm, and you will both talk it out.” finishing up with a few exclamation points, he caps his marker triumphantly.

you’re about to head to the bathroom to wash it off, when haechan shuffles into the living room, and embarrassingly it’s as if your mind is wiped clean.

between the night he slept over and now, the two of you had only seen each other once. he had called to apologize for bothering you the night of jaemin’s party, and you made plans to have lunch together, not dinner (because night time was always an emotional affair for the two of you, as evidenced in the past few weeks).

sitting in the sun, staring at him while he talked, the two of you eating in semi-silence, was enough for you to realise that no matter what time of day it was you would always be a little too giddy over him. the two of you, in some sort of mutual agreement, had left it at that — him bidding you goodbye with a pat on the shoulder, of all things.

and now, standing in front of you, his eyes just as confusing with their tenderness, you think that jaemin may be onto something.

“so how can i help?” haechan looks around the room, his mind on the dinner. “do we have all the materials? or…”

“everything’s in the kitchen, haechan,” you nod in the direction of the dining table. “i’ll show you.”

haechan nods, more to himself than you. then, hesitantly, he starts, “y/n…”

something had to give. but not now, not as you felt everything in you crashing down, your heart threatening to spill over at the edges just at the sight of him again.

“we’re good.” you interrupt. “everything’s going to be okay, haechan.”

he bites his lip.

“it will be,” you insist. “we’ll talk later, okay?”

his expression clears a little at that. “okay.”

in the car on the way home, jaemin insisting haechan drive you, it begins to drizzle slightly. after the moment from just now, the two of you had almost been able to go back to normal, working side by side and sitting together during dinner. topics opening up between you, discussing what happened in the days you hadn’t seen each other. things were comfortable, and you almost felt like you could go back to ignoring the aching feeling in your chest.

it slowly starts to end when the car peels into the street in front of your apartment. the two of you go quiet, and haechan’s body is tense as he looks straight ahead.

you realise you hadn’t even brought up what you had meant to say.

“do you…maybe…want to come inside?” you suggest. “we could watch a movie?”

“it’s late.” he says, almost automatically. he looks over at you, and you look so hesitant and sad. fuck. something stirs inside his chest, and suddenly he wants to do anything to take that look away from your face.

“i mean, i could. just for a movie.”

you smile, and haechan relaxes.

cozied up on your bed, haechan in a pair of sweats he had left over some other time, you slump against him as your eyes flicker between watching the movie on your laptop screen, and watching him. something about the way things were going tonight told you this might be the last time you could be with him like this, and you wanted to cherish it while you could.

the music swells in the random drama film you picked, and you are feeling that feeling again, the one that you get when you’re about to spill your soul out, and even with haechan’s warmth against you — his arm tucked into your waist and your head resting against his chest, the reality that he wasn’t yours was crashing down all the walls in your heart.

he realises you’re crying before you do, as he registers the jagged breathing from your chest, and the soft sounds you’re making.

“y/n? what’s wrong?”

“i-i, i just.” you breathe, and your sobs wreck through your words, each one stabbing painfully at his chest. “i’m just s-so tired of not h-having someone who loves me that much.”

running a hand up and down your back, haechan makes soft cooing noises as you bury your face in his chest. “okay. so watching this film was a baaaad idea.”

you’re muffled sobs soak through his hoodie, and you press it closer to your face because it smells safe and it smells like him. your emotions running away from you, you splutter out, “maybe i’ll never find s-someone. maybe i just have to deal w-with it. these experiences are just t-temporary fixes, aren’t they? i’ll never find someone who l-loves me. i mean, right now i am so in love with you and you don’t even seem to c-care —”

haechan stills. he sits there, motionless, you still quivering in his arms, as his brain kicks into overdrive.

you’re in love with him?

incoherent, you’re still talking on and on, and suddenly he knows it isn’t something he should be hearing.

“shut up.” he says, quietly, but you ignore him and ramble on. “shut up,” he insists.

“you d-don’t want me,” you sob, and somewhere in the back of your mind you know you’ll be embarrassed about this later, but for now all you could focus on was the fact that haechan wasn’t reacting because he was probably completely disgusted at the idea of even being with you. “i-i started to ignore you because it was too difficult to be around you, and suddenly you show up drunk and asking for me, and then you just act like nothing happened and i have the feeling that i’ll never see you again-”

“fuck it,” he breathes, and suddenly he’s holding your face in his hands, moving you away from his chest. “shut up, y/n. please.” and then he is kissing you, his mouth moving on yours, begging you to understand. you think he’s drawing the breath straight from your lungs, and you’re sure your lips will bruise, but you kiss him back with even more fervor, settling your weight on his lap as you lean into him, and he groans.

breaking away from you, breathing heavily, he reaches for your hands and begins to press kisses to your knuckles, trying to ease you.

“haechan…” you start, because everything is so confusing to you at this moment. “don’t-you don’t mean it-”

“what’s this?” he interrupts, as he flips your palm up, raking the sleeves of your hoodie upwards so the words “ASK ABT CATCH FEELINGS POLICY!!!!!”, smudged but unmistakable, could be read even in the dim room.

“oh, y/n…” he whispers, reaching to stroke your cheek. leaning into his palm, completely lost in his touch, you mumble on.

“jaemin said our catching feelings policy was shit…” you blurt out. “and i agree. i want a new one. i want to be allowed to love you.”

gently, haechan continues to whisper to you. “you’re the one making the rules.” trembling, his arms wrap around you, and he rocks you in his hold tenderly. “you’ve always been the one making the rules. i would do anything you told me to. i would love you if you asked.”

you don’t understand any of the words he’s saying. “no,” you raise your voice a little louder, even though he’s still speaking in that low voice. “you don’t want me.” your eyes fill with tears, you can see it now: he’s comforting you, he’s lying to you because you’re crying, and haechan is nothing but good to you, a kindness and gentleness in everything he does that you just know you’ll never feel again.

“y/n that’s not true,” he shakes his head resolutely. “please believe me.”

his voice is patient and soothing, and it’s that tone which slowly calms you down. the gentle rhythm of his hands tracing circles on your arms allowing you to breathe easier, and relax a little in his hold to be able to really look at him. and it’s the worry in his eyes, and softness in the way he’s looking at you which makes something click into place in your head.

and so what if everything in your relationship with him was supposed to be fake — the dates, the moments he’s introduced you as his girlfriend. everything else in between had started to be real for you — the kisses, the time you told him not to mention the deal or the list or the experience at all and so he didn’t, brushing his teeth for him as he sat on the counter, skin brushing against yours.

and so what if it was real for him too — the times where he’s held your hand or pulled you close when you weren’t paying attention, the nights on the drive back when he would look over at you incessantly?

untangling yourself from him, you reach for the notebook and pen you keep on your nightstand. he doesn’t stop you, tilting his head in confusion.

“what are you doing?”

holding it out to him, your heart hammering in your chest, you gesture for him to take it. “write me something i can read when i wake up. it’s so i have…,” you take a breath. “it’s so i have proof that it’s real.”

something stirs in haechan’s chest. taking the pen in his hands, he begins to scrawl on the notebook, looking up at you as he’s writing.

“if you still feel the same way, call me as soon as possible, okay?”

“okay,” you promise, breathlessly.

the yearning in your eyes is driving him crazy. guiltily, he reaches for you again, and slots his lips in yours, holding you tightly against him. as if kissing you was the last thing he would ever get to do.

you have half a mind to move into his lap, wrap your legs around his waist and keep him with you forever, but already he pries your hands away from him and heads for the door, reluctance making his movements disjointed and shaky.

“go to sleep, y/n.” he says, gently. “i’ll see you soon.”

and with that, he’s gone, and you’re left on your bed, the note at your bedside burning a hole into your table. shutting away your laptop, you curl up under the covers, and somewhere in your mind you pray that the light of day doesn’t treat you too harshly.

dear y/n,

last night you told me that you were in love with me. i don’t know if it was the loneliness, or even if it was too late at night for you to be thinking straight. all i know is that i love you too. i didn’t think you would want me unless we were playing pretend. but now i can’t look at you without realising i am completely fucking in love with you. i’m sorry that you never knew, and that somehow i messed up to the point where you didn’t believe me when i told you. if you wake up tomorrow and you still want me, call me. i will do everything with you again if it means it’ll be real.

love, haechan

it’s a little difficult to be around your friend group when they’re all like this.

summer was drawing to a close, the optimism at the start and the feeling of endless days under the sun slowly fading to a blistering heat, which then slowly tapered out into a hazy sense of being in limbo. soon the seasons would change, the days get shorter and the nights grow longer, the loneliest parts of the year stretching out before everyone. the sense that this had been another summer of wasted potential, the sense of taking a deep breath before the dive, of holding love close to one’s heart and hoping it’s enough to last through the winter, hanging in the air.

you had walked over to jaemin’s apartment for breakfast with everyone, practicing the entire way. you were going to tell haechan you wanted to talk to him. pull him away from the group, and talk to him in a separate room. the letter from last night, from him, seeming to burn right through your palms, words you wanted to echo right back at him.

but when you opened the door, you realise he wasn’t there. instead, everyone else sat slumped around the living room, prodding at various snacks and cans, and waving at you lazily as you picked your way through them, looking for the familiar mop of brown hair and eyes you had come to love.

“jaemin,” you make your way to your friend, who’s crumpled into the couch himself.

“hey y/n,” he smiles at you easily. “how did it go yesterday?”

“well it’s still going,” you admit. “where’s haechan?”

jaemin furrows his brow. “i swear he just arrived. i think he said something about getting us breakfast.”

your body moves before you can think to, winding through the room and carrying you towards the front door and out into the driveway. and there it is — his car, slowing backing out. and through the window you can see him, looking over his shoulder, the familiar twist of his neck you knew so well. the arm he would throw over the passenger seat.

you call out to him, and by some miracle he hears you. he stops the car jerkily, and you rush towards him. he had just barely gotten out of the car when you fall into his arms — you think you never want to be separated from him again.

squeezing you against his chest, he murmurs next to your ear. “you read my message?” you nod. “i meant every word,” he says, kissing the crown of your head. “i know we’ve done this all backwards. really sometimes i just wish i could go back and ask you out like i should have done.”

“i don’t regret it,” you tell him truthfully. stepping back from his hold, you interlock his hands with yours, relishing the familiar feeling. “i don’t regret any of the things we did.”

“me neither.” he hesitates. “actually…maybe i regret getting drunk at jaemin’s party.” he shuffles his feet. “i missed you a lot, and i feel like i should have just told you then.”

“maybe.” pause. “or you should tell me again now, because i don’t think i’ve heard you say it.” and it’s something that’s a little teasing, because at this point you know he loves you just as much as you love him, but haechan takes it so seriously — straightening up, he holds your hands against his chest, looking deep into your eyes. you feel a little out of breath from the way he’s looking at you.

“i’m really sorry,” he starts. “for everything. i love you so much. everything i ever told you, every time we’ve touched, it was real for me.”

“and if i believe you?”

he smiles. and it’s a look you know so well, the familiarity in reading his expressions and talking to him without words hitting you full force.

“just tell me you love me too,” he says, softly. “not because it’s at night, and you’re feeling lonely, and not while you’re crying. was it real for you too?”

and even though you’re soon interrupted by jaemin, who urges the two of you to go get breakfast together. even though the two of you keep making lists of places you want to go, and things which feel like love to you — haechan presenting you with music to dance in the kitchen to, afternoons spent restaurant hopping and nights spent driving to look at the ocean and sit under the stars. even as winter eventually rolls around, and the two of you bundle yourselves up in the apartment, his cheeks perpetually a shade of red which makes you want to kiss him —

neither of you forget the way it all started. that first time he held your hand in the middle of the kitchen and warmed you all the way through. because everything was real. and in a way, it always had been.

#haechan fluff #haechan angst #haechan scenario #haechan imagine #fic: if i believe you #nct fluff #nct angst #donghyuck fluff #donghyuck angst

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tcfactory · 11 months ago

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So, I have a really silly Mobei-jun transmigrator idea.

OG Mobei gets into writing after his Qinghua dies and Bingge starts doing the endless harem collecting because he wants to get away from what is kinda turning into his personal hell and he doesn't even have a trusty retainer he can bully to let off some steam.

He doesn't plan on getting any of it published because he starts out really clumsy with his words at first and even he knows it. But after getting all his venting out in his early works he really just nails the kind of stories with AU fix-it vibes (even if he always very carefully writes different settings than their own world. Can't have Bingge think he is criticizing what the Junshang has done to the world) that a lot of people in PIDW crave as a form of escapism, actually. And it's a little bit fun to sneak around and get the publishing contract and the illustrations and everything done behind Bingge's back.

The harem is hooked. There are passionate fanclubs for his characters that change the friendships and alliances between the consorts. There are ship wars that escalate to actual murder attempts. Mobei-jun watches with growing dread as the women ignore Luo Binghe in favor of trying to find out who the mysterious author writing the books is. Nobody suspects him because in person he still doesn't talk, like, at all.

Except finally Bingge has enough and uses a relic to track down the mysterious author and ends up killing Mobei, because centuries of loyal service or not, he has stirred up the harem so bad that Bingge refuses to tolerate the distraction anymore. Mobei dies thinking that if it was to end like this anyway he really should have just written that wish-fulfillment fix-it story he always wanted.

So the former Mobei-jun transmigrates into Mo Yunbao, soon to be An Ding's head disciple, a little before Binghe comes to the sect. He doesn't have a digital System (at least at the start), he has an analogue interface: the System directly communicates with these strangely folded paper 'birds'.

It takes Mobei some time to realize that other people can technically see the papers the System sends, but only if he deliberately brings attention to them, they can't read any of the writing and then they forget about them right away. He eats a lot of paper trying to hide them before he realizes that he doesn't have to bother.

Since his complaint was essentially that "nobody was actually happy in PIDW, not even the protagonist" his task is simple: create the maximum number of happy endings without completely sidestepping the main storyline re: Binghe, abyss, the usual System restrictions. How hard could it be, right? He thinks he has a fair idea about all of these people, Luo Binghe just could not shut up about all his horrible childhood when he had a captive audience and Mobei has always been very good at listening.

Except Shang Qinghua is acting strange. Mobei dismisses it as maybe the peak lord being different with his disciples than he is with his king, even if there are other things that are not quite aligning as they should. He already knows how he's going to fix that storyline, he needs to focus on figuring out all the other things, so he just ignores Shang Qinghua.

Yeah, that goes exactly as well as you'd think. Imagine Airplane bro for a moment: he's trying to send his weird little (he's cute, like a feral kitten is cute) gremlin of a head disciple to harass Shen Qingqiu into turning in the bi-monthly financial report early so he can sneak out and report to his king, when the distracted A-Bao reminds him not to forget his fur coat this time. It's the middle of the summer! Even more shockingly a very neatly folded paper plane flies in out of nowhere and hits head disciple Mo on the head with a thwack before it falls on the peak lord's desk.

Qinghua surprises both of them by picking the paper plane up before the other can even reach for it. It's a warning for OOC violation, but no point deduction because there are only transmigrators in the room.

So both Mobei and Airplane tell their stories, they bond over their love of writing and how fucked it would be if everything someone wrote became someone else's reality (Mobei hopes that hasn't happened to any of his stories. He wrote some really dark stuff at the start of his writing career that he would never wish even on his worst enemy), somewhere along the way they bully the System into upgrading Mobei's interface to the digital one and they become allies in fixing the world one doomed relationship at a time.

It's not long into their cooperation when Mobei realizes that he really likes this version of Shang Qinghua, actually, but it would be really inappropriate for a head disciple to hook up with his shizun, so he settles for setting the other Mobei-jun up with Airplane. Airplane is a good, responsible creator deity, he deserves a happy end.

Besides, Mobei has a good life here, as a human. He has friends he can (affectionately) bully, he doesn't have to fear certain death (for a while at least), he teams up with Liu Mingyan and together they convince Shen Qingqiu to preside over a cross-peak literature and creative writing club that's an absolute blast and Liu Qingge is trying to poach him for Bai Zhan because the body of Mo Yunbao is really suited for physical cultivation. He would go too if it wasn't so much more convenient to stay on An Ding for the sake of their schemes, but maybe he can let the War God steal him away for some night-hunting dates every now and then.

They don't know yet what to do with Luo Binghe when he inevitably shows up at the sect, but he has some faith that between Airplane and him they can figure out something good.

#svsss #mobei-jun #shang qinghua #tc writes #I might eventually write this or might not #if anyone wants to take a crack at this idea: please be my guest #or if you want to steal any part of it #like the analogue interface for the System #I'm a little proud of that one

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krewekreep · 1 year ago

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JJK Headcanons: Suit & Tie Edition

Word count: A lot I wrote this on Mobile. (Would love if somebody comments the word count for me lol)

Summary: JJK as Professionals/Corporate Boys + as BFs ((randomly began to rate them on a scale of 10, this post is really for my amusement—I hope you enjoy!!)) (I’ll update this over time to include all male JJK characters and more details, just really a random thought post), #activepost. (Will also likely end up lengthy so)

Hiromi: Lawyer

Of Course Hiromi would continue his work as a public defense attorney. He’s considerate but neurotic. Fair but cautious. And has a strong sense of principles that make his job perfect for him but also perfect for his various neurosis to fester and continue depressing this overwhelmed man.

As a Partner: At the point Hiromi (probably a mid life crisis) really realizes he’d like a relationship he’d be the guy that has everything planned out in his head but fails miserably somehow. He’s so analytical and emotional (his consideration of others not really the expression of emotion) and would end up a worry wart of sorts about being up to par with whatever imaginary standards he’s projected onto you. Less so than reassurance, you’d just be incline to remind him he doesn’t need to go above and beyond or have super grand gestures to be impressive. Likewise he’d want to communicate (maybe too much) once a conflict or issue occurred and I can see him likely being a bit overbearing with “You okay? Are you realllyyy okay??? You sureeee???” Along with literal hour long sit downs after arguments or disagreements. You end up feeling he can get parental but find him a good balance or synergy to your possibly avoidant or passive (I just end up shutting up completely lmao) conflict style. He’d work way too much in the beginning and maybe even have a moment of conflict with you about it but will level out with time as you will be his literal priority and focus. Diligent and upstanding he’s (in my taste) a 7-8/10. (I’d get immediately tired of his work schedule cause I’m “clingy”)

Nanami: Doctor

While Nanami is canonically coded as an overworked salary man I think in another universe he’s the perfect doctor. Similar to Hiromi but a bit more stoic and willing to work pass his limits. He’s the type to really be working triple, quadruple shifts off nothing but caffeine and the smiles of his patients. I think he’d be a pediatrician, dentist, or the perfect primary care physician. I see him being a talented medical student that actually does it for the love of the work. He’s the doctor everyone has the hugest crush on but are too intimidated to speak to—and who is also assumed to obviously be claimed cause who wouldn’t.

As a Partner: Kento would absolutely have the worst schedule. He’s genuinely, (probably neurotically), earnest and diligent. His patients’ care is his only concern and you would end up finding his work reputation as an anti social coworker pretty incongruent to the yeah quiet, sometimes intimidating but overwhelmingly kind and considerate man. Of course you become his “special” patient (whether you meet him as his patient or outside of work) and you begin to cutely annoy him by always being sick and needing to be seen only by him. He’ll honestly at first find it lightly irritating as a distraction but will realize how his shoulders ease and his breath steadies when he calms at your presence. As a man of a few words, and literally hands on as a health practitioner, he will communicate his love with actions and gifts. You’re surprised at work or date out with your friends with flowers and a note. Or he tells you he doesn’t want you inside all day and left his card on the nightstand. “Buy something for me ;).” How he only is ever cute or flirty in texts, and a shy even bubbling big guy who flushes red when you kiss him on the cheek. He’s the guy the upper admin want to promote but then will be even more unavailable so he doesn’t tell you about it. And at a work dinner when his coworker comments on it, lowers his head in shame for keeping it from you. In an argument, whether he feels right or wrong, he just wants you to calm down. Hate to psychoanalyze but Nanami gives the vibe he overprotects because he wasn’t protected and/or saw those he cared about hurt terribly and that those he treasures he’s pained to see disturbed in any way. So no he doesn’t want to see you mad and rightfully so he doesn’t know how to communicate he wants MORE time with you not less…and how he actually found a better job with better pay in another state so… “Y/N? Absolutely I was wrong to hold it from you…but now that I told you my other plans…would you…” (lmao I’m trolling I’m so sorry). Overall if he drops everything for me he’s a 10/10 cause he’s also my first JJK Husbando anyway blep) Strong, big, and SILENT!

Suguru: Political Consultant

Pre & Post Kenjaku Geto would be someone ending up in politics. Everyone wants to save him and give him his little tattoo shop but this man (of course once any incredibly negative event would happen cause he’s very emo coded) would be at think tanks and conferences and Capital Hill. While not sinister he’s a good bit mischievous (and messy). He’d love it for the sheer drama and mess and blackmail. He’d love how easy it would be to orchestrate against his enemies for whatever his “grand ideas” are…in reality he’s the worst (best) type of personality because he would never be “neutral,” he’d simply let it be known his “side” is whichever and whoever advances his desires. And his allegiances WILL change. He’d be the political actor in all those official photos no one really knows and that’s the point. (damn he’s just inspired a Scandal TV Show AU)

As a Partner: Boy…you better be the most apolitical person ever, devious as all hell, or truly ready to be his simp in all regards. This man will be everywhere but home. He WILL miss dates, I’m so sorry! (Even if he was jobless he’d somehow be late or miss a date and nobody can convince me otherwise.) You’d go to truly bewildering events in terms of scope and breadth of wealth, access, and political influence. As an Aquarius (real life shade too I’m sorry again) he’d be so two faced! You’d hear him drag for someone BAD and then upon meeting them realize THEY think he’s their BEST FRIEND. I’m sorry Geto is messy coded to me and you’d have to be down for being a hater at Dawn. (We’d work as friends not lovers cause I wake up and hate.) He’d spoil you monetarily from the beginning so it’s up to you if you accept them even if their very obligatory feeling. Otherwise, I see him being impressed by your ability to challenge him, call him out, or deny him. He TELLS you you’re going to be his date to an event but maybe he was way too flirty with one of his peers and thought you didn’t notice? He’s left outside in his bespoke suit with happy flowers and a sour face. 😂 BUT, he’ll weirdly respect (even possibly turned on.) Depending on how you play it he’ll be the guy who just won’t leave you alone and loves to bother you into a reaction for his amusement—or (if you decide to simp) a guy who’ll definitely see how far you’ll let him go. He’ll flirt with everyone and openly lightly disrespect you cause honestly he’s likely encountered enough simps before. Yet, the fact it’s out of pure emotion and want for him rather than money or prestige will make him feel guilty and he’ll SLOWLY but EVENTUALLY be a good partner holistically. Even to the degree he’ll break “character” upon any disrespect or unsavory comment made towards you. Politically—(I know for me I’d kill him probably) since he’d be a “only here for my own best and vested interests,” maybe you’d think hard on his principles. Maybe you’d confront him about how his “neutrality” is selfish and he should be able to stand on something and stick to it! Then maybe he’ll just simply bring out a laptop you’ve never seen before, type in a few things facing away from you, and show you terrabytes of collected info on everyone across the spectrum…maybe he’d then sit there bored as you scream “REALLY? NO WAY?? NOT HER??? Okay well I felt like he’d do something like tha….OH EWWWWW.” And scoffs to himself thinking “and that’s only what I know won’t make you throw up…” All in all I see TRUST and sincerity being the biggest dealbreaker given (and it’s fair) to feel like he’s fake with you or unsure of his feelings. But…the way he gets in bed and private lets you accept his real feelings for you. He’s a 6/10 because the flirting would KILL ME. And he’s technically my second and half JJK Husbando. Grown him would still be menace regardless of Kenjaku.

Satoru: Sports Manager/Finance

Now Satoru would either be the nepo baby that abandons it all or the nepo baby that reluctantly accepts his role at his family conglomerate. If he gets his way: I see Satoru as a sports manager. He’s a people person, athletic, and would care about the young athletes in the industry. If we convert the students of Jujutsu to athletes I definitely see him being one of the managers representing the most Olympians and medaled performers. He’s hot in his shades and open shirt suits with his iPhone against his ear and his blackberry in his hand texting off a contract or something…(Sports Manager AU coming up :/)

Now if he accepts his role at his family conglomerate he’s the CEO of an old money finance firm. He hates his life and his job and hates his responsibilities. It would be closer to his feelings of burden in the story cause he’s well off and well respected but it’s because he was born to be, so it’ll be a job of obligation. Yet, he’d definitely be a philanthropist and own a charity. He’d hate (but understand) the criticism so he’d just shrug and do the most he can. He’s the type to stay single (or marry a few times) but adopt and of course Megumi, Yuuji, and Nobara are his kids. He does conferences and speaks at events and otherwise is one of those “good” billionaires. (I’d give him a hard time about where his money comes from while telling him what color Birkin I want…cause duality…)

As a Partner: Sports Manager Satoru will not be as free and it’s likely upon cementing a committed relationship you’ll travel with him across the world. I don’t see Satoru being the kind of guy who can do LONG distance or long period of time without physically being near his partner. You’d be the wife without a ring (only for a short time, he’s definitely a “if you’re down I’m down and I love you so let’s get this show on the road” type man. He’s the kind to wait to find the right one but you’ll be a bit annoyed at how many possible “right ones” are floating around in the world. He’ll chuckle sheepishly cause every event lurks an ex somewhere. Whether for a week or a couple years—and you fight seething next to him as you take a long gulp of the alcohol in your glass. How it gets to you beyond jealousy that maybe he’s a lover boy and not retired yet? How you want to never be a numbered ex in an irritatingly lengthy list… “Did you really have to give ALL of them the partner title?” You say as you cross your arms and huff in a pout. Satoru’s the kind to always wanna laugh or kiss conflict away, usually it worked but not now. “Babe…,” he moves closer to you to which you move farther from him. “Babe…? Please?” When he has to get serious and you’re being avoidant or passive then he’s the manager everyone fears for his easy ferocity. Now your held down with no choice but to face his peering blue eyes. “Hey…I know my…past upsets you. I mean…shit it kinda upsets me too.” The scowl on your face makes him shake out of his intensity to clean up the sentence: “No I mean, I wish I knew how to love better…I wasted a lot of time and energy…and other people’s time and energy…so for what’s it worth I’m trying and we are in it for the long haul, kid.” No matter your age, he’ll clock your immaturity cutely. Big spender, pretty obvious. Lover boy, who you’ll have to keep an eye on solely for the women who will try you. You end up being at every game and rumored an athletes partner until Toru gets proper mad (extremely jealous he’s not getting the shipping attention and it’s his partner!) and will pop the question at a championship game or whatever. I see a regular fun but albeit stressful travel induced relationship. But one with a thousand memories and fun. Although (please don’t cut me) Gojo isn’t my type at all I don’t know why—he’s def still a 9/10. I can accept dealing with exes and others if you’re ACTUALLY devoted to ME.

Finance Bro Toru: This will not be an openly happy and likely extravagant or extraverted Satoru. This one would be cold and reclusive. It’s likely you only end up on a date with him because he weirdly keeps seeing you on the metro or at his coffee shop or at his favorite lounge. It’ll be nothing to him but he’ll slowly (likely having nothing better to do and being distant from others) people watch doing his best to not accept he only ever watches you. It becomes his break from pressing matters that don’t matter at all to him. How simple but frenzied you are and how you overapologize for knocking over something. How you debated out loud if it was worth asking the Barista to correct your order, then giving up upon mumbling “Oh everyone is so stressed nowadays it’s fine. I’ll just drink it.” How you bristle thinking the man behind you just laughed at you…but how silly that must be to assume on a random man. How he’ll play with his watch and phone outside the shop waiting on you. How he grows impatient and stomps his foot too used to ordering people around and having folks at his beck and call. He’ll cough loudly as you pass by and since you pay him no mind weirdly jogs to catch up to you. “Uh, hey! Hi…Hello,” this dude is weird what does he want. “I—I,” eh he’s cute but…has a stuttering problem? “Yeah guy? What’s up? My train leaves in ten minutes and I got a thirty minute walk before I even get there.” How he doesn’t know how to keep up and finds you abrasive. “I just wanted to ask if you’d like to eat somewhere with me? NOT right now…of course…aha.” You look over the admittedly stunning obvious investor type with consideration. “I thought you had somewhere to be?” He teases. “Oh I do! But…the event I had to get to in ten minutes started an hour ago…lol. I think they’ve accepted my absence by now.” And the both of you would stand awkwardly for like 3-5 good minutes. “So,” you both speak. “Ah you can go sorry about that,” Toru throws. “Well…where you wanna go eat?” And Boom Satoru’s forgotten the seven meetings for today. At first thinking if anything this beautiful stranger can give me a good day. Then when he realizes he’s a late 20 something with no real social life or sense of fun so now you’re damn near seeing him whenever he can. And he’ll love to sneak off to your shabby apartment where his people won’t think to look. “Toru don’t you have a literal meeting with Wells Fargo?” He’ll sour any time you mention work. “Do I have to go to serve a real purpose or just fill in a seat and say yes to whatever they propose?” Well he ate that tbh. So you let him continue eating his Deli sandwich and watching the Bear. Once he loves you he will not even entertain the debate of leaving you because of his role. If anything he’ll propose (albeit inappropriately) at an elite event for the sole sake of making everyone mad. You want to be sure he’s with you for you and not to prove a point or be a “bad boy” and all he does is call up his best friend Suguru in DC and Shoko in Seattle to tell you about how truly terrible your man was as a youth. If anything you bring him back to the source of his actual personality. So you realize this old geezer is actually a retired trouble maker and is absolutely in love with you and getting you both in “trouble.” Easily one of the biggest spenders but deeply intimate so it’ll go either way. He could just be the guy that buys you exactly what you want when you want or the guy that yeah buys you a Rolex without blinking but makes you open ten boxes from huge to miniature all as a gag as he can’t stop laughing at your disappointment. Upon getting to the Rolex he waits for the scream and jumping into his arms. He’ll be a little shitty pervert once you’re in his arms though. 7/10 only cause I romanticized it ALOT but I hate the Uber wealthy and that lifestyle. Plus he’d be much harder to warm up and likely be someone YOU really want to be with tbh😭 AND he’d likely be a victim of a VERY small worldview so unless you code it like dumb rich man meets the real world he’d be insufferable.

Yuuji: Construction Firm CEO/Estate Broker

Yuuji would do construction. Don’t know why he just seems the type…(actually I watch Selling Sunset). He’s less a real estate agent and more an owner of a large estate development firm. If Yuuji ever would decide a life where every day is suits and ties…he’s gonna forgo the tie and remain open shirt to almost an inappropriate degree…he’ll always get requests for “personal” tours but ruins it getting lost in over explaining permitting and how difficult it was to get city approval for zoning. He has the perfect personality for it as it’s an active, hands-on job that’s still people based but also creative. Yuuji is someone who would need a holistically fulfilling job and I think the energy of real estate development is very him.

As a Partner: Full Blown Unintentional Love Bomber. I hate to say it but Yuuji is absolutely someone to fall and fall WAY too hard. I don’t see him being aggressive or forceful but he will appear wherever you are. He’s a well connected, well respected, wealthy man it’s not weird for him to end up at the parties you end at up either. It’s stranger for you to be there but whether you are in his field or of a professional career, a client or someone who just meets him, Yuuji will be the kind to sweep you off your feet. While it’s likely you won’t always physically be around him or able to—he’s the kind to have you on the phone throughout his work day, all day. “Yeah I mean again it was right for you to tell your boss you can’t do someone elses—DIDNT I SAY A DIFFERENT STYLE OF BACKWASH! Portion of the work? If they know there’s gonna be a big client coming then they should’ve—TODO CALL ABOUT THE PERMITS BEFORE I LOSE MY FUCKING MIND!!! Made sure everyone did their portfolio and presentations…do you need me to call up there? You know I know…”(insert CEO you don’t even know of your company’s Name Here lmao). It would all depend on you if how hard he loves is perfect or off putting. He’d love very publicly but would respect your request for reduced or no PDA. He’d just be so happy he has someone tbh. And someone who wants what he wants in a long term, committed way. He’s a lover boy but only in the sense he wants to truly give his heart to someone and take care of someone else’s. Big spender, big protector, big my girl said I can’t come so *shrugs*, very much a “stop telling me how much something is…numbers annoy me, here” and now you got his black card realness. In conflict he will force you into his arms and make sure you scream, cry, and whatever else ;) it all out. You get annoyed he refuses to argue with you and will literally fall silent. How he tells you everyone gets frustrated but he just can’t get frustrated with you as he leaves you for work with a kiss on the forehead. How you get a heat building in your stomach and suddenly want to shop for kid’s clothes. Upon marriage and/or creating a family Yuuji calls Megumi up to design a couple houses. “A couple houses??? We only need one Yu…” You can’t contain your laughter. “One? That is absolutely not enough. We are going to have two family homes—you decide where. You’re gonna have your own condo when you want time to yourself and—babe you know me…thinking of houses for the babies…” meanwhile nobody is pregnant. But you hold your stomach instinctively for some reason. How fatherly and intense made your initial reaction become: “Sure! I mean…how many houses we thinking…?” You chuckle nervously, to which Yuuji just tells Megumi they’ll speak later and rises from his seat towards you. “I don’t know, but for sure one has to look like me and one has to look like you…so what we gonna do about that? Guess we’ll have to keep em coming till that happens, no?” 10/10 I’m so “one and done” like? I do NOT feel like dating 😂

Megumi: Architect/Engineer

I debated whether he would be an Architect or Engineer but if we ever learn their favorite subjects we’ll know if he’s STEM-brained or more humanities based. Either way he’ll do something that’s still creative but methodical. Like Yuuji he’d need full stimulation from his job and I think of course he’d be Yuuji’s business partner who designs the buildings. Likewise a job with purpose and long lasting impact. He’s definitely about sustainability and would incorporate nature similar to Japanese architects like Sou Fujimoto (utilizes unconventional shapes and literal nature) and Kengo Kuma (utilizes shape and literal environment by means of aesthetic cohesion to the surroundings xyz I had to look it up and simplify it 😭💕).

Otherwise he’s some kind of engineer (I’m more humanities so forgive how bad I summarize). Rather than unfamiliar, I’m moreso unsure of which kind of engineering would suit him “the most” but I find of course he’d likely be an industrial, civil, or architectural engineer. He’d want to be useful and in every sense not waste his time or his energy. Maybe a concentration in environmental engineering specifically just cause I see him having a mindset of sustainability and community.

As a Partner: Openly neurotic and pathological about his work so be ready for that kind of man. Will absolutely get mad if you interrupt him working but knowing it’s a him thing will feel guilty about ghosting you for a week…so will continue to ghost you. You’ll have be angry, sad, or simping enough to endure Megumi. He’s definitely introverted and because of the insular nature of his work will be a human black cat. He’ll want his pets when he wants them, cuddles when he wants them, distance when he wants it, etc. You’ll have be used to or okay with someone who may not talk the entire day. Even if he’s not working, I see Megumi just being someone who can and will revel in peace and silence. If you relate that’s perfect and you’ll be two cats in a burrito blanket. If not, he’ll REALLY have to like you to like your possibly disruptive or hyper active nature. And may not be able to appreciate you until you meet Yuuji and Nobara and others. He’ll realize “Yeah, it’s me” realizing just like with everyone else he grew to care about he has to be open and fair and patient. All of a sudden he chuckles more at your dumb jokes or clumsy nature. As a professional, whether it be conferences or grants or fellowships Megumi will end up sought after and very busy. Likely the weight of academics and infrastructure will be visible in his pronounced dark eyes so it’ll take time for him to break out of accepting being overburdened and overworked but your trips to the beach, your propensity to miss deadlines and laugh it off, the way you went to class or work hung over and had an amazing day…he takes it all in and so maybe he won’t accept or feel pressured to do this or that or work overtime on this or help someone with that…he’ll learn how to “overwork” his own way and once he’s consulting with cities on infrastructural improvements and visiting more schools seeing little kids projects on space and noodle bridges he’ll remember how fun what he does is and will kiss you the most passionate he ever has when he gets home. How his hand rests on your stomach and rubs it lightly. “Meg (his albeit reluctantly accepted nickname) your so flirty tonight?! What’s up with you?” He’ll say nothing as he leans into the crook of your neck and breaths. He doesn’t think he’s a charmer but that’s what makes him all the more dreamy to you. How you never could question his sincerity since he’s the living embodiment of it, so how when he wants you—really wants you…it’s easy to lean into him and let him drift your bodies to your bedroom. Empty introverted all up on you cat boy Megumi: 10/10. The functionality of the relationship is a strong 3/10 because he will not prioritize the relationship for a number of MONTHS. He’s a workaholic introvert who is an engineer…whether graduate student, Ph.D, Instructor, or seasoned professional he’s def gonna be hard to deal with. Likewise you’ll have to be really strict with him about replying to you cause he’ll just…not do it. He’ll answer in his head and hope it gets to you…so once you threaten a breakup if he goes a day ever again without replying to you…he’s incredibly responsive and kicks himself at all the day to day conversation he missed out on…so he’ll make up for it.

Upcoming

Yuuta

Sukuna

Toji

Choso

Haibara

Inumaki

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etherealeddie · 2 years ago

Text

Woodstock ‘99 - Part 1

Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Reader

Story Summary: A hopeless romantic hippie meets a roughed up metalhead at what is supposed to be beautiful, peaceful, music-filled weekend. But even amongst all of the chaos, there may be some peace.

Part Summary: You chase love all the way to Woodstock ‘99, hoping to find what your parents did in 1969, but you find yourself stuck in hellish crowds and reaching for any hands to pull you out.

CW: Use of weed, maybe some alcohol, rough crowd, but I think that’s everything. Let me know if I missed any!

Authors Note: This was originally going to just be a one shot but I got a bit too into it and decided maybe a short series was better!

Word Count: 1.2k

You grew up with two very interesting parents, to say the least. From a young age you were taught kindness, peace, and love, and learned quickly in school that most people were not raised with these same values.

It’s like you came out of the womb with a flower crown on, singing Imagine by John Lennon. None of that was really surprising though, you’d been the love child of two hippies who met at Woodstock and lived in a van.

It wasn’t until you were a toddler that they decided settling down in a house was a more stable environment for a kid. They chose a small trailer, in a small town, in the big state of Arizona, and you loved it. You loved having a room and space, and you loved being able to spend time with your parents without motion sickness and seatbelts.

By the time you were 10, you could recite your parents' love story word for word as your mom told it, and you told everyone.

“My mom had just broken up with her boyfriend and hitched a ride to Woodstock in ‘69 just looking for new friends and community. My dad says he was friends with someone who was friends with Janis Joplin, but I think he was just there to sell weed!” You’d say, giggling to your 5th grade teacher. She would smile along, knowing she should have a talk with them about what is and isn’t appropriate for kids your age.

You’d been so obsessed with their meet-cute that you’d only dreamed of having your own. So when Woodstock ‘99 was announced, how could you not get a ticket? You weren't going to pass up the opportunity to experience the kind of love and community your parents always talked about, and maybe find some more like-minded friends.

Sure, the bands this year weren't the kind of bands you’d really associate with Woodstock in your head, but they couldn’t be that different from ‘69. Maybe you’d be a part of a new kind of movement, something to better the world. That’s what you wanted most.

So July 19th of 1999, you piled into your parents' old van-home with a few of your friends, ready to be enlightened and experience what your parents once had. The 35 hour drive was long and grueling but you and your friends didn’t seem the least bit distressed. It would be a long journey, switching drivers every few hours, talking about the excitement ahead, and what you all expected out of the weekend.

━

Once in the venue, you realize it’s an old air force base. There are no flowers, little to no healthy grass, and a LOT of people. You try not to let that bother you too much, it’s just the venue. It doesn’t mean the people and experience are going to be any less fulfilling.

You and your friends quickly find a spot to pitch the small tents you brought and begin to walk around to get a feel for the weekend ahead.

Navigating between people, with your best friend Avery in toe, hunt for the bathrooms and vendor area so you would be able to find them quickly later.

“I can’t believe we're actually here. Like really here.” She says, smiling wider than you’ve ever seen her smile before.

“Me either, honestly. I know he’s not until the last day, but I am so excited for Willie Nelson, it’s going to be so good!” You reply, trying to politely push your way through the throngs of people ahead of you.

“Yeah, but Korn is tonight. That’s going to be absolutely killer.” Avery says, silently thanking you as you reach your hand back to hold hers so you don’t lose each other.

Avery didn’t grow up like you did. She was a lot more “city”. She was more into rock music and was most excited for Korn and Metallica, and although you shared the same values in humanity, you showed it a bit differently.

She liked loud and proud activism. You liked peaceful yet impactful activism. But at the end of the day, as long as you were fighting for the same thing, did any of it really matter? As long as positive change was made, who cares if you hugged it out or screamed into the faces of oppressors.

━

You and your friends smoke a joint or two and sit on the outskirts of the large crowd for most of the concerts throughout the first day. Avery is hellbent on pushing herself as much to the front as she can for Korn, and she's taking you with her.

The set change is about 20 minutes, and the crowd separates a bit, making it easier to move forward, but it's still a pretty tight squeeze. Avery holds your hand so tight you think she may break your wrist.

You manage to get pretty close to the front, maybe 10 or 15 people ahead of you by the time you see Jonathan Davis enter the stage. Avery freezes, wide eyes on him, she screams.

You quickly put your hand in hers, knowing keeping track of your friend is your only goal for the entire set. You didn’t know much of Korn’s music anyway, just a few songs she’d played for you over the course of your friendship.

The show goes on, and the crowd is getting rowdy. Mosh pits opening in every corner, people screaming and throwing things, and it’s not necessarily bad, you just aren’t ready for it.

A small pit opens right next to you and you see Avery get excited, she smirks, and before you have a second to say anything, she runs into the pit. For the few minutes she’s moshing, you see her body multiple grown men and you breathe a sigh of relief. You know she can handle herself, but these people are far more aggressive than you had expected.

As the set comes to a close, you can feel the energy and buzz of the audience. It’s much more abrasive and driven than you can handle, but there's no way to get out of this crowd easily, so you and Avery stay put, arms intertwined to keep together.

The next band is newer. They’ve been around for a few years but had just signed onto a label, and this is probably the biggest show they’ve ever played. You’ve heard of them from Avery before, she had seen them once before in a much smaller venue, maybe 50 people, and she said they were “pretty okay”.

An announcer comes out onto the stage, grabbing a microphone and yelling.

“How incredible was THAT, you guys?” He yells, earning cheers and excitement from everyone around you.

“Hope you all saved some energy for this next group. They're new on the scene and ready to rock. Everybody, this is Corroded Coffin!” He yells again as the 4 members come out and you’re frozen as the lead singer hits centerstage.

If he’s nervous, you can’t tell. You take in his appearance completely. From his ripped jeans and battle vest, to his long curly hair.

Eddie Munson, although you don’t know his name yet, is the prettiest man you’ve ever seen.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #mywork #rockstar!eddie

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pudgecuddles · 1 year ago

Note

Yoongi who’s not used to physical affection from Taehyung but still wants to show how much he loves him by feeding him. Which then turns to also surprising him with new clothes as he grows fatter. Before long, Yoongi has a massive Taehyung on his hands.

“This looks like kind of a lot, Yoongi.” Taehyung stared at the spread of take out in front of them.

“Yeah, maybe.” Yoongi rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “But hey, there’s always leftovers. Besides I know that Thai’s your favorite, you can have a little of everything and pack the rest away.”

Taehyung hummed, contemplating his options before shrugging and loading up his first plate with, like Yoongi said, a little of everything. “If I end up eating all of this, it’s your fault.”

Yoongi held up his hands in surrender. “Got it. Got it.”

Plopping themselves down on the sofa, they started up the movie they were going to watch, Ratatouille. It was Taehyung’s favorite movie and always inspired an appetite in him.

Needless to say, there were no leftovers that night.

“Heal me dammit!” Taehyung shouted as he tapped frantically on his keyboard. “Can we get a fucking Medic on our team already?! Red is pulverizing us! They have Uber already!”

The match ended shortly after, Blu team having failed to prevent the bomb from being pushed into their base.

Yoongi walked in with a platter of snacks just as Taehyung smacked his forehead in exasperation. “Did we really need three fucking Gibus Snipers? Really?”

“Playing casual matches again?” Yoongi was amused at how vocal Taehyung always got when he played his games. “You know that comp has better communication.”

“Yeah, but sometimes I just don’t wanna be roasted for maining Demoknight, okay? Casual doesn’t give a shit.”

“True.” Yoongi wanted to lean in and kiss his boyfriend sweetly, but hot embarrassment ran through him at the thought of potential rejection. Instead, he offered the tray to Taehyung. “I made you a consolation prize…”

Taehyung’s eyes bugged out at the sight of all his favorite snacks placed so prettily on the platter. “Yoongi, you shouldn’t have. That’s so sweet of you!” It didn’t matter to Taehyung in that moment that he had just eaten breakfast, or that he was actually trying to lose a few pounds. The kind, loving gesture from his boyfriend outranked silly little diets.

Taehyung grabbed a butter cracker dolloped with nutella and popped the whole thing in his mouth at once. “Mmmmmm…”

Yoongi took that as approval. “Well, I guess I’ll leave you to it-”

“Nuh-uh.” Taehyung swallowed audibly. “You’re always my good luck charm, I’m keeping you here.”

Taehyung stood up just then, pulling his tight shirt down his newly grown belly. Yoongi gulped at the sight. “I’ll stay.”

“Good, now come over here and sit.” Taehyung gestured towards his large, comfortable gaming chair.

Confused, Yoongi obediently sat on the chair, sinking into it’s softness. Hmm, this was nice.

Suddenly, all of Taehyung’s weight dropped onto Yoongi’s lap. “Oof! What-?”

“Sorry Yoongi, but you’re trapped now!” Taehyung grinned, lowering the chair so that he could reach the keyboard from his elevated position. “I knew you’d say no if I asked, so I tricked you.”

Cheeky brat. Yoongi Smiled, glad that his boyfriend was one to take initiative.

Taehyung got into queue for a new game as Yoongi tried to get comfortable. They have had Taehyung sit on Yoongi’s lap in the past, but this was different.

You see, Taehyung was 33 pounds heavier than last time, and Yoongi felt every ounce of it.

He knew only because he checked their scale’s history feature. Taehyung used to hover around 137 pounds, now the chubby boy clocked in at 170.

170 pounds sat right on Yoongi’s poor dick.

This was going to be a long match…

After months of weekly take out, and daily snacking sessions, it was about time that Taehyung started having trouble with his pants. He’d grown a little bottom heavy over time and he wasn’t sure how to feel about it. On one hand he really didn’t care what size he was, but on the other, he values Yoongi’s opinion more than anything in the world. What if he was grossed out by him?

Thoughts for later.

Grunting and groaning, Taehyung’s double belly wobbled viciously as he jumped up and down trying to squeeze his dimpled thunder thighs into his favorite pair of jeans. It’d been a while since he’s worn them, having defaulted to his comfier pair of sweats for the past month and a half while he was between jobs.

Now, he had a job interview in an hour and needed to wear something other than stained sweatpants and BO coated tank top. Besides, that one tended to leave a bit of his lower belly hanging out to jiggle for all to see. It was fine when he was at home alone or with Yoongi, but he somehow doubted that a potential employer would approve of it.

“Dammit!” Taehyung flopped onto his bed, causing the springs to creak from the sudden weight. “I guess 276 pounds is officially the limit for Levi’s…”

With a brief knock at the door, Yoongi came in to see Taehyung looking like someone gave up on pulling the pants up their too fat Barbie doll and just tossed it on their bed for later. “Taehyungie?”

“Don’t start. I know how I look.”

“I wasn’t gonna say anything.” Yoongi held up one hand in surrender, the other holding a medium sized box. “I actually brought you something that I think will help you out.”

Taehyung lifted his head, giving himself a double chin. “What is it? A present?”

“Kinda…” Yoongi blushed. “I saw the other day that you kept pulling down your shirt, so I decided to grab you some more clothes… Uhm, bigger ones.” He mumbled that last part, hoping that Taehyung didn’t take the gesture badly.

Taehyung again wasn’t sure how to feel. Yoongi went out of his way to cater to his larger size and buy him new clothes, that had to mean that he didn’t hate him right? Otherwise, Taehyung had no qualms about going up in size, it was just part of getting fatter.

“Thank you, Yoongi.” Taehyung smiled, deciding to be touched by the effort. “Lemme try ‘em on.”

The ones on top of the pile, XXL, fit perfectly.

Both men ignored the bottom pile of XXXXL outfits.

Besides, it was smart to have clothes with room to grow on hand.

“-Urp!- Can I have some more, Yoonie?” Taehyung burped politely into his fist. “I’m all out…” He set down his big gulp cup in the cup holder of their new sofa, Taehyung having broken their old one.

Yoongi called out from the kitchen, “Coming up!” The sound of a blender cut out anything else he might have said.

Taehyung’s tummy grumbled. The large double belly hung off of the couch, between his legs and rested on the floor. It’d been over a year since he’d started seriously gaining weight and he already found that most of his days began and ended with his massive ass on the sofa, stuffing his face with whatever Yoongi presented to him.

It was a special occasion this time though, he’d reached 637 pounds that morning. A full 500 pounds more than his starting weight. He and Yoongi never really discussed what they were doing with Taehyung’s body, they just both knew they didn’t mind it. Maybe it was a subconscious effort to see how far they could go, maybe it was just their love language in action. Either way, Taehyung had seriously ballooned and he didn’t care at all.

“Here you are.” Yoongi stepped into the living room, handing a second big gulp cup to Taehyung. “I added some prunes this time. You know you need more fiber.”

“But Hyung!” Taehyung whined. “You know that makes me gassy…”

“Everything makes you gassy nowadays.” Yoongi deadpanned.

“True.” Taehyung sighed. He brought the cup up to his lips ad began gulping.

And gulping.

He whined slighting as the mixture hit his stomach heavily. Yoongi immediately came over and began massaging his taught upper belly. Willing his stomach to digest faster. To grow fatter.

Gulp.

Sluuuuurp…

Gasping for air, Taehyung hiccuped loudly. “That- hic! Was so good, Yoongi.”

-UUUUURP!-

Taehyung let out a loud belch.

Yoongi continued rubbing his hard gut, encouraging the release of gas, used to it by now. “That’s it baby, keep going.”

-Buur…BrrruUUUUUUuUuuUup!”-

That last one was gurgley.

Panting and still hiccuping, Taehyung rested his chubby hands on his bulging love handles and squeezed. “Look what your excellent cooking has done to me, Yoongi. I’m huge!”

“I know, Taehyungie.” Yoongi slipped his hand into Taehyung’s cavernous belly button, hidden between his sagging upper and lower bellies and wiggled his long fingers. “I know.”

Taehyung moaned, only recently getting used to Yoongi’s courageous showings of affection. “Y-Yeah… Here’s to another 500.”

End.

#pudgeprojects #cw gas #cw burping #bts feederism

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moni-logues · 2 years ago

Text

A Fine Line 11

Pairing: Namjoon x f!reader

Genre: roommates/enemies-to-lovers, non-idol!au, smut, angst

Word count: 6.7k

Summary: It’s time to rebuild your life. You’ve got a new job, a new apartment, and a future that might be bright. The only problem? Your new roommate.

Content: unprotected sex, oral sex (f. receiving)

Chapter Ten | Masterlist | Epilogue 1

11 - Luxury

You expected it to feel heavy. You expected to feel the weight of this… this something, this expectation, this obligation. You thought you’d feel pressure to fix yourself immediately, to work things out and get things together as soon as you could, sooner. You thought it would crush you, the way so many things had over the past eight months.

You didn’t expect to feel sad. Suddenly, overwhelmingly sad for two full days. Sad about the end of your marriage, not because you missed your husband or regretted leaving, but because of what it could have been, should have been, and wasn’t. No one goes into their marriage expecting it to end; no one says ‘I do’ with any kind of caveat. Yet here you were. Still married, technically, but not really. Separated. You thought about your younger self, on your wedding day, on your honeymoon, on the last day you were truly happy before he confronted you with the truth he had been hiding from you forever. You were sad about everything you had hoped for and everything you had dreamt of and none of it, not a bit, coming true. Nothing had gone as you thought it would and you were now almost 30 and had spent your whole twenties locked into this mess. You were sad that this was the future your younger self had been led to. She wouldn’t be getting any of that time back. You wouldn’t be getting happiness in lieu of the lack of hers. She felt like a different person and you were sad, sorry for her. But you were grateful to be you. You’d be getting nothing back from that life and you realised you didn’t want anything. The things you’d pawned for money (valuables, family heirlooms) were long gone and there wasn’t anything else you missed.

You felt light. Lighter than you had felt for a very long time. And you were surprised to find that you didn’t mistrust it. You didn’t shy from it or try to twist it into something worse. You wore it and it was easy. This was new for you.

“So you’re going to be with him?” Lina asked over her wine glass on Tuesday evening.

“Well, yes, I just… I am, I want to, but-”

You had been thinking this over the past few days. You’d been getting your ducks in a row like you said you would. You were looking at things differently now, letting things fall into places they should have been sitting for some time. You could see clearly there was a path in front of you and all you had to do was follow it. So why hadn’t you leapt into Namjoon’s arms already?

“I don’t want to be taken care of,” you told Lina. “I don’t want him to look at me like I’m vulnerable or pitiable or like he has to provide for me or something, y’know? I almost regret telling him everything because now it feels like it’s in the way. It was in the way before, too, but differently, and now I can’t get past the idea that he wants to fix me. I don’t want him to.”

“Have you tried telling him this?”

“Not yet.”

Lina rolled her eyes.

“At what point, y/n, are you going to learn to actually communicate?”

“Give me a fucking break! This has been hard for me!”

“Yeah, and you know why it’s been hard? Because you’re a terrible communicator!”

You kicked her from your end of the sofa and pulled a face at her.

“Maybe he doesn’t want to fix you.”

“I think he does. You didn’t see how he looked at me. The kindness-”

“For the love of god, don’t tell me you’re criticising him for being kind.”

“I’m not criticising! I’m just saying that he’s kind and he’s nice and he’s rich and successful and I’m like a baby bird who fell out of her nest into his apartment; wouldn’t you want to fix me?”

“I see your point. But, based on what you’ve told me, it’s not exactly like he’s been treating you with kid gloves this whole time, is it? He seems pretty happy to a) throw you around and b) argue with you and call you on shit. Don’t project your insecurity onto him. If you feel you need to be fixed, maybe that’s your problem.”

“Oh, fuck off! Can’t you just be wrong about something for once?”

It had been nice between you and Namjoon since the weekend. Companiable. You talked, had actual conversations and not arguments. Neither of you defensive any longer, neither trying to hide. You cooked for the two of you; he washed up. You sat together: you watched TV while he read or you read while he worked or some other permutation of quiet activities you did separately, but together. He hadn’t mentioned a thing about being together, about what progress you were making, about when you would be able to be his. You were sleeping in your own bed again and he didn’t mention that, either. Little touches here and there were all you had and you were desperate for more, aching for him, but there was an unspoken agreement between the two of you that all of that, even the lightest, smallest of kisses, had to wait.

You sat at the dinner table, finishing your meal, when Namjoon came back from work.

“Hey,” you said, putting down your cutlery. You vaguely gestured to the seat opposite you and he sat, surprised. “I just want to say something.”

“Ok.”

“I don’t really know how to say this because I think it’s probably just me, but I, uh, am basically poor. And you are basically rich. And I don’t have my shit together, at all. And you do, or at least you mostly appear to. I have been acting out most of the time that we’ve known each other because my life fell apart and I didn’t know what to do about it and you, uh, I don’t know, have mostly acted I guess normally? Or fine, probably not honourably but y’know.”

“Ok.”

“I just… We’re- our lives are in different stages and mine is kind of embryonic right now and I just… I need it to be mine. I don’t want you to… well, not help, because that sounds bad, but I don’t want you-”

“I don’t want to control your life. I’m not going to try to do that. I want you to have your own life, whatever kind of life you want. I don’t want to change you or control you.”

“I don’t want you to try to fix me.”

“Ohh. And what does fixing you look like?”

“Uh, I don’t know, really. I guess don’t try to solve all my problems? Or maybe, wait until I ask for help instead of leaping in?”

He blushed, deeper than you’d ever seen him blush before and he grimaced.

“Well, this is a little bit awkward.”

“What?”

Namjoon sighed and took an envelope out of his bag and, out of that envelope, a sheaf of paper.

“Um… Here.” He lay the papers on the table between you. “They are my bank statements: current account, business account, savings accounts, pension, private pension, investment portfolio, stuff like that. Also, business cards for my financial advisor, investment account manager, and accountant… who have all already agreed you can talk to them about me.”

You just stared back at him, nonplussed.

“I know it’s not about the money- it’s not just about the money, but I wanted you to know that that’s not a concern, that wouldn’t be an issue. You don’t have to worry about it, or anything. I can- uh, well, I was going to say I can take care of you but not in a paternalistic kind of way! I know you can take care of yourself. I just… I want to show you that, that… I want you to have everything you want. And I want to be the one who gives it to you and I want to prove to you that I can. And I have nothing to hide from you. Promise.”

“Oh.”

You didn’t know what to say. You were dying with curiosity to know just exactly how much money he had; you weren’t sure that was a very good colour on you.

“I can take them back,” he said quickly, reaching out a hand for the papers.

“No,” you responded, just as quickly. “If you want to brag about all your riches, I’ll let you.”

“It’s not like that!”

You laughed.

“I know it’s not. Thank you. For the thought. I, um, I don’t really know how to take it.”

“Sorry.”

“No, I appreciate it, I think. It’s nice. It’s weird. I don’t… I’m not interested in taking your money.”

“I know! I didn’t mean that! I wasn’t trying to imply that you were.”

A silence fell upon you, slightly awkward but with good intentions. Namjoon was the first to break it.

“But… But if yo-… How much is your debt?”

Your face burnt immediately. You didn’t want to tell him. It was too much, much too much.

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“It’s… more than I earn in a year… Less than… I don’t know- um…” You grabbed the bank statement on the top of the pile and had to do a double-take when you saw the balance. Your mouth hung open. You checked: current account statement. You had never seen that many figures in a bank balance in your life. “But less than-” your voice was hoarse with shock. “Less than you have in your account right now.”

You lapsed back into silence as you checked the rest of his statements. He had so much money, it made you anxious; your stomach started churning and your pulse quickened. Your mouth went suddenly dry and you could hear a ringing in your ears. These numbers were huge, terrifying, intimidating, overwhelming. Your heart was in your throat and you couldn’t breathe. You looked at Namjoon, eyes wide, and clutched at your chest, willing it to open up and allow you to take a breath, but it wouldn’t. You tried to stand up from the table, but the chair fell back behind you and you caught your foot on it, falling to the floor with a hard crash.

Namjoon was at your side in a second, saying something but you couldn’t hear him. Were you having a heart attack? Was it a stroke? An aneurysm? You didn’t know and it made the panic worse.

Namjoon was holding you tight, pushing your hair off your face, his words coming at you like the teacher in Charlie Brown: indistinct, unheard. You clutched the front of his shirt and looked up at him, desperate, pleading. He squeezed tighter, his arms gently crushing you.

You thought it would go on forever; it already felt like it had been forever that you hadn’t been able to breathe, but eventually, slowly, you realised you could hear Namjoon’s voice, feel it rumbling in his chest.

“It’s ok,” he was saying. “I’m here. I’m here. You’ll be ok. I’ve got you. You’re going to be fine.”

You pushed back lightly on his chest and his arms loosened, but didn’t let you go. You wrapped your arms around his neck and hooked your chin over his shoulder, just holding on. He rubbed your back and stroked your hair and waited until you sank back down, curling into him again.

“Are you ok?” he asked. “Tell me what you need if you can.”

You shook your head and opened your mouth to speak but nothing would come out. As if your throat was somehow blocked, you couldn’t make a sound and the panic surged again and you looked at Namjoon, wild-eyed and frantic, for him to do something as you started hyperventilating again.

He pulled you in close, his strong arms holding you tight.

“It’s ok,” he said. “Don’t talk. It’s ok. I’m sorry. It’s ok. You’re safe, I promise. I promise.”

You waited longer, this time, until you could breathe again and hear and see. You were gently weeping, your breath shaky but there, and he still didn’t let you go.

“I’m ok,” you croaked. “I think I’m ok.”

“I’ll get you some water,” he replied, but you didn’t let him take his arms from around you.

You shook your head and held him tight.

“Ok, I won’t go. I won’t go anywhere. I’m here.”

You sat like that a while longer, until you could no longer feel your heart beating against your ribs. You shuffled, stiff from having stayed still for so long.

“Sorry,” you said to Namjoon. “You must be so uncomfortable on the hard floor.”

He chuckled.

“I’m ok. I’m fine. Are you ok?”

“Yes. Sorry-”

“Don’t apologise. It’s ok. As long as you’re ok.”

You nodded.

“Was that your first panic attack?”

“Oh… That’s what it was… Yes.”

“Rough?”

“I thought I was going to die.”

He rubbed your back and hummed.

“Not on my watch.” He paused. “Do you want to talk about it? Should I- did I-… Was it because of me?”

You didn’t know how to answer that question. Yes. No. Both true. Both inaccurate. You answered with the simplest fact you knew.

“I’ve never seen that much money before.”

“And it gave you a panic attack?”

“I don’t know. I just… I thought about losing it all. All of that money just gone, disappearing. I thought about the responsibility of it, having all of that, losing it.”

You felt your pulse quicken and you had to stop, stop talking about it, stop remembering it.

“But you won’t lose it. It’s mine, for a start.” He poked you in the side and you squirmed. “And you didn’t lose any money; you didn’t have any because your husband lost it. That’s not your fault.”

“His money and my money were the same. It all just disappeared. And those numbers-” you glanced up at the table top where the bank statements still lay – “they were so big. I just couldn’t think about it. How do you… How do you cope with having that much money?”

“I promise you, it’s real fucking easy.”

“But I mean… You must not have to worry about anything. You’re- you’re safe. You’re secure. You could get fired and just… be fine for ages. You could live anywhere. You could buy anything you want. I don’t know- I don’t know how to live like that.”

He gave you a soft squeeze and pressed his lips into your hair.

“That’s a really sad thing you’ve just said.”

“Maybe-”

And then it hit you. All of Namjoon’s money, his wealth, his passive income… He was free. Free in a way you had never been and could never hope to be. It was freedom that made you panic; freedom that you couldn’t have, the possibility of which had been taken away from you. You were trapped, you realised. You were still trapped. You left your husband, left your cage, but you were still in debt, trapped as it bled you slowly and would do for years and years to come. The end was barely in sight. And even once your debts were paid, you wouldn’t be free. You wouldn’t have investments; you would have a new savings account, absolutely empty. It was never just about money; the absence of money in your life was also an absence of freedom and the thought of that money, all Namjoon’s money, just going away, all that freedom gone… You couldn’t bear it. And that was what was different between you; your lives would never be the same, could never be the same.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad or show off or anything. I just wanted you to know that I’m not him. I’m not like him. I promise.”

Silence fell and you didn’t know what to say to fill it, so you let it linger.

“Look, I know you said you don’t want me to fix you or offer you help when you haven’t asked and I know you said you don’t want my money but… Would you let me pay off your debt?”

“What?”

“Let me pay off your debt. You said yourself it’s less than I have in my current account. I can do it. Easy. Will you let me?”

“Why, why- why… I… wh- why would you do that?”

“So you don’t have to.” He shrugged and you could not believe his nonchalance.

“I don’t understand. Why would you? Why would you want to do that?”

“Because I can. How long will it take you to be debt-free?”

“If I stick to my debt management plan, I will make my final payment in 2030.”

“In eight years?”

“Yes.”

“I could pay that literally right this second. Look.”

He stretched up to grab the statements from the table and flicked through them until he found the right one.

“Look here,” he said, pointing at the very same bank balance to which you had compared your debt. “This is money I have access to right now. I could go to the bank and have this money immediately. Well, actually, I don’t know how much cash they hold in banks, so maybe I couldn’t, but I could transfer it to you immediately. You can have it. You can pay off your debt. You can. I want you to. I want to do that for you. I’m not trying to control you, I swear. And, actually-”

He shuffled on the floor next to you and turned so you were facing each other and he gripped you by the arm. He looked determined, excited. You hadn’t seen him like this before and you didn’t know how to take it.

“Look, even if you reject me, if you don’t want me, if you don’t want to be with me, if I gave you the money and you paid off your debt and then immediately moved out and never spoke to me again, I wouldn’t come after you. You can have it. Just have it. Take it.”

“I just don’t understand.”

You had been so careful with money for so long, you’d had to be, that hearing him say things like that was like hearing a foreign language. You couldn’t believe anyone would just give up that much money. It was so much. Too much.

“It’s so much money,” you whispered, overawed by his offer, still embarrassed by your circumstances.

“I mean, not to be a huge dick, but… It’s not. Not to me.”

His gaze softened and he let his hand drift to your knee.

“You don’t have to take it. No pressure. You don’t have to take it; you don’t have to be with me, even. I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to. But I want you to want to take it and I want you to want to be with me. I know you have your ducks to get in a row and I want to be a duck and I don’t want this to… to change anything. I’m sorry if I’m out of line, but I care about you and I want you to have this. I want you to have the life you deserve and, if I can help, I want to help.”

You almost swore you saw a light blush on his cheeks as he said it, as he looked at you, more openly than he ever had. Your stomach lurched and you didn’t know if it was the panic attack or him; your heart thumped again in your chest and you didn’t know if it was anxiety or him.

“I don’t know,” you said, a little plaintive.

“That’s ok. Take your time.”

He took your face in his hands, gently, carefully, and kissed you above your eyebrow. He lingered like that, just a second, and pressed another, lighter kiss in the same spot. Butterflies swarmed in your stomach and you knew it was him, this time. You grabbed his wrists, holding his hands against your cheeks. He moved his face backwards and looked at you, searchingly.

“Can you, can you please kiss me?” You were breathless already.

He frowned at you, hesitating, unsure.

“Please,” you repeated. “Please just kiss me.”

He moved his face closer again, still hesitant, his eyes fixed on yours, even as he nudged your nose with his. You closed the gap between you and pressed your lips against his.

The reaction in you was instantaneous. Your body called for him with urgent longing. You felt it even in your bones, this aching. You rose on your knees, pulling him with you, just so you could press your bodies together, holding him tight with your hands around his hips. Then he pulled back, breaking the kiss, but staying close. You looked at him and he closed his eyes, shook his head, swallowed hard.

“I don’t,” he started and then stopped.

“Don’t what?”

“I don’t want to have you if I can’t have you,” he said, his voice low. “I don’t want to have you one more time if I can’t have you a hundred times after that. You needed time and I want to give you that time. You weren‘t ready and I don’t wan- If you’re not ready, it’s fine. It’s ok, but I want… I want this to matter. It matters to me.”

“It matters to me, too.”

You sighed and sank back onto your knees. You hadn’t been ready before and you weren’t one hundred percent sure you were now, not really. You didn’t know how to understand it, how to make him understand it.

“I don’t… It is the money, in a way. Like you said, it’s not about the money but it is about the money. I can’t match you on any of it. I can’t buy you nice presents or afford expensive holidays or dinners or clothes. I’m not… the sort of person you should be with.”

“I don’t care if you can’t afford those things. I can. I can afford them for both of us if you want them. I want you to be free to be whoever and whatever you want and, if I can buy that freedom, it’ll be the best fucking money I’ve ever spent in my life.”

You couldn’t think about it. It was too much: his generosity, his kindness, the possibility of being debt-free after all these years, the thought of having enough disposable income to make savings, to afford things? You felt dizzy with it. It was too much. You felt like you were wanting too much, being too greedy.

You looked at him. He looked at you.

“What if I want your money but not you?” you asked.

“Fine.” He shrugged. “Take it. I… You can take it. I won’t come after you, but… please don’t choose that option.”

“What if I want your money and you?”

“Ideal.” His smile split his face in half and his hands squeezed you lightly. “My preferred outcome.”

“What if I want you but not your money?”

“I will accept half of that decision and still try to convince you to take my money, at least some of it. If I’m honest.”

“What if I don’t want you or your money?”

He tipped his head back and grimaced playfully.

“Please, don’t.” He tapped his forehead against yours. “But I would obviously respect your decision; might even still try to convince you to take my money.”

“Would you kick me out?”

“No! Of course not!”

“Would you fuck me?”

“No.”

“Let me sleep in your bed?”

“No.”

“Kiss me, even a little?”

“No.”

“Hmm, I’m starting to see the appeal of this option…”

“Hey.” He nudged your nose and jiggled your hips. “Don’t be mean.”

You took his face in your hands and brought your lips together again. There was a small part of you furious with yourself for having foregone his kisses for so long. You wouldn’t make that mistake again.

“I don’t know,” you whispered, still shaken. “I-… You’re my final duck and I want you right there, here, but I feel… I don’t feel… I’m… You’re…”

“Just tell me,” he whispered back to you. “It’s ok, just say it.”

“I’m not good enough for you. I don’t deserve it.”

“Says who?”

“Um, I don’t know. I guess, me?”

“Well, no offence, but you’re dumb as fuck.”

“Hey!”

“I’m serious. That’s stupid. I’m old enough to make my own decisions, aren’t I? Aren’t you?”

You thought he was asking rhetorical questions but he waited for your answer.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Well, then. And I’ve decided. I’ve told you. I want to be with you. Whether or not you take my money. And I want you to have my money whether or not you want to be with m-”

“I do want to be with you. I do. I meant it when I said it. I want it. Bu-”

“No. No buts. No ifs. No maybes. No justs. What do you want?”

Every cell in your body, every atom, called his name at once. Namjoon. Him. That’s what you wanted. And you wanted to be worthy of him. You didn’t feel it, but maybe that was your problem. It didn’t have to be his, too.

“I want you.”

He needed to hear no more. He kissed you and you expected it to be hard and hungry but he was soft and slow. Gentle, even as he sucked your bottom lip into his mouth and bit down on it. Slow, as he rolled his tongue over yours. Soft, peppering kisses all over, mapping your face with his lips.

“Namjoon,” you whispered, your voice high and needy.

You felt weak in his arms, melting against him, bones dissolving as your blood fizzed with pleasure. He murmured your name back to you and kissed your neck, pulling your hair aside and using it to tug your head to the side, still gentle, still soft. He stopped when you whimpered and he sucked at that spot, sending fresh waves of arousal coursing through you, pooling in your underwear. He slipped his hands underneath your T-shirt; his hands were warm against your skin, covering you, caressing you.

His lips found yours again and you sighed into his kiss, both impatient to touch him and be touched by him and also wanting this to last forever.

“I will eat you slowly with kisses,” you whispered when he let your mouth free.

“What?”

“It’s from a poem.”

You hummed against him when he kissed you and frowned, your mind searching, distracted by him.

“I can’t- I don’t remember the rest of it.”

He chuckled low in his throat.

“No need. I will eat you slowly with kisses. The end.”

He swallowed your reply with another kiss and then he stood, pulling you up with him. He lifted you and you wrapped your legs around him and kissed his face as he carried you to his bedroom.

He lay you gently on the bed and pushed up your T-shirt, pulling it over your head. You shivered and goosebumps spread over your skin when he put his lips on you. He was mapping your body, too, no spot left untouched or unexplored. You felt exposed, suddenly self-conscious under his rapt attention and you wanted to cover your nakedness. You thought about your body through his eyes: was it too small, too big, too bumpy? Too much, not enough? What was he looking at when he was looking at you, all your marks and scars and flaws? You hadn’t really cared before but, this was different. You instinctively brought your arms together, trying to cover your chest but Namjoon took your wrists and brought your hands high on either side of your head. He looked at you seriously.

“Hey, don’t hide from me. I want to see you. Let me look at you.”

And look at you, he did. He sat back, still holding your arms open, and let his eyes roam. Then he trailed his fingers down your arms, across your chest, and down, splaying over your stomach. He shuffled back and hooked his fingers in the waistband of your trousers. You tipped your hips to let him remove them without a second’s thought and then blushed deeply as he took your underwear with them and you were naked under that penetrating gaze. You tried to pull your legs up, cross them, do something, but he held you gently at the ankles and left kisses all over your legs. As his mouth moved up your thighs, your core throbbed and walls clenched, your emptiness wailing inside of you. A soft gasp of a moan left your lips as he skirted up your hips and crossed your stomach with his lips.

“Namjoon,” you whined, needy and impatient. He ignored you and continued his way back up to your face and he kissed your lips.

“See?” he asked. “It’s not so bad, is it? Being seen?”

“I don’t want to be seen; I want to be touched.”

He grinned.

“Oh, don’t worry, we’ll get there. Have patience.”

You sighed with frustration.

“Namjoon… You’re going to kill me,” you told him weakly.

“Only a little.”

He kissed your nose and moved back to your neck as his hand cupped your breast, fingers teasing at your nipple sending a shiver down your spine.

You relaxed into the mattress and let your mind empty, focusing only on what you could feel. Namjoon’s tongue licking over your breast, taking your nipple in his hot, wet mouth. His tongue was alternately soft and hard, teasing you to a hard peak, eliciting quiet whimpers from you as you grew more and more desperate to feel him inside you.

You wanted to tangle his hair in your fingers, but it was so short now, you had to settle for gripping it tight, just barely able to. You wanted to tug on it, pull him from your chest and push him down. For a brief second, you thought he might’ve cut it deliberately so you couldn’t, so he could have his way with you. At that second, he popped his mouth off you and finally made his way lower.

You were hypersensitive already with urgent need. You didn’t know if you could last another minute. Desire sat low in your abdomen, huge and heavy. You ached in your core while your walls squeezed against his absence, waiting and more than ready to feel him again. Your clit felt as if it was spitting sparks, swollen, throbbing, pulsing. As Namjoon made his way lower and lower, you thought you might just go off at the thought of him. The anticipation of his mouth against made you feel as if you’d had a straight gram of caffeine injected into your veins: you were jittery, shaky, almost dizzy with it.

He kissed your inner thigh – kissed, licked, sucked, nipped. He licked the full crease of your hip. He pushed your legs further apart and you were halfway through a sigh of relief when he moved his kisses farther away, down towards your knee, his hand grasping your thigh.

“Namjoon, fuck.” Your voice was tremulous, strained. “Please.”

“Y’know something?” he said, resting his cheek against your thigh and looking up at you. “I will never get tired of hearing you say that.” His smile was almost dreamy as he just looked at you, stroking your leg with one hand, with the other wrapped around your thigh.

“Can you please, please just touch me now? Fucking hell, I’m dying.”

He chuckled and pressed a kiss against your thigh.

“I just want to get to know your body.”

“You know it already! You know it, please.”

You fisted the bedsheets and threw your head back in frustration as he continued kissing down your legs. You were almost opening your mouth to tell him that this wasn’t fun anymore, when he finally put his mouth on you and licked through your folds. Your back arched instantly, a choked gasp where your admonition had been.

“Fucking finally,” you breathed and he pinched you in retaliation.

Soft curses left you as he sealed your clit with a kiss and slipped his fingers inside you. The pressure was building so quickly, you couldn’t catch your breath. Overwhelmed with pleasure, you were gasping for air; your head was buzzing as the ecstasy at your core coursed through your veins. You were so close, so close, and Namjoon stopped suddenly and looked up at you.

“Are you ok?”

“What? Yes, fuck, Namjoon, don’t fucking stop! I was fucking close.”

“You sounded like you were hyperventilating. I didn’t wa-”

“Namjoon, please, you can be as considerate as you like after I’ve fucking come. Please.”

“Ok ok! Yes, ma’am.”

You sighed a thank you as he resumed, taking his fingers from you to lick through your folds and drink you up. As he fucked you with his tongue, his fingers played at your clit and you were rising again, the dissipated pleasure back and then some. He swapped again, the soft plane of his tongue against your burning, sparking clit and his fingers crooked inside you. You were riding a wave that was about to crash with thunder onto the shore. You grabbed what you could of his hair and held him tight, desperate for him not to dare move; you were sure you’d explode if you didn’t come right then, right that second. And you did, tumbling into the sand as pleasure washed over and around you. Namjoon held fast as you shuddered and fell back, rocking you through your orgasm, and then he retreated, appearing in front of you as your head span.

“Can I ask if you’re ok now?”

“I’m good. I’m good.”

“Were you ok?”

“Yes, I was fine, I swear. It wasn’t panic. I’m fine. I’m good.”

“Good.”

He kissed your clavicle and you pushed a hand through his hair.

“Actually, I’m not good,” you said, pouting at him. Concern fell across his face again instantly.

“What’s wrong?”

You gave his short hair a sharp tug.

“I don’t like it.”

He was surprised, almost laughing, but not quite sure.

“You said it looked good.”

“It does, but it’s too short!” You demonstrated your inability to tangle your fingers in it and he laughed, surely this time.

“Ok, ok, I’ll grow it out. Will that make you happy?”

“Mm, yes please.”

You pulled his face to you and kissed him hard, tasting yourself on his lips, on his tongue. With your limbs still heavy, you pushed him backwards and around, sitting him against the headboard and climbing over him. You took his ready, leaking cock in your hand and rolled your hips, coating him in your slick before you sank slowly down on him, sighing through the stretch. At the bottom, you sat for a moment, ran your hands over his chest, down his arms; he caught your hands and raised them to his lips, kissing your palms, your fingertips. You felt warm, watching him, tracing his face with your fingers, goosebumps sprinkling across your skin wherever he ran his hands. You kissed him and he murmured against your lips.

“You feel so fucking good right now.”

You hummed your agreement. His head tipped back. You shuffled a little on top of him, canting your hips backwards and then forwards just once.

“Uh huh, so good. Keep doing that.”

But you didn’t and he flicked you on the hip. He brought his head back and looked at you, realisation dawning.

“Oh, this is payback, is it?” He circled his arms around you and pulled your body flush with his. “Fine. I don’t mind. I like being inside you.”

He might have been telling the truth that he liked being inside you but you could feel his heart fluttering in his chest, could feel the way he swallowed hard as you clenched against him, his breathing hitched for just a second. You kissed his jaw and his earlobe and his neck and he breathed out unevenly. You grazed your fingers over first one nipple and then the next. You blew, lightly, on his neck, sending a shiver down his spine and he grunted softly.

“I like you being inside me, too,” you said, also telling the truth, but equally, finding yourself frustrated at his stubbornness, his ability to hold out. You wanted to move, wanted to ride him into the sunset, but you had set this up and you wanted him to beg you.

He grunted again in response, his eyes closed.

“Namjoon,” you cooed, trying to call him back, but he gave nothing. “Joonie?”

His eyes flicked open and he looked at you.

“You like Joonie?”

“That’s not what you call me,” he said, his voice strained with the effort of keeping it level. You felt him twitch inside you and it spurred you on.

“No, but it could be. My Namjoon. My Joonie.”

His dick jumped each time you used the word ‘my’ and your heart swelled three sizes. You decided to be nice, go easy on him, and as you pressed your lips against his, you lifted up and slowly lowered yourself back onto him. He let out a shaky exhale and his hands gripped your hips.

“Do you feel good?”

He gave a moan that was almost a yelp in reply and turned his eyes skyward.

“There’s no one up there, Namjoon.”

He laughed, you thought, a strangled sound escaping from him as you moved faster, harder, slamming yourself onto him. The way he filled you up so completely made your head spin, every stroke adding fuel to the flames in your core. When Namjoon pressed his fingers against your clit, you had to dig into his shoulders, holding on tight.

“Yes, I feel good,” he moaned. “You feel fucking amazing. Shit.”

Your thighs were burning but you couldn’t tell if it was just because they were tired or you were close. You couldn’t stop, bouncing on him while your thighs screamed, while your cunt quivered, while your breath was swept away. You didn’t know if you would make it until you came, didn’t know if your legs would hold out, if you could keep up your rhythm as the pleasure poured over you, heavier and heavier.

“You’re close,” Namjoon groaned, his teeth gritted, voice harsh and gruff.

“Uh huh, yeah,” you whimpered in reply, tailing off into a high-pitched whine as he bit down on your neck. You could tell he was trying not to come, could feel his thighs beneath you, rock hard with tension, his whole body tight and waiting, waiting for you.

Your hands were shaking, even as they gripped him, and you shuddered and shivered, barely hanging on as you came. Your body shook from head to toe, your climax setting you alight. As soon as he felt you, shaking above him, thighs pinning him to the bed, walls clenching tight on him, he huffed a heavy exhale, letting go and coming with you, lifting your hips to milk out the last of his orgasm.

“I almost didn’t make it, shit.” He kissed your head as you flopped against him. “Fuck, thank you.”

You hummed, sated and sticky, warm in his arms, your head on his shoulder. You were in no rush to move and neither was he, even as his cum started to leak from you, even as he started to soften inside you.

He looked down at you, dopey and love-drunk, and kissed you gently, barely there. He kissed your nose and your eyebrow and your cheek, your lips and the space between your brows and your temple, little butterfly kisses that said ‘I’m here’. It felt like indulgence, like luxury, the way he continued to lavish attention on you, even spent, even after the fact. A warmth spread outwards from your heart, rushing through to your extremities. You had forgotten this kind of softness, this kind of joy. This simple, exquisitely sweet pleasure that cost nothing and was the most valuable gift you’d ever been given.

Life was hard. There would always be things in life that would be hard, that made your blood run cold, that kept happiness from your door. But, now, there was also Namjoon, who was soft, and warm, and brought happiness right to your bed.

Chapter Ten | Masterlist | Epilogue 1

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polizwrites · 7 months ago

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Baring His Soul

This is a fill for today’s @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt [#FFF252 Spill the tea] as well as my @steverogersbingo B2 - Streaking square.

Fandom: MCU/Marvel Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers Rating: Teen Tags: No Powers AU, College AU, pre-serum!Steve, mutual pining Summary: Bucky stands up for his crush, despite his crazy stunt.

Word Count: 634

“Did you hear who went streaking across the quad this morning?”

Bucky didn’t generally make a habit of eavesdropping, but even he couldn’t resist listening in to a classmate who was apparently about to share a juicy bit of campus gossip. Usually it was Natasha who was spilling the tea - but apparently Jack had the latest news this time around.

“It wasn’t Thor again, was it?” Brock replied. The transfer student had an unfortunate habit of using the community hot tub in the nude and nearly everyone on campus had been treated to the sight of his thunder thighs, as well as the hammer that hung between them.

“Nah - it was Steve Rogers, of all people.”

“Probably protesting something or other,” Brock snorted, “as if anyone cared what his scrawny bare ass thought.”

Bucky happened to care very much about Steve’s ass - bare or otherwise, and definitely not scrawny - as well as for Steve himself. Not that he’d breathed a word about it to anyone else.

“Did he get caught?” Brock asked the question that was on the tip of Bucky’s tongue.

“Yeah - but it was by Erskine, and everybody knows Rogers is his favorite student.” Bucky could almost hear Jack's eyes rolling. “He’ll probably just get his hand slapped.”

“That runt needs to get taken down a peg or two,” Brock muttered. “Always going on with that social justice woke bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit,” Bucky found himself saying. “And anyone with the courage to look outside their own little bubble knows it.”

“Nobody asked your opinion, Barnes,” Jack sneered.

“Well, you’re getting it anyways,” Bucky shot back. “Steve Rogers is twice the man that either of you could ever hope to be. He’s smart, talented, determined and kind -- he actually cares about people instead of seeing them as stepping stones.”

“Aw - do you have a crush on that skinny blond twerp or something?” Brock asked mockingly.

Bucky could feel his cheeks heating as he replied, “That’s beside the point. Now go crawl back under your rocks.” He stared them both down as the clock tower chimed quarter til the hour.

“If I didn’t have to get to practice,” Brock huffed, “I’d make you eat those words, Barnes.”

“Name the time and place, Brock,” Bucky answered steadily. “I stand by every word I said.”

Jack glanced behind Bucky and a smirk spread across his face. “Are you so sure about that, James?” He gestured showily before walking away.

Bucky turned to see Steve standing there. “How much did you hear of that?” he blurted out.

“I stopped just around the corner when I heard Brock running his big mouth,” Steve explained, grimacing slightly. “I appreciate you standing up for me, even if I don’t deserve it.”

“What do you mean?”

“The whole streaking thing,” Steve’s cheeks pinked as he scrubbed at the back of his neck with one hand, “was because I lost a bet with Sharon.”

Bucky blinked in surprise. “What kind of bet?”

Steve’s blush darkened. “To ask someone I really liked out on a date.”

“You’re telling me you’d rather sprint naked across the quad than ask some girl to go get coffee with you?”

“Not a girl. And not just some guy, either.” Steve inhaled sharply through his nose. “He’s handsome, smart and funny - and apparently he still managed to see the best in me even after this skinny blond twerp made an ass of himself.”

Bucky’s heart skipped a beat. “You heard all that, huh?”

Steve nodded. “So, it kind of sounded like maybe I could have asked him out after all?”

“Yeah.” Bucky swallowed hard. “Because he’s clearly too chicken-shit to ask you out.”

Steve gave him a shy smile and held out his hand. “How about we both be a little afraid together?”

“Sounds good to me.”

#writing stuff #flash fic friday #fanficlet #Stucky #College AU #shameless self promo

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kyleknight · 10 months ago

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Going Through A Phase

Once again inspired by @gingermaple's Red vs Blue/Hermitcraft AU. I simply cannot stop thinking about it. I've got a few more silly little ficlets to post for this, hehehe.

wordcount: 1756 warnings: minor violence, war setting brief summary: Joel and the rest of the Reds are getting really tired of all this Blue nonsense going around. Especially that crazy AI that's been infecting half the canyon and trying to turn everyone evil. ao3 link

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

Joe Hills is somewhere on this side of the gulch. The Reds have the Warthog parked on a hill that overlooks much of their territory and there hasn’t been a conspicuously blue armored guy running past their line of sight in at least an hour.

Joel assumes it’s been an hour, anyway. The heat from the vehicle’s engine combined with the heat from the unforgiving sun overhead is making him sweat like crazy. He can’t wait for Ren to inevitably get bored with hunting down the stray Blue and decide to return to the base to get back to more important business like doing nothing for the rest of the day. It’s going to be such a relief to get all this heavy armor and gear off.

At least Ren isn’t making him get out of the Warthog to look. The sergeant is in the other seat, peering through his tactical binoculars and making muffled noises of discontent every so often. A few paces in front of them, Tango is walking around, saying something under his breath.

There’s a stocky little tree a short distance away that looks like it’s wide enough to hide someone, but it’s partway up a hill and Joel really doesn’t want to get out. He thinks Tango might have noticed too, but the pink-armored man hasn’t gone for it yet.

Joel looks in the direction opposite the tree. “Where do you think Hills went?”

“I don’t see him,” Ren grits out, sounding annoyed.

“Joe!” Jimmy shouts, actually walking back and forth while pointing his gun out. “Get out here! We just want to talk! We’re not going to shoot you this time!”

Joel scoffs. “As if he’s gonna fall for that,” he says.

All of a sudden, there’s a sound from the radio. Which would be surprising on its own, because Joel didn’t realize the Warthog had a radio. It’s not like there’s any stations to pick up out here in Blood Gulch, the most miserable and forsaken post in the entire universe. They don’t even have the option to leave the canyon to go to a town, because the closest civilization is basically on the other side of the planet. So yeah, the radio noise is unexpected.

Of course, their helmets are all fitted with short-wave radios so they can all talk with each other when out in the field, but they just use those as basic communicators. Why contact a vehicle when you can just contact a person directly? They can even reach the Blues’ frequency if they want to.

“This is Freelancer Impulse broadcasting on an open channel—” “This is Private Bdubs broadcasting on an open—”

Joel punches buttons with his thumb until the sound cuts off. “Why are the Blues on the radio?” he says, looking over at Ren. “And since when did we have a radio?”

“Hm,” Ren says.

“Weird,” Jimmy says. “I’ll contact them. Hey, Blues! Get off our radio, you’re gonna waste the Warthog’s battery! Do it now, or I’ll kill every last one of you. And then everyone else here as well! You’d better watch out!”

What the heck. Joel leans partway out of the Warthog to look at Jimmy, who has stopped with the pacing and is now standing on top of a flat boulder. “That was pretty menacing,” he admits. “But I think that was a bit too much. I don’t think they’re going to take that kind of a threat seriously.”

“Shut up, you fool.”

Joel frowns. That was mean. Has Jimmy been out in the heat too long?

“Is everything alright, Jimmy?” Ren says, jumping out of the warthog and taking a few paces towards Jimmy. “You’re—”

“What? Acting strange?”

“Well… yes,” Ren says.

“Maybe this is what happens when I get mad and you all just never noticed the real me!” Jimmy says defiantly. “Maybe you’re all idiots who don’t know anything! Maybe you all suck!”

Joel winces and looks at Ren, who hasn’t moved at all.

“Um,” Tango says. “Jimmy… you’re not saying that to Ren, are you?”

“I mean— maybe you suck, sir!” Jimmy says quickly, his tone going frantic for a moment. “And maybe you don’t! But you do! And I’m going to kill all of you!” And he laughs, like an actual cartoon villain.

Joel rolls his eyes. What a dramatic idiot. “Jimmy, if you were getting dehydrated, you could have just said so,” he says. He grabs one of the canteens from the back and hops out of the Warthog. “Here, I’ve—”

There’s the sound of a gunshot. Joel’s hand hurts, suddenly. It takes a moment for him to connect these as related things. Jimmy— Jimmy just shot the canteen out of his hand. It’s lying on the ground now, its contents spilling into the dusty earth.

“Jimmy! You— you just shot Joel!” Tango gasps.

“What was that for?” Joel demands, holding his hand close to his chest.

“Did you just shoot at Joel?” Ren says. “Jimmy, explain yourself! What do you think you’re doing!?”

“Yes, I shot at Joel! Sir! Because he’s the first target in my plan! I’m going to take over Red base! And then the rest of the canyon, and then the rest of the universe! And then you’ll all finally respect me.”

“That’s an ambitious plan,” Tango says, taking a few steps away from where Jimmy is standing and stomping his foot occasionally in emphasis. “Also, uh. You’re aware that Ren is our sergeant, right? You can’t just take over.”

“Yeah, exactly!” Ren says. “If you’ve got ambitions for leadership, you’re going to have to take it up with Command, because Red base already has a commanding officer.”

“Well then I’ll just have to kill you first.”

Wait a second. Something isn’t quite right here. Joel rubs at his hand. He’s not bleeding, but he’s definitely going to have a nasty bruise from this.

Jimmy wouldn’t act like this. He doesn’t act like this. Even if he was having a bad day, he’d never say anything like this. He and Joel have sat together just about every night since they were first stationed here talking about everything. About nothing at all. About their lives, their hopes, their musings on the meaning of it all, their dreams for what they’d like to do when they’re finally free from this stupid war. About what kinds of food they miss, and how they’ve forgotten what snow feels like on their skin.

And about their insecurities as well. Joel has told Jimmy how he’s afraid he’s going to be stuck in this war forever and that he’ll never be able to create beautiful things someday. And Jimmy has confessed that he worries that people will never take him seriously. They’ve done what they could to comfort each other, because it’s all too easy to lose yourself to loneliness in a place like this.

Joel has seen Jimmy sad. He’s seen him frustrated and angry with himself. He’s seen him break down and cry.

But he’s never seen Jimmy act mean like this. He’s never made threats like this.

He’s too kind for that.

“Uh,” Joel says, leaning forwards a bit to catch Tango’s attention as Jimmy and Ren continue to argue. “Don’t you think Jimmy is acting weirdly… aggressive? Just like how Xisuma was acting?”

Tango goes slack and nearly drops his gun. “You don’t mean…”

“That evil AI,” Joel says. “Omega.”

Jimmy breaks into that ridiculous laughter again, and that seems to be what finalizes their conclusion. Joel stares at Jimmy in horror.

They’re going to have to do something… but what? They still don’t know how to deal with that creepy AI besides beating up its host until it jumps to something or someone else. Impulse seems to be the one who knows the most, but he’s with the Blues, so he’s out of the question right away.

“What are we gonna do?” Tango whispers, echoing Joel’s thoughts..

“I don’t want to hurt him,” Joel says. “It’s… it’s Jimmy. He doesn’t mean any of it.”

But Jimmy is pointing his rifle at them now, and a heavy weight drops in Joel’s stomach. He can’t fight Jimmy, he just can’t. But he doesn’t want Jimmy to hurt them, or for the Omega AI to continue controlling Jimmy’s actions and his words.

As he sits there, listening to Jimmy threaten them and wondering what they can possibly do about this, he sees two of the Blues running their way.

Bdubs.

And Impulse.

Impulse is making incredible speed, and before Joel can think to call out a warning to Jimmy, Impulse lunges and tackles Jimmy to the ground. Jimmy cries out, startled, but Impulse doesn’t hesitate to start punching him repeatedly.

“Hey!” Joel says, jumping out of the Warthog. “Get off of him!”

“He’s infected with the AI!” Impulse snaps.

“We know that!” Tango says. “But he’s our friend! You can’t just attack him!”

“Right now, he’s not your friend,” Impulse says, still punching at a shrieking Jimmy. “This is for his own good!”

“Impulse,” Ren says. “Now might not be the best time, what with Omega still loose and all. But I’d like to extend an offer for you to join the Red Army.”

“Now is definitely not the time!” Joel says. He levels his shotgun at the black-armored freelancer. “Impulse, if you don’t get off our friend, we’re going to shoot you!”

Impulse laughs. “Just try it, losers. I could take you all on with one hand tied behind my back.”

“Hey, Impulse, I think Omega is gone!” Tango says. “Jimmy’s voice is back to normal!”

Impulse pauses and slowly moves off the maroon-armored man. Below him, Jimmy is groaning and writhing weakly on the ground. Joel quickly hurries over to help him up. Tango helps, and together, they assist him in getting back over to the Warthog. Crucially, away from Impulse.

“Jimmy, are you alright?” he says.

“Ugh… I don’t think so,” Jimmy says. “Can we… can we get Xisuma over here? I think I might have broken something.”

Joel glares at Impulse, who has backed off a little but still looks threatening. It doesn’t take much to accomplish that— just about everything Impulse does is terrifying.

“Where’s it gone?” he demands. “Where’s Omega?”

“I don’t care,” Joel retorts. He and Tango have gotten Jimmy back onto the Warthog, and Ren is coming over to get back in the passenger seat. “That’s a Blue problem. You guys deal with it. Just stop dragging us Reds into all your crazy messes!”

#maple's rvb/hc au #mani playing with words

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seeminglyseph · 2 years ago

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I just realized I first read the HP series as a child specifically because I was really really into the Worst Witch TV show and the idea of a school of magic seemed cool to read more about, and then the escapist fantasy of Hogwarts was basically just... ‘what if I didn’t go to *this* school or live in *this* house and the things that I was and did were something to be proud of instead of embarrassed or ashamed’

it really is wild how much a person can be and become exactly the kind of awful and twisted reality they once offered an escape from. JKR is the person I daydreamed about going to Hogwarts to avoid, to be free from or learn the inner strength to overcome. And yeah, a lot of that was there the first time I read it, but some of the blessing of having a child’s comprehension skills or self centred perception of the world is that sometimes the shallow selfish part of the lesson isn’t terrible.

And I remember..... a series is always different before it finishes. Because being a teenager just after goblet of fire came out, it meant you could have a million fantasies and daydreams about what *could* happen, what might exist, and the maybes and questions were fun and the experience of a community interest was delightful.

I genuinely never finished the seventh book. by the time the series ended I was in a place where I was disillusioned by the source material. Often it felt like a malicious jab every time a new book came out, because it was a new surprise about how someone you’d grown to love was actually secretly a manipulative or selfish or abusive dickswab the whole time, there wasn’t a payoff to the house elves it just sat there, there wasn’t gonna be more depth to Draco Malfoy, there wasn’t going to be depth to slytherin, the Marauders weren’t the close found family we all wrote about, there was never going to be the deep bond between any secondary characters explored, and the character arcs you thought were being setup just... weren’t there to begin with. The way an end can re-contextualize a whole series is if it turns out that there is no payoff. There’s no reason, there’s no justice, no catharsis. Everything stays the way it is, and the things you care about are killed, and destroyed and cast aside and your hopes just kind of fall into a dull memory of a better story you made up in your head.

Loving Harry Potter when you were too young to know the deeper implications, or because it was before the internet was popular and you didn’t know what other places were like, or because the story wasn’t finished and maybe if the weird bigotry pays off as a storyline then there’s a reason for it... It’s okay if you made a different, better story in your head. That’s honestly great. I wish you would follow through and make more different, better stories for people to read.

The author’s movement to advocacy against what should be basic human rights and dignities afforded to all people makes it a linchpin of a political statement, and her power makes it that what should be harmless nostalgia causes real harm. It is because of the power and the hatred that JKR holds and enforces that the lessons of inner worth are tainted by worth at the expense of others. And honestly I think that, like Lovecraft, a lot of the stories people have made inspired by her work greatly surpass the work itself. So honestly, don’t give her credit for a strength you built. You built social connection, you built skills, you learned how to create characters and you fleshed out the puppets she put out before you. The characters and stories you made that made Harry Potter what it was are more important than the actual mockery of a story we received. You breathed life into it with what you made. Take that, and know that you’re the hero not her, and you don’t owe her any loyalty or reverence for giving you a bit of inspiration to do all of the things you did yourself. The end of Harry Potter just proved that we all had better ideas than the creator, and I hope a lot of you realize you don’t owe her anything for that. You’re the better creator.

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years ago

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𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙮 𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙡 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐𝘐) || sub!bucky barnes x dominatrix!reader

(𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐)

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 || your newest client asks you to give him a real challenge, and you’re happy to oblige.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 || 6.3k

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 || smut but no actual sex (lots of handjob stuff though and some brief oral m receiving), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, more cnc (because of the overstimulation), bondage, edging, impact play (riding crop), brief cock torture (she just hits him with the crop a couple times), implied “kink as trauma response” (this is gonna be a theme throughout the whole fic), forced to break a rule/doomed to fail/impossible challenge (idk how to warn for this but yeah), forced voyeurism?, thigh riding (reader rides bucky’s thigh), some degradation/dumbification, brief/implied dacryphilia, a bit of angst/feelings

new parts posted on thursdays! join the taglist here

“Can’t,” he sighed, “can’t come again.”

He looked so painfully adorable when he begged like that, his brow glistening with sweat as he jerked under your touch. “Aw, poor baby,” you pouted, twisting your hand when it stroked over the head of his cock, “yes you can. I know you can. Just gimme one more.”

“F-fuck,” he whimpered, “Mistress, please— just stop, please, I can’t… can’t take any more…”

“I know you can, sweetheart— I know you can be my good boy and keep coming for me. Tell me your color.”

“Yellow,” he whispered.

“Think you’re almost done?” you pressed, smiling when he nodded breathlessly. “Yeah, there’s my good boy— gonna come again for your Mistress?”

“Yes,” he breathed, baring his teeth as his hips bucked wildly to try to avoid further sensation, “y-yes, one more, just one more, I’m gonna— fuck, gonna come, just don’t stop… fuck, it hurts.”

“I know, but you’re being so good for me,” you purred. “You like it when I milk your pretty cock, don’t you? Even though it hurts?”

He winced but nodded. “C-coming, Mistress, fuck, I’m coming…!”

Since it was his fifth of the evening, he could only give you one thick drop of come that gathered at his slit before running down over your hand which finally slowed to a stop.

You both sighed with relief as you pulled your hand away and leaned back, admiring how beautiful he looked as he caught his breath, covered in come and sweat.

"Good job," you praised with a chuckle, "I hope I didn't go too hard on you."

"N-no, that was… that was really good," he sighed, slumping back onto the bed. "Can I use your shower before I go?"

"Yeah, totally," you nodded.

After a long pause, you gave him a confused look.

"I thought you were gonna shower?" you reminded him.

"Oh… I guess I have to get up for that," he sighed, making you laugh.

"Rest a bit longer. You've had a… challenging afternoon."

He nodded a little and you got up from the bed to go wash your hands and freshen up a little, smiling at your own appearance in the mirror— sometimes you forgot how you looked when you did this, but there was an undeniable aura of power around you… especially after a session like that.

This was only your third week with James, and already the dynamic felt so natural between you— and yet, so fresh compared to your other clients. Normally it took longer for a newbie to get comfortable with you, yet most of them had had multiple doms before and here was James, totally inexperienced and taking it all like a champ. There was an air of innocence about him, you figured, in contrast to this undeniable strength and intensity that you caught glimpses of from time to time.

Sometimes, it felt like he was chasing an innocence he lost a long time ago. Whatever it was that drew him to this, you were happy to help him along the way.

It was probably a little dangerous to enjoy sessions with a client so much; even though you often pretended that everything was about your pleasure and not theirs, obviously since they were the paying customer it was the complete opposite in reality. But there was an equity to the dynamic with you and Bucky, he served you with a real dedication rather than for his own gain. And you, meanwhile, had rediscovered the fun in this career that had originally drawn you to it in the first place. It was less like a science now, more like an art— you let yourself go with your instincts and do whatever felt right in the moment, and both of you benefitted for it.

“Come on, get up and clean yourself off,” you encouraged— gently, of course— as you left the bathroom and returned to find James laying sprawled out on the bed.

“I know you said falling asleep here was a one-time courtesy,” he remembered with a smile, “but I could use it now a lot more than I needed it then.”

Honestly, you didn’t see him smile that often. It was pleasant; you hoped to see it again. He did get up, though, and take the washcloth you handed him to wipe off the come that had gotten all over him. “What are you thinking for next week?” you asked as you leaned against the wall. “Any special requests?”

“We can discuss all that over the phone,” he decided. You still didn’t understand fully why he didn’t like to discuss future scenes in person; it was like he wanted the in-person interactions to be as ‘in character’ (if you will) as possible.

“Alright, just keep me updated,” you requested with a shrug.

You got changed while he took his shower, and when he emerged to the living room he seemed surprised to see you sitting on your own couch. After a moment, you realized it was the fact that you were in normal clothes that threw him off. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in jeans before… or pants of any kind.”

You looked down at your outfit with a smile, glad it was at least still professional and not sweats and a t-shirt or something. “Yeah, I guess you haven’t. First time for everything, right?”

“Yeah, had a lot of first times with you,” he chuckled. “Most significantly less mundane than this.”

A brief silence filled the room but it wasn’t exactly awkward, at least not for you.

“Well, I’ll see you next week,” he decided as he grabbed his jacket from your chair and slipped it on. You’d been spending most of this session trying to forget how good he looked in the leather motorcycle cut, so that was out the window now as you tried to keep from visibly biting your lip while he walked towards the door.

Damn, he was fine. But there were more pressing matters at hand. Like preparing yourself and your apartment for your next appointment. This guy wanted to get slapped around until he cried… shouldn't be too difficult, but your arms would probably be sore tomorrow.

Opposite of last week, I really want you to edge me tonight, as long as possible.

Don't go easy on me, make me hold it in. I need a challenge this week.

-J

It was odd how emails from James made your week.

He seemed to prefer to communicate his desire with you this way; maybe it was easier for him, and you couldn’t really blame him for that. The nice part was that you didn’t have to temper your reactions, if you had any, since you were always alone when you got his messages. You might be old hat at it now, but you could remember a time that you had to hide a grimace when a client told you to your face what he wanted. Not that you would shame them for it or anything (unless, you know, they paid you to), but you didn’t enjoy everything you did with these men.

Did you enjoy everything you did with James? Yes, but you were pretending not to— for your own sake.

You dressed a bit differently for today’s session, more conservatively… not that it was especially conservative by any other person’s standards. But it left your legs and chest covered, somewhat in the spirit of ‘mean corporate businesswoman’ aesthetically. For some reason you felt like using a riding crop required wearing pants.

James certainly didn’t seem to mind, with the way he nervously cleared his throat after you opened the door.

“Good to see you again,” you greeted formally, “please, come in.”

He stepped past you, still looking at you and not at what was in front of him, meaning he ended up slamming himself gut-first into your kitchen island.

“Oh! Are you alright?” you smiled when you noticed.

“Yeah, I’m good,” he nodded, rubbing his stomach for a second but recovering quickly. “I told you I can take a lot of pain,” he joked.

“Well, we’re going to put that to the test today,” you promised cryptically. “You must’ve seen the crop on the table.”

He nodded again. “Yeah....”

“Are you looking forward to it?”

“Yes,” he answered, a bit too quickly.

“Then let’s get you tied up, James.”

Straddling his lap, you realized the rope was a bit too tight when you saw it digging into his skin; maybe he wouldn’t mind that, but you did, so you pushed the rope back through itself to loosen it slightly.

“How long did it take you to learn all these knots?” he asked casually, watching your fingers nimbly work the ropes around his wrists.

“Not too long,” you shrugged, “I’ve only been doing this a few years… but I knew them before that.”

“Boating school? Boy Scouts?” he suggested jokingly.

“Just a hobby,” you decided, dodging the covert question about your past. “Were you a Boy Scout?”

“Do I look like a Boy Scout?” he countered with a scoff.

“Not anymore,” you shrugged, “but I bet you did once. You’re sorta innocent, you know.”

He swallowed dryly, and you raised an eyebrow as you glanced from the knot you were tightening to his face, which looked a bit flustered. “R-really?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, leaning back on your heels to look at him straight-on. “Are you surprised to hear that?”

He nodded quickly, and you laughed.

“Aw, you thought you were so kinky, huh? So dirty,” you purred, running your hand up his leg until he tugged slightly on the newly-tied ropes— a subtle way to get him to test them for you. “But you’re really not. You’re just my sweet, innocent boy.”

He whined— really, properly whined— and you dug your nails into his skin until he hissed instead.

“I don’t think you believe me,” you noticed, leaning back to reach for the crop behind you. “You think you’re so filthy and perverted, right? Are you a pervert, James?”

“Yes,” he breathed, shivering as you let the crop slide gently over his skin— his abs, his hips, his legs which were already quivering so adorably. “Yes, Mistress.”

“And how’s that?”

“I think about… getting hurt,” he admitted weakly, “when I touch myself. And I touch myself all the fucking time.”

“Yeah? How many times a day do you stroke that pretty cock, James?”

“Twice every morning,” he blurted out, “after that it depends.”

You didn’t let yourself show your surprise at that number. “Depends on what?”

When he hesitated, you hit him sharply on the thigh and he winced. “Depends on what I… what I end up thinking about. Sometimes… sometimes something reminds me, and I have to get off.”

Something told you not to press on what it was that he needed to be reminded of, and why it made him want to jerk off so bad. Something told you he wasn’t ready to tell that story yet. “Did you touch yourself today already?” you asked instead.

“No, no ma’am,” he shook his head, voice wavering as you brushed the crop over his chest, “it’s… it’s different with you.”

“Yeah, I bet it is,” you smirked, hitting him on the stomach quickly. “I bet you’re finally satisfied, right? Nothing’s ever worked for you before.”

“Yes,” he moaned, crying out slightly when you hit him on the arm (flesh— you were too afraid what sound the metal one would make) much harder than before. “The nights I see you, I… I can sleep.”

“You sleep better?”

“No, I just… sleep.”

You tried not to react to that, moving to a new question instead. “Do you want me to hit you again? Or do you want me to stroke your cock for you?”

An obvious choice to some, surely, but he seemed to really struggle with it.

“Which one do you think you deserve?” you asked instead.

“Hit me more,” he decided.

Instantly, you struck him once on the face and again on the shoulder, then moved down to his legs for three in a row in spite of the way his body jerked away instinctively.

“Fuck,” he sobbed, “don’t stop— I need more…”

You focused on his legs, on the inside of his thigh where he seemed the most sensitive. His twisted joy turned to true fear, though, when you brushed the end of the crop over his balls. “Do you want me to hit you here?” you challenged.

“I… I don’t know,” he stammered.

“Let’s make a deal, James,” you offered, “wherever I hit you, I’m gonna kiss it to make it better.”

“Then hit me wherever you want,” he nodded, almost smiling at you. He cried through his teeth when you whipped his shaft with the crop— not especially hard, in fact quite delicately, though the second was harder. And the third, though not much more aggressive, was right on the sensitive tip; his eyes shot open and his hips jerked away.

“So good, such a good boy,” you whispered proudly, putting the crop aside to lean in and kiss his cheek where you’d hit him before, his shoulder, his arm.

You worked your way down carefully as he breathed heavily beneath you, whimpering slightly when you kissed his thighs and notably ignored his flexing, leaking cock. “Please,” he whimpered.

“Shh, be patient,” you soothed, “be my good boy.”

“Your good boy,” he repeated, trying to restrain himself but already bucking up into the air again, “fuck, wanna be your good boy, Mistress.”

“Are you already close, pet, just from getting hurt?” you asked in a faux pout. “You’re not gonna come if I give your pretty cock some kisses, right?”

“I— I won’t come,” he promised. “Not until I get permission.”

“Baby, it’s gonna be a long fuckin’ time before you get permission,” you promised with a toothy grin. “Look down at me, honey, I want you to see this.”

He hesitated for a second but obeyed, looking down at you with an expression that was full of awe as you gripped his cock and gave gentle, teasing kisses up his shaft. It bobbed in your hands with each one, and he let out the most beautiful sigh when you kissed the tip carefully.

A wide lick made him jerk beneath you. “F-Fuck,” he stammered.

“You said you wouldn’t come,” you reminded him. “Can I keep going? Are you gonna be a good boy?”

“Don’t stop, please,” he breathed, “I’ll be good.”

Taking the head between your lips, you suckled gently as he shivered and moaned. You weren’t sure you’d ever been with anybody— on or off the clock— who was so sensitive. And you loved it, honestly; who could resist those precious noises he made?

As much as part of you wanted to go nuts and really push him to the edge, you tried to be gentle and careful so as not to make it impossible for him to hold back. But even then, when you gently grasped his balls in one of your hands and squeezed them, he apparently couldn’t take anymore.

"S-stop," he hissed, and you pulled back, sitting up.

"You were close?" you asked, and he nodded a little. "Oh, what a good boy."

He whimpered briefly. "Yes, your good boy, Mistress…"

Your fingers trailed delicately up the underside of his cock, making him shiver violently. "I know you want to come, but you want to be good even more. You're such a sweet little pet."

It seemed like the praises did more to keep him on the edge than the touches, so you kept both going; wrapping your fingers around the ridge of his head, you gave the most gentle and subtle strokes, and leaned in to whisper against his ear.

“Is this why you wanted me to edge you today, James? So you could show me how good you can be?”

“I-I don’t know,” he blurted out, rocking his hips as best he could while restrained, “I just wanted to… I just wanted you to make me wait.”

“Well, you don’t need to worry about that,” you laughed slightly, “I can make you wait all day. Is that what you want?”

“No, that’s— not that long, I can’t wait that long,” he shuddered.

“Mm, that sounds like your problem, not mine,” you smirked. “Not sure why I asked what you want, honestly… cause I don’t fucking care.”

His choked-out whine was too perfect to ignore.

“Oh, what a pathetic little moan that was, poor baby,” you cooed mockingly, “are you regretting it now? You’re probably wondering what you got yourself into, ‘cause you’re worried Mistress is never gonna let you come.”

“No, I don’t regret it,” he denied weakly, “whatever you want— do whatever you want to me, just… give me what I deserve, please.”

You stopped touching him completely and he straight-up sobbed. “You don’t deserve anything from me, James. You don’t deserve me at all.”

He told you before that he liked when you rapidly cycled between soft and mean. Kept him on his toes, apparently. Honestly, you felt a little guilty talking to him that way sometimes, but his cock leaking enough pre-cum to soak the bedsheets beneath him was a sign you were doing something right. “I know!” he cried. “I know, fuck, I’m sorry, but I need you. I fucking need you, Mistress, please— you know I’ll do anything.”

“I’m feeling generous today,” you shrugged, “so I won’t ask you for much. Just beg me a little more.”

“Please, pleasepleaseplease,” he rushed, “touch me. Anywhere, whatever you want, I just need to feel you. I know I… fuck, I know I don’t deserve it, but let me try to— to earn it. Please.”

You knew if he had it his way, he wouldn’t do much talking at all. But you couldn’t just let him have it his way, now could you? It was better to make him just the right amount of nervous, just the slightest hair uncomfortable, by making him talk to you. And, of course, you liked the way his deep and rough voice got all whiny and needy like this.

One finger under his chin guided him to look up at you, those pretty blue eyes watery and sparkling and wide with misplaced innocence.

“Tell me who you belong to, James,” you instructed darkly.

“You, Mistress,” he whispered, “I’m yours, I— oh fuck…”

Unshockingly, he was reduced to only moans again when you started stroking his cock, the slick precum making every movement smoother. “All mine, huh? My little toy?” you confirmed, but he could only nod and swallow thickly.

You sped up quickly, getting faster and faster until you were really, properly jerking him off and he was biting hard on his lip. Just when he seemed to really fall into it, get almost comfortable, you had to stop.

"Oh, fuck—" he gasped, bucking his hips up to try to chase your hand when you pulled away, but it was no use with him tied up. You watched his cock bob in the air and smiled.

“Did you think it was going to be that easy?” you smirked.

Shaking his head, you tilted yours to look at him, reaching up to trace your fingers over his chest.

“Don’t lie, baby, you thought I was gonna let you come, didn’t you? You’re so sweet, James, and so, so stupid.”

He gasped, and for a second you thought you might’ve gone too far, but it shifted to a moan quickly and you realized he was having the time of his life.

“Just my dumb, brainless little toy,” you continued with a snarl, watching him tug at the ropes as his eyes fluttered shut. “It’s okay, James, it’s okay… you don’t need to think, I don’t want your mind. It’s useless. I want this pretty cock, that’s all I want from you.”

“It’s all yours, Mistress,” he promised, cheeks burning bright red and eyes forced shut. “All of it, I swear.”

“I know,” you cooed, holding his face gently to soothe him a bit. But then your other hand wrapped around his cock and he was anything but soothed. “Shh, shh, don’t make any sounds, you’re just a toy and toys need to stay quiet.”

You missed his noises, actually, but he looked so cute biting his lip and struggling to suppress them. His cock was so swollen in your hand that you honestly wondered if it was somehow getting bigger. Was that even possible? Your mouth was watering regardless.

“I’m gonna give you a little break,” you promised gently, “but I’ll be honest, pretty boy… I don’t think you’re gonna like it one bit.”

The look he gave you beautifully balanced fear with anticipation, and you stopped stroking him to reach over towards the bedside drawer and pull out a vibrator.

“Your Mistress is feeling a little.... self-indulgent today,” you winked. “And since I, unlike you, don’t need to hold myself back from coming, I think I might as well get myself off if I want to.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed dryly, watching you closely as you stood up off the bed and started to carefully undress yourself. It was a lot more fun to get naked when you were wearing something that didn’t actually show much skin— the button-up seemed to really get him going, his tongue mindlessly darting out to lick his lips as you opened one button at a time.

Once it was off your shoulders and on the floor, and he could see the almost-transparent bra you had on, you moved to opening your trousers as well. Just to be mean, you faced the other way as you pushed them down over your ass; you heard his breath catch and you smirked to yourself, spinning to face him again in just the matching, dark red bra and panty set.

“What do you think, do you like this better than the black ones?” you asked coyly.

“I like you naked better than both,” he answered, and you grinned.

“I’m gonna let that backtalk slide just once because it’s not worth my time to go over there and slap you for it,” you decided. “But don’t test me, James.”

“Yes, Mistress,” he answered dutifully, sounding a bit out of breath as he watched you climb back onto the bed, positioning yourself carefully.

You faced him straight-on and laid your legs over his, meaning your lace-covered pussy was in full view and only inches from his leaking cock— the damn thing looked sore by now, purple at the tip and just as desperate for attention as the rest of him.

When you pulled the fabric aside to show him your cunt, he hissed and looked away.

“Look at me, James, keep your eyes open,” you demanded, seeing how totally wrecked he looked when he turned his head back to you and stared down at your body with half-lidded eyes. “Look at how fucking soaked my pussy is. You remember how it feels to be inside it, don’t you?”

He swallowed, sighed, and finally (just barely) nodded.

“You remember how hot and wet and tight it is, don’t you?”

“Y-yes,” he choked.

“Well, that memory’s all you’ve got to work with, sweet boy, because I don’t think I’m ever gonna let you fuck this pussy again.”

He really, properly sobbed, tears streaming down his cheeks, and those arms flexed against the ropes defiantly. “N-no, please—”

“I’m gonna make myself come with this,” you promised, interrupting him as you grabbed the vibe, “and I want you to remember how it feels when I come around you, okay?

Turning it on, you wasted no time pressing it to your clit, moving the end of the toy in slow circles and keeping a close eye on him as he watched you. Your intention had always been to give him a show, but the embarrassing thing was how little of it was an act. Ironically, even though you’d been edging him this whole time, having to touch him that way without any pleasure for yourself was almost as torturous. You’d soaked through your panties by the time you had him tied up, to be totally honest. So, giving into it and letting yourself feel good was a breeze.

“Think about when I was riding you, James,” you instructed, your own voice clearly affected by your pleasure now. “Think about how good it would feel if I let you come inside me.”

“Oh, god,” he cried, leaning his head back.

“Think about my pussy milking every fucking drop of come out of you. You know I wouldn’t let you stop until I was completely full of your come, I bet you’d like that. I bet you’d like to eat your come out of me, you sick little pervert.”

“Fuck!” he yelped, tugging at the ropes harder now— for a second you thought he might really break them and jump you. And for a second, you knew you’d let him. It made your walls clench as you imagined facing the consequences of driving a man to the brink of insanity until he couldn’t help but fuck you like an animal. It was a good thing he didn’t see you bite your lip as you imagined that.

“You know what I’m thinking about?” you taunted.

“God, don’t tell me,” he sighed through his teeth, but obviously you ignored him.

“I’m thinking about what a good boy you are for me,” you cooed, your hips starting to rock up against where you held the end of the vibrator; you pressed it down harder onto your clit and moaned instantly. “Yeah, I’m thinking about how pretty you look when you’re all desperate and needy and fucking pathetic—”

“Oh—” he choked.

“My dumb litlte whore, that’s all you are, James,” you groaned. “I know you wish you could touch me, it’s all you can think about, right? That pretty head of yours would be completely empty if it weren’t for thoughts of me and how badly you want me. Right?”

“Yes,” he whispered huskily.

A shiver ran up your spine when the vibrator bumped into a more sensitive part of you, and you did it again and again until you thought you might lose it a bit faster than you meant to. “This toy feels really good,” you informed him in a purr, gasping when you slipped the vibrating body of it into your pussy, “but it doesn’t feel as good inside me as you do.”

His eyes fell shut but he still winced a bit every time you made a sound; he couldn’t run from this, no matter how hard he tried.

“Oh James,” you moaned loudly, fucking yourself with the vibe for a moment before you pulled it back out to focus even harder on your clit, “I’m gonna come. I’m so, so close… I can feel it getting stronger, I think I might make a mess on these sheets. And the only way I’m ever gonna let you come is if you watch me do it. So open your fucking eyes.”

He blinked quickly as he opened them, gaze scanning your whole body before settling on your cunt; you were sure he could see it pulsing as you got closer and closer, you knew he was imagining how it would feel. You only spared a brief glimpse at his cock, bobbing between his legs, and wished you could just slip it in you now and come while it stretched you out.

But that wasn’t what he was here for, sadly, and you were sure you were the only being truly denied of your desires, despite how it probably seemed from the outside.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, numbness starting to tingle in your legs as your orgasm built up quicker than even you expected. “I’m coming— James, I’m coming, oh, fuck… right there— yes!”

A gush of heat warmed your cunt at the same time that shocks ran up your spine and down your limbs; you could feel your legs shaking, and you knew he could, too.

It got so intense for a second that you had to pull the vibrator away, though you didn’t stop coming until a few moments later, eyes falling shut without you meaning for them to.

You actually laughed a bit, breathlessly, as you turned the vibe off and set it aside, although you weren’t sure exactly what was supposed to be funny about this per se. When you opened your eyes, you saw James looking down and looking positively defeated. But he looked tense, too, and you sat up on your wobbly legs to get closer to his face.

“Relax, James,” you told him firmly as you examined him.

“I— I can’t,” he whispered.

“Why not?”

“I’ll come.”

Nothing could fight your wide grin anymore, not when you heard that. “Oh, baby… are you about to come without even being touched? Is that how much you liked watching Mistress come?”

He nodded, ever so slightly, and you laughed. Not quite a mocking laugh, moreso impressed. Prideful, even. You leaned in to give a wet kiss to his neck, licking over his pulse as he shivered violently.

“That’s my good boy,” you whispered against his skin. He whined and you cooed soothingly right away, “oh I know, I know. It’s so unfair, isn’t it? Mistress gets to come and you don’t…”

“Please,” he stammered, “I’m so close, let me come, please.”

“But I don’t wanna see you come, baby— I wanna see you cry.”

You started to slide your hand down his chest and he jumped up to attention as he tried to squirm away. “No, please, don’t— don’t touch my cock, not if I can’t come.”

“You can hold it in, can’t you?” you pouted.

“No, I can’t, I can’t,” he sobbed, watching fearfully as your hand moved down to his stomach and over his hips.

“But I thought you were my good boy,” you frowned, suddenly wrapping your hand tight around his cock as he choked on a gasp.

“Mistress!” he sobbed. “Please, don’t— don’t move your hand, I’ll come.”

"Never fucking tell me what to do," you instructed firmly, just barely stroking as he cried weakly. "I'm gonna touch you however I want and you're not gonna come because you're my good boy, right?"

"No, Mistress, I can't stop it, I'm gonna come— stop, please…"

"You'd better not fucking come," you hissed through your teeth, speeding up your movements and watching his eyes shoot wide open, "you'd better hold it in until I'm done with you."

"I'm trying— please slow down, can't take it—"

You shook your head, tutting disapprovingly. "No, baby, I tell you what you can take."

"Oh— oh god, Mistress, please, please stop, please, I c-can't— fuck!"

You pulled your hand away the second his cock started to flex but it was too late: come was shooting from his swollen tip and painting his chest and stomach. You didn't even wait until he was done to backhand him across the face.

"I'm sorry!" he yelled. "I'm so sorry, I couldn't help it…"

You softened slightly when you heard his broken voice, saw the desperation and fear on his face— it was real, more real than the fake ‘no’s and the encouraging pleas for mercy. "Baby, it's okay, you tried so hard," you soothed instantly.

Hope filled his eyes just as much as tears as he looked up at you. "Am I still your good boy?"

"Always," you smiled, caressing his face where it was already turning red from your slap.

You reached down and caressed his cock with the back of your fingers, watching it flex weakly.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, alright?”

His lip twitched, almost like a wince. “Do we… do we have to stop?”

You quickly glanced at the clock. “Um, no,” you mumbled, “we still have time. Just tell me what you want.”

“I wanna watch you come again…” he admitted softly. “Is… is that okay?”

Although you weren’t sure what you’d been expecting, you were still surprised. “Yeah, sure.”

“But… but closer this time,” he added, “not so far away.”

You were literally laying on top of him, how did that count as far away?

“I wanna see your face,” he clarified.

“Okay,” you nodded, deciding to indulge him. It was sort of like aftercare, except that this wasn’t exactly the ‘after’ part yet.

On your knees beside where he was leaning back against the headboard, you slipped your hand down into the lace panties again, finding your clit still swollen but not too sensitive. A little gasp fell from your lips when you touched it, rubbing it carefully with two fingers while he looked up at your face.

You felt slightly exposed when he watched you this close, and you didn’t know where to look to avoid direct eye contact. Looking at his lips was just a little too tempting, so that wouldn’t work.

“My hands are a little tired,” you explained, “they might cramp up. Maybe I could use your thigh…”

“O-okay,” he nodded, and you removed your fingers from your panties to sit down on the thick muscle of his leg. You felt him tense up under you slightly, and you carefully began to rock your hips until your clit rubbed just right against the inside of your underwear. Surely he could feel how wet you were— actually, you both could hear it, almost a wet clicking-like noise as the soaked lace slid against your skin.

The dynamic shifted slightly, not that you minded it, as he watched you ride him carefully. Just as he couldn’t hide much from you when he was naked and tied up and baring his soul to you in the kinkiest way possible, you couldn’t hide your pleasure from him when he was looking at your face so up-close. You let your hands carefully roam his body, narrowly avoiding the trails of cooling come he’d left on his stomach and chest, until you found his strong shoulders and held onto them for balance.

“Fuck,” you mumbled to yourself, biting your lip as your sore clit throbbed against his hard, muscular thigh.

“Will you… could you kiss me?” he requested quietly, and your heart broke a little bit. You shook your head, and he nodded in understanding.

“I’ll kiss you here,” you offered instead, whispering against his skin before you pressed your lips to his forehead, then his cheek, then his jaw. “Is that better, James?”

“It helps,” he agreed in a sigh.

“I’m close,” you warned quietly, pressing your cheek to his and weaving one hand into his hair. “I’m gonna come again, on your thigh.”

“Let me touch you,” he begged, “just a little, please…”

You nodded, about to reach forward to untie one of his hands, but he snapped the ropes and you had totally forgotten he could do that. He quickly ran his touch all over your body, calloused hands and bound wrists in stark contrast to your soft skin. The metal one was a little cold but it didn’t bother you; the other was almost too hot, and it was like being warmed and cooled all at once.

He ran his fingers down your spine, he gripped one of your shoulders, he rubbed your legs: he did everything he must have been wishing he could do this whole time, even gasping as he ran one hand up your chest and over a cup of your bra. Just as you sensed that he was about to ask if he could touch you there, you nodded and felt his metal hand tug down the red lace and grab your breast— thankfully not very hard, though he did give your nipple a quick pinch which made you gasp.

Burying his face in the crook of your neck, he finally settled his hands on holding your hips, just tight enough to slightly guide your movements as you rocked faster and more desperately. “Please come,” he begged weakly, “Mistress, please… use me.”

It sort of hit you all at once then, like a punch to the gut. Except, you know, a lot more fun than getting punched in the gut.

“James,” you gasped, legs quivering where they straddled his as a new patch of slick soaked the lace (and presumably his thigh as well). He held you tight, kept you moving through it while your fingers tangled in his hair and your mouth fell slack for another, louder moan.

The way his lips moved over your skin, laving your collarbones and pulse point and the innermost corner of your jaw, was positively worshipful; reverent. “Mistress,” he whispered, almost sounding like praise but tinted with awe. Your movements slowed down to a stop and the two of you breathed a sigh together, unintentionally. “Thank you,” he mumbled.

“What for?” you asked, blinking quickly and looking down at him, coming back to reality (though you weren’t quite sure where else it was that you had just been).

“I dunno, everything,” he decided.

“Don’t thank me,” you smiled. “Keep paying me, though.”

He laughed a little, glancing away. “Yeah, and I’ll pay you back for these ropes… sorry."

"No, hey, don't be sorry," you dismissed, getting up off of his leg and standing up to go grab a towel for him. "I'm just sorry we still haven't found anything strong enough to hold you."

"It's fine, they're strong enough to make me stop myself when I want to do something I shouldn't, that's all that really matters."

You nodded to yourself as you dampened the towel and came back to wipe him off.

"I can do that for myself," he reminded you, sounding a bit embarrassed, but you thought it was sweet.

“You just focus on getting those ropes off of yourself,” you decided with a little smile.

#sub!bucky barnes x domme!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut

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noteguk · 4 years ago

Text

bad behavior | jjk | m

This is in the same universe as “bad influence.” It can, however, be read as a stand-alone.

— summary; in which staying late to volunteer at a self-help meeting was the best decision you made in a while.

— contents and warnings; smut, the endless adventures of badboy!jk x goodgirl!reader, public sex (in a church…), dirty talk, fingering, degradation (name calling) but also praise, unprotected sex, clothed sex, creampie, cum play, there is a window and also reflections, rough sex, cockwarming, jk being a lil shit because that’s his main personality trait, jk smokes (only mentioned), enemies to fuckbuddies: dawn of the first day

— words; 8.2k

— author’s note; for the anon that asked how their first time was like ;) join me as we explore the lore of this godforsaken couple

It was your mother’s idea for you to find a new place to volunteer. According to her, it had been a long time since you experienced “the invigorating energy of community work” — last time was when you were trying to level up your college application — and it could really “soothe your anxious soul” during the trying times of college finals. Apparently one tutoring program and two research projects weren’t enough to distract you, but you could see where she was coming from.

In the end, you accepted. The old places you used to volunteer in had either shut off their programs or were just too far away from college for you to consider. At first, you decided to follow your mother’s suggestion and tried to work with children — “small miracles”, as she called them — in a local daycare. Which ended up being a terrible idea.

You liked giving back to the community, you really did, but it wasn’t long until you realized that working with infants hasn’t been your wisest decision, and that children weren’t miracles at all. You got tired of going home covered in paint and with pieces of playdough entangled in your hair, and that was when you weren’t unlucky enough to get hit with other, less clean fluids.

So you eventually gave up — both on the daycare and on the faint idea of one day going into pediatrics — and searched for a new place. After having to yell your way through retirement homes, and getting fed up with washing people’s sidewalks, you finally settled in a program that was flexible and light enough for your intense college hours: preparing (and then later cleaning up) a room that was reserved in a local church for weekly meetings.

The entire ordeal took about two to three hours off your day, and more than half of it was spent as free time: waiting for the meeting to end, cramming piles of information in a small room next door. You didn’t really know what the meetings were about since they changed practically every month — they were, at first, a support group for teenage mothers, then it became an AA meeting, then a group for drug users trying to quit. Lately, you were starting to think that the church just gave away the room for whoever had the money to rent it, so it wasn’t a surprise when it was reserved for a motivational speaker to give confidence lessons.

You had researched the guy, some old dude with an unpronounceable name and a sketchy background, and found exactly the type of person you had expected. Yes, you were in the house of Christ, but you were still being heavily judgmental of the fact that he was giving those talks when he had no qualifications whatsoever, and was probably making bank off all the self-help books he regurgitated at least twice a year to prey on vulnerable people. You did share your worries with the administrative office of the church, but they ultimately fell on deaf ears, and you gave up on the idea of kicking his ass out of the holy grounds anytime soon.

It was after one of those pseudo-motivational talks that you walked into the empty room, ready to clean everything up before rushing back to your place, where your roommate had promised to greet you with some wonderful takeout. The chairs were still placed in a circle on the center of the room, where they had been since forever, and you made sure to align them perfectly before you moved on to the litter that had been thrown around the place.

One good thing about those self-help meetings was that they were a lot cleaner than a lot of other attendees, so the “picking up the trash until your back started to hurt” part passed by surprisingly fast. You had just moved on to the snack table, analyzing what you could still save, when your soul almost left your body.

“Hey, you,” you heard a known voice behind you. “What are you doing in here?”

You swiftly turned around, heart thumping violently against your ribcage. You didn’t know how you hadn’t let out the biggest, most blood-curdling scream ever, but that was just the first of many miracles of the night. “Jesus Christ,” you wheezed out, taking one hand to your chest. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people like this.” You swallowed dry, some part of your brain recalling that he had asked you a question. “And I’m volunteering here.”

“I didn’t sneak up on you, you’re just jumpy.” Jungkook scoffed, leaning against the doorframe with that stupid playful smirk curling up on his lips. You didn’t know they allowed demons inside the church. “And of course you are.” He rolled his eyes.

Maybe a few months back, his mocking tone would’ve stung a bit more. However, you had been tutoring Jungkook for about three months then, suffering through endless sessions of his whining and complaining, and you’ve grown used to his passive-aggressive antics already. You learned that Jungkook was a shark seeking for blood, waiting for any crack that would allow him to jump into a perverse little joke — about how you behaved, your priorities, or even the color of your highlighter. You, of course, always stood your ground and threw his comments right back at him — which was his initial plan, as you’ve come to realize. Jungkook enjoyed playfully arguing with you, and you thought that it was another level of strangeness and masochism you simply didn’t have time to dissect.

Still, Jungkook (shockingly) wasn’t the terrible person you once thought he was. Every once in a while — when he was trying to talk you out of teaching him — the conversations you two would have were actually mostly pleasant, and he wasn’t awful to hang around when he dropped the whole badass persona to act like a real human being. You would even dare to say that Jungkook could be actually funny at times, and not in the bitter, sarcastic way he usually was. Sometimes, you dared to think, he could actually be reasonably nice. And also kind of cute. Even hot.

But you would never actually admit any of that out loud. Or even to yourself, really.

“And you?” You asked, turning back around to face the table full of half-eaten food. That looked like a battlefield, and you could already tell that there were only a few survivors left standing. “What are you doing here? Repenting?”

Jungkook chuckled dryly. “You wish. My parents want me to quit smoking,” he said. You could not see him, but you could hear him walking closer to you as you fumbled with the large Tupperware. “We settled on this crap instead of a forced intervention.”

You scoffed. Most of the food before you was unsalvageable — some of the cupcakes had been bitten once and then placed back, and you wondered how someone like that could function in society. “You don’t seem very motivated to quit,” you mumbled.

Jungkook clicked his tongue. “I don’t really care.”

His voice was much closer to you, and you felt the air leaving your lungs for a pitiful instant. You convinced yourself you had only gotten scared again. “You should care about the growing possibility of lung cancer.”

He shrugged. “Maybe. But it’s not really on the top of my list of priorities at the moment.”

“And what is?” You asked.

“Amongst other things…” he trailed off and, suddenly, he was standing besides you, pointing at the chaotic pile of sweets. “I actually came back to grab another one of those cupcakes. The chocolate ones are great.”

You didn’t know why, but his comment broke the odd tension that you didn’t even know that was there, clicking you back into your previous mentality — the one that you just wanted to finish cleaning up so you could leave soon. “All yours,” you told him, “grab as many as you want.”

Jungkook hummed in satisfaction, reaching out to grab one special brown cupcake — an untouched one, thankfully. “I love when you talk dirty.” He almost moaned before shoving the cupcake inside his mouth, taking a huge bite off it. Dramatically, Jungkook rolled his eyes and sighed in delight. “These are fucking great.”

You chuckled, glancing at his direction. Jungkook was dressed in all black, like he usually was, and you were starting to recognize a newfound admiration towards his constant use of leather jackets. What? He looked good. “I’m glad the self-help sessions are paying off,” you commented, swiftly placing the cupcakes inside the transparent container.

Jungkook was paying attention to your actions now, like he noticed you were there working for the first time. “What are you doing with the rest?”

“The church will probably donate it, give it to the homeless or something.” You shrugged. “Or they’ll eat it, I don’t know. I just clean up the place and leave.”

Jungkook laughed at that, taking another monstrous bite from his cupcake and throwing himself on one of the nearby chairs. Your eye twitched a little at the thought that he had ruined your perfect circle, but you’d have to fix that on your way out. “Sounds absurdly boring,” he sang. “And they’re not even paying you.”

You sighed. “After all the places I’ve volunteered in, boring is a blessing,” you told him. You had just placed five hot dogs in the container, and you were starting to wonder if it would be a good idea to feed people in need with those suspicious sausages. “But, yeah, you probably don’t care about any of that.”

“You don’t know what I care about,” Jungkook said matter-of-factly. You didn’t know if he was trying to tease you, but his voice came out so soft and monotone that you couldn’t really be mad about it. It was true, after all: you didn’t actually know what he cared about. Sometimes you thought that he could read you better than you could read him. “Want me to stay here with you? This place is probably empty already.”

You could not hold back your laugh at that, turning around so you could look at him. “Are you offering to be my bodyguard? In a church?”

Jungkook pouted. There was a thin line of chocolate on the side of his lips, which he quickly licked clean. “I’m trying to be nice.”

You giggled, turning back towards the disgusting food. The rest was mostly trash, but you were happy enough with the amount you had managed to find in a good state. “That’s new.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked. “I’m always nice.”

“Always is a strong word.” You smiled, closing the lid of the Tupperware. You had managed to fill three small containers with the leftovers and, honestly, that was a big victory. “But you can stay or you can leave, I don’t mind. I’m almost done anyways.”

He frowned. “Is that your answer?”

You turned around. “What? You want me to beg for your company?” You smiled. “You’re mistaken if you think I’d ever do that.”

“I’m staying.” Jungkook crumpled up the piece of cupcake wrapping and threw it in the trash can besides your body. He watched you for a moment as you started to throw the leftovers away, your back turned to him and a distracted look on your face. When he broke the silence again, you were throwing the last piece of bread in the bin. “Why are you volunteering?”

“Because I like giving back to the community.”

Jungkook sneered at your words. “Seriously now. Don’t lie, we’re in a church.”

“I do, actually,” you stood your ground. There was a vague sound of crickets coming from the half-open window and the low buzzing of the fluorescent lights above you, but, other than that, the city was covered in absolute silence. Perhaps that was why you felt so at peace. “But my mom told me it would be a good thing to keep myself relaxed. You know, take my mind off college stuff.”

He hummed, and you heard him getting up from the chair. “You always do what your mom tells you?”

You met his gaze. “Didn’t your parents make you come here?”

He smiled. “Not the point.”

Before you could hold yourself back, your lips were curling up. Again: Jungkook wasn’t absolutely awful to be around when he actually acted like a human being. “When she says something I agree with, yes,” you told him. “My ego isn’t bruised when it comes to following someone’s idea.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You’re saying that mine is?”

“I didn’t say that.” You smirked and turned back to the table. You started piling up the used plastic cups, already eyeing all the used plates, forks and knives that you’d have to throw away. The daycare had better eating manners than that. “Thought we were talking about me.”

“We were,” Jungkook agreed. One of his inked hands moved to the table, and you were about to tell him that he could eat more of the cupcakes when you realized that he had started to reach for the discardable plates, throwing them away. You really didn’t think he’d help you. “Finals are coming up, though, and you care about that shit. Shouldn’t you be using this time to study or something?”

“I study while you’re out here listening to becoming your real self or, I don’t know... waking up the giant within,” you said. “I’m fine, don’t worry about it.”

He hummed, his nose cringing up at the disgusting remains of food that stuck to the plastic forks. Jungkook seriously didn’t know how you could do that for fun. “You know there are better ways to relax than cleaning up a dusty room, right?”

“Probably,” you agreed. The cups were already in the trash, alongside with the plates, and there were only a few crumpled up napkins to get rid of before you tasted the sweet nectar of freedom. “But here I am. That’s what I chose for myself.”

“Literally any other option would’ve been better,” Jungkook pressed on. “Isn’t that obnoxious friend of yours in cheer or something?”

“Who? Jisoo?” You smiled at him. No one had ever called her obnoxious, but you couldn’t say that the title didn’t fit. Jisoo could be really… intense when it came to standing up for what she believed in. “She is. She invited me to join her already, if that’s what you’re gonna ask, but it’s not really my thing.”

“It’s a shame,” he mumbled, leaning against the table. It was a beautiful miracle how clean that room had become just by getting rid of the piles of gross food, and you had proudly thrown the last piece of paper inside the trash bin when Jungkook spoke up again. “You’d look really hot in that outfit.”

You stopped in your tracks, taking a second to digest the claim he had so mindlessly thrown your way. Just like all-things-Jungkook, a pleasant conversation could not last long, so you weren’t even surprised that he managed to ruin that talk with such a fuckboy-esque comment.

Also like all-things-Jungkook, he managed to awaken a reaction out of you that you didn’t even know could be there. With a faint heat in your cheeks and a frown blossoming amongst your features, you actually felt a little bit of... satisfaction with the fact that he thought that you’d look hot in that skimpy outfit. At the same time, you wanted to slap yourself for falling into his charms so easily.

In that conflicting turmoil of emotions, all you could say was a monotone, “You cannot be serious right now.”

Even if you kind of wanted him to be serious.

“I’m being dead serious,” Jungkook didn’t back down, much to the elation of your ego. You felt like a schoolgirl being recognized by her crush, and the idea alone made your stomach curl onto itself. What the hell were you even thinking about? Yeah, Jungkook was pretty hot, but he was also kind of a douche and you didn’t want to get involved with that mess of a person. Or at least that was what you were trying to convince yourself of. “I mean…” he continued, “you’re even rocking this knee-level dress right now, can’t even imagine how you’d look if—“

“You can shut up now, Jungkook, thanks,” you interrupted him. Because you didn’t know how to act when he was so blatantly flirting with you, you switched back to the same passive-aggressive behavior that you had given him for the past three months. Call it self-preservation, call it panic, but your mind simply didn’t know where to go from there. “And I’m also done here, so you can skidaddle back to whatever swamp you came out of.”

“Awn, don’t be mean, princess.” He pouted. Jungkook was a master at getting you worked up, and you had just given that to him on a silver platter. Maybe if you had mock-flirted back, he would’ve baked away. You would never know. “I was just fucking with you, you’re too easy to tease.”

You pressed your lips together, hip touching the corner of the now empty table. “You were pretty much harassing me,” you said playfully.

“I was not.” Jungkook smirked, shoving his hands inside the pockets of his pants. When had the two of you gotten so close? There was barely any space between your chests. “But it’s okay, I’m not gonna compliment you anymore, don’t worry. You don’t have to be so defensive.”

“I’m not being defensive,” you said, defensive.

“What, is it the church setting?” He raised his eyebrows, taking a look around. “Is it making you uncomfortable?”

“No,” you answered, crossing your arms before your chest. Jungkook followed the movement and his gaze got stuck on the shape of your breasts for a second too long, making a newfound wave of heat rise up to your cheeks. “Not as much as you’re trying to make me uncomfortable right now.”

He chuckled. “You do look cute when you’re shy,” Jungkook teased, taking a step towards you, and you took another one back, pretending you were just going to lean against the table. You sat on it in a weird diagonal position, with one leg still on the ground and the other dangling over the edge. Jungkook was so close that, when he spoke again, voice just above a whisper, you could feel his breath on your skin. “If you don’t want me here, just ask me to go and I’ll go.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. The atmosphere was filled with electricity, your body drowning in the warmth of his presence, the sharp seriousness in his dark eyes, and you could not bring yourself to say anything. Did you want him to leave?

No, you realized in a rush of adrenaline, you didn’t want him to leave at all.

Jungkook raised one of his eyebrows. “Hm? Nothing?” He smirked, placing himself between your legs. Every nerve of your body was screaming for you to touch him, to just wrap his mouth with yours, and you simply could not respond to any of its commands. “You’re full of surprises.”

You found your voice at that comment, heart hammering against your chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re a smart girl, you can figure it out.” Jungkook placed one strand of your hair behind your ear, his gaze flickering down to your chest. From where he stood, he could see the beautiful mounds of your breasts peeking under the fabric, licking his lips at the sight. “Can I at least say that I like your dress?”

Jungkook’s palm slithered up your knee before you could even react, moving towards your inner thigh and raising your dress along with it. His touch was electrifying, and you found yourself craving more of it, a sigh caught on your throat at the tenderness of his hot skin.

“Something tells me that your compliment isn’t so innocent,” you told him, leaning your head back slightly so you could hold his gaze. “Aren’t you gonna complete that and say that I would look better without it?”

Jungkook chuckled. “The idea is compelling, I’ll admit it,” he said, rubbing soft circles on your skin. His other hand slithered around your waist, pulling you closer to him. “But don’t need to take it off to fuck you.”

Your eyes grew wide at that, brain short-circuiting. You frankly couldn’t believe that was happening — the fact that Jungkook was so shamelessly trying (and honestly succeeding) to initiate sex with you. In a fucking church too, of all places. “What- what did you say?”

“You heard what I said.” His stare didn’t falter. Jungkook was looking at you like he could eat you whole, and you seriously wouldn’t mind if he tried to. You'd deal with the social and psychological implications of that another time. “Just tell me to stop and I’ll do it, princess. No hard feelings, promise.”

This time, you spoke out and the firmness and certainty in your voice surprised even yourself. “I don’t want you to stop.”

“No?” His voice sounded like honey, so deep and melodic even through the thick layers of his sarcasm. You had never heard him get so serious, so focused, and the thought that it was all for you was igniting a fire inside your guts. “You wanna get fucked in a church?”

You bit your lip, blinking up at him. The point was: you wanted Jungkook, of all people, to fuck you. The fact that it was in a church was just the cherry on top, and you didn’t care about it as much as you should — your mom would be weeping blood if she knew what was going on, but you weren’t planning on telling anything to anybody. “And what if I do?” You asked back teasingly.

Jungkook smiled, knocking the breath right out of you. You could only hope that you didn’t look as horny as you felt, because your pride was still on the line. “Told you that you were full of surprises.” He pushed one of your legs open, making you lose your support on the floor. Now, both of your feet were dangling off the edge, body trapped between his strong arms and thighs on either side of him. “Are you a virgin, baby?”

You shook your head, and your voice reached you a bit later. “No.”

“Naughty,” Jungkook said, leaning in. He stared at you like a lion stalking its prey, his gaze lingering on your parted lips before, at last, he tilted his head to the side, deciding to move towards your neck instead. “But if you have the taste I think you do, you probably had some lame missionary sex with some goodie-two shoes.”

When he started kissing your neck, you almost forgot to give him a response. You had to bite your lip to suppress a moan, instead producing a low, shaky sigh. “And if I did? What’s the problem with some lame missionary sex?”

“No need to get mad, I’m on your side here,” Jungkook said, one of his hands navigating up your waist, between the valley of your breasts, before grabbing your boob. That time, you couldn’t hold back the whimper that escaped you. “Did he make you cum?”

“Sometimes,” you said, slightly flustered. You didn’t think you’d be discussing your sexual history with Jungkook, but, well, there you were. “He was alright.”

“Only sometimes?” Jungkook chuckled, the vibrations of his deep timbre vibrating through the sensitive skin of your neck, his thumb grazing your nipple. The heat between your legs only grew, your entire body practically begging to feel more of him. “That’s a shame, I could do better.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t start getting cocky.”

“I never stopped being cocky,” he responded without hesitation. Well, he was right. “And I do have a good track record.”

“Doubt it,” you said, the ghost of a smile lingering on your lips. You knew that you were playing a dangerous game, pressing right at the weak spots of his inflated ego to see how he would react. Perhaps you’d be luckier trying to poke a bear with a short stick. “You wouldn’t know the difference between a real and fake orgasm even if it hit you in the face.”

Jungkook leaned back and looked at you for an instant. You knew he had caught onto your challenge straight away. He liked it as much as you did, there was no doubt about that. “Let’s see, shall we?” he asked. There was no denying the devilish aura that was all around him now, suffocating you with its tempting heat. “How long do we have?”

“I’m locking up the room tonight,” you said, watching as his eyes sparked with an emotion you could not decipher. “But I wanna get home before ten. Have homework.”

You could see him fighting against the natural urge to ridicule you for saying something like that at such an odd time, but, at the end, he managed to avoid it. “More than enough time.” Jungkook placed one hand on the back of your neck, gaze darting hungrily toward your lips. “Come here.”

And then his mouth was on yours, and everything else was white noise. Jungkook kissed you much slower than you had anticipated, taking his sweet time caressing your mouth with his; hands exploring the curves of your body and teasing their way underneath your dress. He sighed heavily against your mouth when you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss, his soft tongue poking out and entering your mouth perfectly. Jungkook was a good kisser, you had to admit it, and he got your knees weak sooner than you’d like.

His body was hot and firm against yours and you could feel the outline of his abs underneath your fingers as you trailed your hands down his torso; his quick heartbeat drumming on your palms. Jungkook’s breathing got heavier as you hooked your fingers on the hem of his pants and tugged him toward you. Instantly you noticed the outline of his hard cock against your inner thigh.

Then, something switched. Just as you had reached out to touch his hardness, squeezing it lightly underneath your fingers, Jungkook groaned against your mouth and bit down on your lip. You had barely any time to react before he was pulling away from the kiss, gaze darkening.

“Such a tease,” he mumbled hoarsely, his breath hitting your mouth in soft waves. His hand was hovering over your heat, his middle finger pressing down on your sensitive nub, making you whimper. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

Jungkook was much quicker than your thoughts and, within a second, the motion of your panties being pushed aside made you fumble closer to him; your hands holding tightly onto his shoulders when he finally decided to touch you.

“Fuck,” he groaned next to your ear, making your mind go blank for a split second. The teasing motions of his digits brushing your entrance were enough to make you whimper, hips thrusting forward in a failed attempt to make him move further. “Look at this, you’re soaking my fingers. Wanna get fucked that bad?”

But he didn’t let you respond. The sudden intrusion of two fingers inside your pussy made your back arch, nails digging in the leather of his jacket as Jungkook opened you up. “I—” you tried to speak, but it was hard to think when he started pumping his fingers in and out of you. The sounds of your wetness were a filthy symphony filling the quiet atmosphere. “Jungkook, what—”

“God, that’s so tight,” he groaned, speaking through clenched teeth. His voice was enough to shut you up at the spot, a frail moan dripping from your lips. “Relax, baby, you’re too tense. Let me take care of you, alright?”

You nodded, eyes drifting shut as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of you. You hated to admit it, but Jungkook was already winning against your ex by a long shot: the way his digits brushed inside you, gradually moving apart to stretch you, got you searching — begging — for more. You were sure you could cum around his fingers and, when he curled them up and they dragged against your sweet spot, the idea became a lot more palpable.

“Jungkook, you’re taking too long, I’m gonna cum like this,” you complained, chest rising and falling under the waves of your upcoming orgasm. You could feel it building up in your stomach, ready to snap, and you didn’t want it to happen around his fingers. “I wanna feel you.”

Jungkook breathed out at your needy request, placing a kiss against your jaw. “I’m just getting you ready for my cock, baby,” he said. A loud moan dripped from you when he unceremoniously added a third finger, your legs trembling on either side of his body. “I don’t know if you can take it.”

You scoffed. “Don’t flatter yourself,” you said, only half aware of the fact that your voice sounded more like a whimper than a serious comment. “I can.”

He smirked wickedly. You really were pushing his buttons. “We’ll see about that,” Jungkook responded.

Within a second, right as your orgasm was about to wash over you, he removed his fingers from your pussy. The frustrated moan you let out was quickly swollen by him, his mouth rogue against yours and the sweetness of his tongue intoxicating you — probably those stupid cupcakes, you thought.

“Turn around for me,” he asked.

You quickly did as he requested, putting your feet on the ground before turning your back to him, hands leaning on the table. Jungkook placed one hand on the curve of your spine, pushing you down until you had your chest against the surface, ass perked up and pussy in full display for him. There was a gush of cold air against your flesh when he pulled up the fabric of your dress and tossed it over your waist, exposing your lower body for him.

The boy hummed at the sight, one of his legs kicking your feet apart so he could position himself in the middle of your thighs. “You’re pretty all around,” Jungkook commented, one of his palms grazing your asscheek before grabbing it. His motion was harsh, needy; earning a whimper from you. “Knew you would be.”

Through the dense clouds of your desire, there was still some part of you that managed to make fun of that situation. “You spend your free time thinking about my ass?”

“Won’t answer until I have a lawyer present,” he joked.

You felt his fingers hooking around the fabric of your panties, pushing it further to the side so you had your cunt fully exposed for him to see. The drumming of your heartbeat almost drowned out the low groan he produced at the sight of your flushed heat.

“Princess, your pussy is dripping so much…” Jungkook trailed off, one of his fingers tracing a line between your lips. He felt the urge to eat you out, to lick you completely clean and make you cum on his tongue, but he decided that would have to wait for a different time. “Is this all for me?”

“Yeah, all for you,” you said, weak. There was a thundering exasperation building up inside you, motivated from your denied orgasm and from the way that Jungkook was taking his sweet time.

“Good girl,” he mumbled and your chest was filled with pride. “Can’t wait to fuck it.”

“Then don’t wait,” you practically begged. “Just rush.”

He removed his finger from your heat. “Shh… be patient,” Jungkook told you and you swore you could practically hear the smile in his voice. You could hear him shuffling behind you, the sound of his zipper opening echoing around that still room. “I’m gonna give you whatever you want.”

You whined at the abrupt feeling of his warm cock rubbing between your folds, its tip hitting your clit after every languid thrust. “Fuck,” you cried out, shaky. Jungkook wasn’t lying when he said that he was big, his length was so thick that you were starting to get second thoughts whether you could take it or not. Not that you would ever admit it out loud. “Just put it in, Jungkook.”

But Jungkook was having way more fun just teasing you. “Pussy’s so wet for me.” He breathed out, his hands tightening around your hips. You felt him throb between your folds, and the sensation got you searching for air. “You’re soaking my cock, baby. You want it that much?”

“Y-Yeah.”

Jungkook hummed, leaning in so he could place a kiss on your shoulder. “I’m gonna fuck you like you deserve to be fucked, princess,” he promised, his length still rubbing between your folds. He was so hard and heavy that your mind was spinning, your lungs drowning in expectation. “Gonna fuck you so well that you’re never going to forget it. Do you want that?”

“Yes,” your voice was a pathetic moan, and you hated your body for betraying you so easily. “Yes, please.”

After another pec on your shoulder, Jungkook leaned back. “Be loud for me, alright?” He asked. “Can you do that for me?”

You swallowed hard — what were the chances that someone would hear you? You had no idea. “Yeah, whatever you want, just fuck me.”

“Whatever I want? That’s a dangerous thing to say.” He moved around behind you, making you flinch when you felt his cock align with your dripping entrance. The anticipation was driving you insane. “Might have to see if you’re up for it another time.”

There was an answer somewhere in your mind — you could swear there was — but it was quickly forgotten the second that Jungkook pushed himself inside you. The drag of his cock was a delicious torture, streching you out and filling you up to the brim until you were shaking under his touch, both of you moaning at the sensation.

“Oh my god.” You breathed out, hands turning into fists on the table. Your cheek was pressed against the polished wood, hot breath creating small white clouds on the surface.

Jungkook released a shaky sigh when he felt you clenching around him, your body desperately trying to move closer to him. “Fuck, baby,” he hissed, his hands holding onto your hips for dear life. Gradually, he moved himself away from your pussy just so he could slam back inside, marveling on the way you trembled at the feeling, crying out his name in the prettiest of whimpers. “Your pussy is so fucking tight. Squeezing my cock so well.”

Took you only an instant to realize that you were absolutely addicted to the feeling of his cock inside you, the heavenly push of his hardness in and out of you as he slowly started to set a pace. “Oh my god, I’m—” a pitiful hiccup interrupted you, turning your voice into a sharp cry. “That’s so good, Jungkook.”

Jungkook chuckled behind you, his thrusts starting to pick up speed. Your eyes closed in endless bliss, every part of your brain focused on the sensation of his fat length stretching you up. “Told you I’d be, not my fault you didn’t believe me,” he said, but you could tell that his confidence had started to wear itself thin — he, too, seemed to be much more focused on the way that your bodies met. “Do you touch yourself, princess?”

You almost didn’t know how to answer him, a deep heat rushing up to your cheeks. “W-What?”

“When you’re alone, baby,” he practically hissed. You were bouncing on the table then, your body jerking up and down as he fully pistoned his cock inside your heat. “Do you play with your little pussy?”

“Y-yes,” you stammered, embarrassed. “S-Sometimes.”

“Show me how you do it,” he requested in-between huffs, lust dripping from every syllable. Jungkook spoke to you like a siren, effortlessly inducting you to comply with everything he wanted. “Come on. Don’t be shy, I wanna see you play with yourself for me.”

You didn’t even know if what you were feeling was shyness, but there was a veil of hesitation that covered your actions. As your hands moved downwards, one of them clenching around the fabric of your dress and pulling it up while the other trailed over your mound, you felt strangely vulnerable, exposed. At the same time, you wanted to do what he asked you to, wanted him to wash you over with compliments until your mind was going blank.

So you closed your eyes and focused on the sensation of two of your fingers coating themselves in your wetness, then their pressure on your clit. You whined at the feeling, pleasure exploding in your veins as you started to rub yourself, tracing small circles on your sensitive spot. There was no way you could ever reach that sensation again, the sweet motions of your fingers combining perfectly with the thrusts of his hard, fat cock inside you. You were doomed.

“That’s it… just like that, baby,” Jungkook whispered, obsessed with the sensation of your walls fluttering around him. You had gotten so tight that he thought he would see heaven at any second now. “Feels good?”

“Y-Yeah, so good...” you struggled to get out, “feels amazing, Jungkook.”

“So perfect for me,” his praise shot straight up to your core, making you mewl under him. God, the way that you were tightening around him was going to drive him insane. “You feel so fucking good, I can’t stop fucking you.”

Jungkook took one of his hands to your neck, using it to guide your body upwards until you had your back pressed against his chest; his hot lips assaulting your neck. The new position made it so much easier for his cock to drill inside you, reaching even deeper and hitting sweet spots you didn’t even know you had. It wasn’t long before you were moaning out, eyes fluttering shut as the pleasure overtook you.

“Just take a look at that, baby,” his voice broke you out of your hypnotized state. “Look at you. Such a good slut, just taking everything I’m giving you, touching yourself for my cock… fuck. Could watch you like this forever.”

You had to take a moment to understand what he was talking about, and then you saw it: the window. It stood silently across the room from you, half open, and the glass combined with the darkness of the night gave a perfect reflection of the two of you. You could see yourself, the mess you had become, as Jungkook pounded in and out of you and your fingers worked on your clit; the darkness of his hungry gaze as he followed the motions of your body against his.

Even if you cried out at the sight, your body freezed up a little at the thought of someone walking by and seeing that private spectacle. The possibility itself was minimal — the window gave way to the side of the land, where a big, thick fence separated it from the nearby houses; most of the ground covered by large trees and bushes — but it wasn’t zero. You couldn’t even begin to imagine the humiliation that would come from being seen like that.

He, of course, noticed your change of demeanor right away, and you could see in the faint reflection that he had smirked at that realization. “What is it? Are you worried someone is going to walk by?” Jungkook almost groaned against your ear. His cock continued to pump ferociously in and out of you, and you couldn’t even understand your own thoughts for a moment. “That someone is gonna see you get fucked like a good slut?”

“It’s not—” a moan cut your sentence short. Not like you knew where you were heading, anyways.

“No one is gonna see you like this, know why?” Jungkook was grunting, his fingers tightening around your throat. You cried out at the feeling, your cunt clenching around him in a way that got him fucking you even harder. “Cause this is all for me. Just for me.”

Then he was pushing you back on the table, your chest crashing against the wooden surface and his hands yanking you by the waist. Jungkook was fucking you so hard that your worries left you as soon as they arrived, your mind a turmoil of desires and broken exclamations that didn’t give space to anything else but him.

“You look fucking gorgeous like this, stuffed with cock,” he marveled at the sight. There was a known wave of pleasure hovering over you, ready to crash at any given moment, and you stopped rubbing yourself just so you could prolong its arrival. “Wanna see you cum for me, make a mess for me, baby.”

The words left you in a confusing, broken order, “Jungkook, I can’t… too much… can’t...”

“Shhh, you can,” he was slowly easing you into your orgasm, his cock drilling in and out of your pussy. Jungkook fucked like a machine, fast and precise, and you didn’t think you’d be able to forget that anytime soon. “You told me you could take it, so now you’re gonna take it. Don’t you wanna be good for me?”

“I- I want to… I’m so close,” you cried out, pressing your forehead against the table. You didn’t know how it hadn’t broken yet, with the way that Jungkook was fucking you so mercilessly hard. “I’m so, so close.”

“Cream my cock, baby, come on,” he urged you on, his member throbbing inside you at the thought. Your legs were so weak that you knew you’d fall facedown on the floor if he wasn’t supporting your weight with his strong arms. “Be a good girl and cream my cock for me.”

And that was it. That was all that you needed to push yourself over the edge, submerging you in ecstasy and making you squeeze him so deliciously. “J-Jungkook!” You moaned out his name again and again, unsure of how loud you were being, but also not caring as much as you should. Jungkook realized he loved hearing you call his name more than anything else. “Fuck! Oh my god!”

“That’s it, baby,” he moaned back, his thrusts a sloppy, uncoordinated mess. He was hypnotized by the view of your cunt hugging him, your wetness dripping down your thighs as you rode out the last seconds of your orgasm. “Pussy’s so fucking tight, so fucking perfect— gonna cum too.”

You gasped out at the sensitivity that was starting to spread, every movement shaky as you tried to push yourself against him. “Yes, please.” You looked over your shoulder, meeting his hooded gaze. Jungkook looked like a god, his dark hair sweaty and messy and his lip trapped between his teeth. That image would plague you forever. “Cum inside me, please.”

He groaned loudly, eyes closing for a second. “Fuck, that’s so fucking hot,” he hissed, chest heaving with anticipation. You knew he was close, everything pointed to that, and all that you wanted was to see him reach his high, using your body like it was just a doll for him to fuck. “Didn’t know you’d want to be filled up with cum, princess.”

“I’m full of surprises.” You smiled — a pretty, fucked-out smile that got Jungkook grunting like a madman. “I want your cum inside me, Jungkook, please.”

“Gonna fuck you full of my cum, don’t worry— Shit.” The sounds he was making were heavily: those breathy, high-pitched moans that echoed all around you; broken by deep grunts that had your thighs shaking. Jungkook fucked himself in you like he was meant for it, throwing his head back and closing his eyes as he finally found his orgasm. “Fuck! That’s it, fuck—”

Jungkook called out your name and mixed it with praises and curses when he came, spilling himself inside your pussy. You sighed at the feeling, taking in the blissful sensation of having his hot cum spilling out of you, dripping down your legs as he continued to thrust inside you, milking out his orgasm.

At last, he started to wince from sensitivity. His body collided against your back, his heavy breathing fanning your neck as he tried to collect himself. “Fuck, baby,” he mumbled, “you’re amazing.”

“You’re not so terrible yourself.” You could not help the smile that appeared on your lips, nor the way that you melted against the surface of the table, drowning in his heat.

Still, you couldn’t stay there for much longer: it was already a miracle that no one heard the chaos going on in that room, and you weren’t trying to push your luck for the night. Especially since you had a pile of homework (and possibly — now cold — takeout) waiting for you at home.

You raised your body, leaning against your elbows. “I have to leave,” you told him, taking one of your hands to lay on top of his tattooed one, trying to ease his grip from your waist. “Now if you could just…”

“Shhh, shhh,” Jungkook hushed, unrelenting. He was much stronger than you, and your muscles were too weak for you to try and do much, so you eventually gave up. “Stop moving. Let me feel you around me for just a bit more.”

You frowned. “Why?”

“I like it,” he said simply. His breath was a faint caress against the skin of your neck, and you didn’t have much fight left in you. “We all have our tastes.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re so weird.”

“Don’t kinkshame.” Jungkook pouted, then pressed a kiss against your shoulder. “You just begged me to fuck you in a church, remember?”

“Yeah, I guess I don’t have much place to judge.” You laughed dryly, then looked over your shoulder. “Why is your cock still hard? How long is this gonna take?”

Jungkook groaned, clearly annoyed. “Shut up and enjoy the moment.”

The so-called moment lasted about two more minutes (which was kind of impressive, you thought) before Jungkook softened and slipped out of you. You hated to admit but you kind of liked the feeling of having him still inside you, completing you as his lips danced around your neck; fingers tenderly playing with your hair. You never thought Jungkook would be so gentle after fucking you like that, but you guessed that you weren’t the only one that was full of surprises.

Jungkook, apparently, also liked to admire his work. After he had slipped out of you, he made you sit back on the table just so he could stare at his own cum dripping out of you, a glimmer of satisfaction in his dark gaze. He had pushed his white release back inside you and smirked up at you, asking, ever so kindly, for you to go home like that, filled with his cum.

You, of course, promptly accepted it.

“By the way,” he called when you two had already stepped out of the church, enveloped by the coldness of the night. There was only one solitary light pole illuminating his features, making him look like one of the saints in the chapel — nothing but fake advertisement, in your opinion. “Wanna know how much I got in that immunology test?”

“How much?” You asked.

“Eighty two.” Jungkook smiled brightly then, and you found yourself joining him. “Never saw a grade so high in my life. And that counts all the times I’ve cheated too.”

“Seems like the tutoring sessions are paying off.” You crossed your arms before your chest, the hem of your dress swirling around your knees. The night was weirdly peaceful after everything that had taken place.

“They are.” He nodded. “I’m looking forward to the next one. Helps that my tutor is kind of a hottie too.”

You scoffed. “So I’ve heard.”

“And, by the way?”

“Yeah?”

“You would look better without it.” He pointed at your dress, a sly smile already sprouting on his lips. “Hope to see it next time.”

“Good night, Jungkook.” You rolled your eyes, already turning around — yeah, like there would ever be a next time.

BAD INFLUENCE COLLECTION

TAGLIST:

@taehyungieskith @fan-ati--c @btstrasht @crazy4myself @sashimi-mochi @ft-multi @kooafraid @dianaaviny @ggukkieland @cryinginmypromdress @kissestothesky

#bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook #bts #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook #bad boy au #smut #reader insert #bts x you #bts x reader #bad boy jungkook #bts au #jungkook au #series #pwp #fluff

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genshxn · 3 years ago

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𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞 𝐚𝐮 𝐡𝐜𝐬.

Can I ask for a modern au, college with childe, zhongli and diluc?? 🥺🥺🥺

hhhh i’m not super well versed in college/university experiences fjwjwmsmd

ANYWAY lemme know if i should do more hcs related to this college au n just what characters are what n shite

also zhongli’s turned into a coffee shop au lmao

-> 𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐚, 𝐳𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢, 𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐮𝐜

warnings ; alcohol (diluc’s)

𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐚

you’re both second-year undergrad students

He’s definitely attending uni with a scholarship for the swim team. I feel like he’d be doing a general studies degree cuz he doesn’t know what he wants to do lol

You can tell just by looking at him he’s super athletic. He’s always walking around looking like he just got out of the pool with wet hair, slightly damp clothes and stupid looking slides.

The way you met was through Math 200, (maybe) your least favourite class, but you had to take it to fulfil a degree requirement.

His shirts always have some bizarre design on them. One day he turned up wearing a shirt that’s just the design of beef cup ramen.

You’d always look at his shirts (which are slightly wet) whenever he came in and sat down next to you. He notices it each time but doesn’t say anything.

Finally, he says something after the fourth time. “You keep checking me out. Like what you see?” He raises his eyebrows at you in a joking manner.

Such an abrupt assumption made you suddenly snort, which confused the other man. Needless to say, he was embarrassed you assumed wrong. But that kind of broke the ice for you two to ask each other for help on certain tricky questions or similar.

It didn’t take long for you and him to become friends. You started to have study sessions together, but that would often end in watching dumb videos on his laptop or something.

Listening to his laughter, so full of life was really heartwarming. It was the same for him as well, as he would sometimes just listen to your

Not much later, he’d invite you to come and watch his swim meets whenever he was competing. Hearing your whoops and cheers for him when he wins leaves him feeling even more chuffed than winning, which is strange to him.

Sometimes you’d also come along to watch his practices to hang out or study afterwards. Most of the time you’d be trying to study up in the bleachers, but you’d also sometimes catch yourself staring at Ajax. Oops. You can’t help that he’s hot.

When you do come along to watch his swim practices, he finds himself wanting your eyes on him while he practices. Does he want your encouragement? Or does he want you checking him out? Judging by his feelings, both. Both are good.

Yeah, you’ve both gone and gotten crushes on each other.

𝐳𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢

you’re undergrad 3rd/4th year and he’s a first-year graduate student

He probably looks like a professor by his put-together but casual attire, but he’s actually a student. Specifically, a first-year graduate student doing a double major in business and philosophy. He sounds like he’s going to be very annoying.

He's constantly running on caffeine. You don’t know how he’s upright.

You noticed that you go to the same cafe on campus a lot to study in between classes. You’ve overheard his coffee orders, and it sounds like he’s drinking pure caffeine based on his tea orders at that cafe.

You've recently become a regular at the cafe too for study purposes. When your attention drifts, you've noticed that he sometimes glances over at you. Sometimes you make brief eye contact. Now you throw each other awkward waves.

You have little to no idea about this guy other than he seems like he's constantly got caffeine running through him. So in an attempt to break this weird stalemate you have in terms of communication, you order a cup of coffee for him from you.

He was surprised at the action, but it was in its mission because he thanked you for it. That marked the beginning of your coffee shop-au-esque relationship.

You found out he's a first-year graduate student, so a few years old than you, and that he's doing a double major. No wonder he's studying every time you see him.

Because you're in different years, you don't share any classes, but it turns out that Zhongli took some of the same courses in the past, so if time is permitting, he'll help you study for the classes he's done before.

By pure chance, your schedules were pretty similar, so Zhongli began to pick you up after some of your last classes where you would make your way to your usual cafe and sit at Zhongli's usual table together where you began your studying.

If you ever needed something explained to you, Zhongli would happily help guide you if he knew what you were asking, which was about 99% of the time. You felt bad because you couldn't really help him back in any way.

After a while, you noticed that when he’d be explaining something to you, his words would become meaningless, and you’d just listen to the sound of his voice purely for the sound, and getting distracted by staring at his face.

He’d notice and say your name, which would quickly snap you back to reality from just staring at his pretty face. It’d often leave you pretty flustered as Zhongli just laughed softly to himself. Mmm, college coffee shop crushes.

It was moments like these that Zhongli found himself wanting more and more of. He’d find you’d sometimes just drift into mind, leaving him with a warm, fuzzy feeling.

Let’s be real, he’s probably a bit dense and doesn’t realize his feelings until he gets told to his face after he was talking about you to Ningguang, his friend and classmate.

𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐮𝐜

you’re both second-year undergrad students

Diluc is also doing a business major let’s be real.

At the beginning of the first term, he dresses really well so you can tell he’s definitely well off, but after like 2 weeks he gives up and just turns up in a random hoodie and sweatpants. Jeans if he’s feeling adventurous.

You know this because you’d sometimes watch this flame-red hair classmate walk in. His hair is so eye-catching, you assume it’s dyed. Then again, there’s another first-year who’s got naturally dark blue hair.

After a few days, he noticed your staring and started to stare back. Most of the time it’s just a kind of dead fish stare but recently he’s been getting more curious, which is evident in his returning stare.

So he decided to find out. And you tell him it’s his “Tomato red-ass hair.” Something about the directness of it caught him off guard and made him laugh a little bit.

Maybe he was just a bit confused by you after that, because that comment just lived in his kind rent free. As a result, he sat down next to you and actually kind of initiated conversation which is a rarity for him. He told you your comment just baffled him.

From there you became pretty good friends, to your surprising. For whatever classes you share together, you’d sometimes study together. It was typically at a particular spot on campus where you’d sit. You noticed that Diluc would take out his ponytail as well when he’s studying. He looks really nice when his hair down. You’d just sometimes stare at him when he’d play with it absentmindedly. Maybe you’re starting to like him…

Soon, you found out that he tends to a bar that his family has owned for a long time, so you decided to drop by one time when he was on shift.

He was surprised to see you come since you hadn’t announced you were doing so. So as one does as a bar, you got a bit drunk to say the least. From there, you started becoming very honest about Diluc.

You hadn’t known each other for super long, but you thought he was very attractive and that his red hair was really pretty. You also went into detail on how much you wanted to play with his hair. You pretty much spill that you have a crush on him, which makes his face nearly go as red as his hair.

You didn’t remember it, but he had a very hard time trying not to get flustered in the middle of his shift. He had to send you home in a taxi because of how drunk you’d gotten, and he wanted to know you’d be home safe when it was late and not stumbling around some random part of town. (He would have taken you home himself but he was still on shift.)

The next day, your memory was foggy but you had a vague recollection that you’d gone and gushed over him. You were dying of embarrassment and hangover lmao

On the other end, another one of your comments was living rent free in Diluc’s mind. All this time you’d spent together in and out of classes had lead him to develop feelings for you as well. He didn’t say anything to you last night as he didn’t want to tell you when you were as drunk as you were.

The two of you went on as if that whole encounter hadn’t happened. You tried to pretend you forgot about it because you were drunk, and Diluc tried to pretend that you hadn’t said it. Reality was both of you were just in denial.

So now that your feelings hung out in the open, both sides became very awkward and flustered easily by small gestures such as hand touches and stares that lingered a little too long.

Someone save your souls because this is going to be a very awkward stalemate you’ve gotten yourselves into.

#tw alcohol #college au #not proofread #genshin #genshin impact #genshin fluff #genshin impact x reader #childe x reader #childe #tartaglia x reader #tartaglia #diluc x reader #diluc #zhongli x reader #zhongli

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crossbowking · 4 years ago

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More Than Anything (Part 1)

Summary: (Set mid-season 6) The reader's feelings towards the archer evolve, but a supply run that goes south threatens to destroy it all.

Request: "I'd love to see something w protective Daryl and some angst, maybe set at the start of their time in Alexandria w an established relationship?" - @pulplorrd

A/N: Thank you all for the love regarding "Honey & Whiskey" - I loved writing that story, but I'm also super happy to finally be able to move onto something else! I very rarely write established Daryl x Reader stories, so this one was super fun to do!

This is part 1/2.

Happy reading!

xx Jess

Masterlist

Tip Jar

Sunlight trickled in through the open window, a gentle breeze rousing you from an otherwise undisturbed sleep.

Cracking an eye open, you squinted against the sun rays streaming over your features as a soft sigh escaped past your lips. Burying your face into your pillow, you extended an arm out across the mattress, your brow furrowing when you felt an empty space beside you. Pushing up onto your elbow, you rubbed your eye with the heel of your palm before glancing over at the vacant spot.

“D?” you murmured softly, voice still thick with sleep. You cleared your throat, twisting onto your side as you surveyed the rest of the bedroom. “Daryl?” you called out once more, feeling a familiar pinprick of worry when no response followed.

You flipped onto your back with a huff, taking a moment to stretch out your tired muscles before untangling yourself from the sheets and climbing out of bed. Fighting back a yawn, you padded across the floor and out into the hallway, listening for movement. When you heard a sudden clatter, followed by a rasped cuss, the corner of your mouth quirked up.

You made your way towards the noise, feeling some of the tightness in your chest fade with each step you drew near.

The end of the hallway led to a small, yet quaint, kitchen. When you reached the entryway, you faltered, observing the scene before you — Daryl was crouched down, one hand wielding a frying pan, the other scooping up a small mound of partially cooked eggs from off the floor and tossing them back into the skillet.

You stifled back the laugh building up inside you. “Hi,” you remarked, making your arrival known.

The archer’s gaze snapped up to meet yours, a flash of what looked like embarrassment flitting over his features before he ducked his head back down, effectively concealing his face with his hair. “Mornin’,” he rumbled, quickly wiping up the rest of the egg residue with the sleeve of his shirt.

A small smile pulled at your lips as you crossed your arms over your chest and leaned against the doorway. “Whatcha doin’?” you singsonged playfully, eyebrows raised.

Daryl’s brow furrowed as he stood, staring down defeatedly at the frying pan in his grip. “Cookin’,” he finally sighed, shrugging a shoulder up.

“I see that,” you laughed softly, crossing the length of the kitchen as the archer placed the skillet back onto the stovetop. “Smells good,” you remarked, coming to stand at his side.

“Dropped the —” Daryl spat out another curse as he attempted to scrape the burnt egg bits off the bottom of the pan. “— the damn — the damn thing,” he growled exasperatedly, waving at the pan with the spatula he held.

“It’s okay,” you reassured. “No one expects you to be Gordon Ramsey,” you teased, thoroughly amused.

But the reference seemed to go right over Daryl’s head as he turned to give you a confused look.

Your brow furrowed. “You know…Gordon Ramsey,” you reiterated pointedly.

“Huh?” the archer grunted, clearly at a loss.

“Oh, come on, you don’t — you’ve never heard of Gordon Ramsey?” you asked incredulously. “You know, Gordon Ramsey! The mean British chef!”

Daryl scrunched his nose up before shaking his head. “Ain’t never heard a’ that,” he rumbled, focusing back on the frying pan.

“Wow,” you murmured in disbelief. “That is so…so devastating,” you sighed, mockingly dramatic.

The archer snorted a laugh, the sound eliciting a rush of warmth through you. “Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, gently nudging you with his elbow.

You grinned cheekily, leaning over and resting your head against the curve of Daryl’s shoulder. He froze for a moment, old habits reappearing briefly before he relaxed beneath you and continued stirring the eggs.

An overwhelming sense of calm rushed over you, a feeling only the archer ever seemed to evoke. You closed your eyes, breathing in the comfort he so effortlessly exuded — and it wasn’t in anything he said or anything he did, it was just purely and wholeheartedly who he was. He was grounded, he was stable, he was here.

You’d missed this — you’d missed him.

The past month hadn’t been the easiest — Alexandria was still recovering from the destruction the dead had caused — but things were beginning to look up. The hundreds of slain walkers had finally been removed from within the community, Carl was recovering from his gunshot wound, and the wall that’d been destroyed was almost entirely rebuilt. There was a sense of hope, of purpose, in the air — your people had stared death in the face and prevailed.

But supplies were beginning to wear thin.

Most were hesitant to venture outside the walls, to leave the sanctuary that was Alexandria, and honestly, you didn’t blame them for that — especially after the attack brought on by the Wolves. You’d seen what other horrors existed outside those walls — hell, you’d lived through it. There was a big, bad, scary world just behind the scraps of steel and metal welded together surrounding the community — there was the dead, the undead, and the living.

The latter was most terrifying.

Still, there were mouths to feed, injuries to tend to, and somebody would have to leave eventually. It wasn’t much of a surprise when Daryl volunteered himself — that was just the kind of man he was. Aaron had decided to join him, determined to continue his search for any other lost souls seeking asylum.

But the supply run had taken longer than expected.

They’d only planned to be gone for three days — but after the fourth, fifth, sixth day that rolled by without any sign of return, you were nearly beside yourself with worry. It wasn’t that you thought they couldn’t handle themselves out there, you just wanted them home — you wanted him home. The tightness in your chest expanded with each day that passed, unease gnawing at your insides, fear settling like an anchor in the pit of your stomach.

Then just yesterday — day seven — right before sunset, Daryl and Aaron had come marching through the front gate. Apparently, their intended route had been cut off by a horde, which led to some rerouting, which resulted in an empty gas tank, which forced them to abandon their car, which meant walking the near-fifty miles back home.

“I was so worried,” you suddenly murmured, drawing yourself back to the present as you lifted your head off Daryl’s shoulder and glanced up at him.

The archer’s eyes flashed towards you for just a brief second before focusing downward, turning off the stovetop, and pulling the frying pan off the heat. “I came back,” he finally rasped after a long pause.

“Yeah,” you sounded, nodding your head absently, his words not making you feel all that better.

Daryl caught your gaze once more before he reached out and placed his hand against the side of your neck, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “C’mon, let’s eat,” he rumbled, pulling away a moment later.

You made a soft noise in protest, savoring the rare show of affection and earning an amused eye roll from the archer as he turned away — though you noticed the tips of his ears redden in the slightest.

When you’d first arrived at Alexandria, Deanna had provided two houses to be split amongst your entire group. As time went on and the safe haven had proven to be just that, slowly but surely, everyone began branching out and finding their own homes to settle into. Part of you had reservations about moving into one of the empty brownstone apartments, just you and Daryl, but things had been going well between you — really well, actually.

You settled atop one of the stools lining the small island in the middle of the kitchen, resting your elbows against the smooth marble countertop as you watched Daryl move about. He grabbed a plate from the cupboard, along with a fork from the utensil drawer before swinging around and sliding the items towards you. It was almost eerie how natural things felt in that moment — like a glimpse of what life might’ve looked like had the world not ended and the dead had stayed dead.

The archer grabbed the frying pan, turning towards you once more before using the spatula to dish out a hearty helping of eggs onto your plate. A smile tugged at the corner of your lips at the look of intense concentration masking his features — as though diffusing a bomb and not simply serving breakfast.

Daryl glanced up at you from beneath his hair, doing a quick double-take. “What?” he grunted defensively, appearing increasingly self-conscious all of the sudden.

“Nothing,” you quickly shook your head, letting out a soft laugh and picking up the utensil. “Thank you,” you grinned, gathering up a forkful of eggs.

“Mhm,” he grumbled in response, drumming his fingers against the counter as he carefully watched for your reaction, his nervousness evident — and incredibly endearing.

You took a big bite, humming a noise of satisfaction soon after. “Mmm,” you sounded around the mouthful of food before swallowing. “Chef Dixon,” you remarked cheekily.

Daryl scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Yeah right,” he rasped sarcastically, though you watched him visibly relax. He remained standing opposite of you, opting out from using a plate and eating the remaining eggs straight from the frying pan instead, scooping up a handful with his fingertips and shoveling them into his mouth.

A comfortable silence settled over the kitchen as the pair of you continued eating, sneaking glances at one another while the other wasn’t looking. You couldn’t help yourself — he was just so damn captivating. Even standing before you, devouring a panful of eggs with his bare hands like some kind of wild animal, you couldn’t help but feel your stomach flip-flop.

You’d never felt this way about anyone in your entire life — even before the end. But now…well, now you’d live this terrifying life a thousand times over if it meant finding him.

The sudden realization of what exactly you were feeling hit you hard, catching you off guard and causing you to choke on the mouthful of eggs you were chewing. Daryl’s head snapped up as you abruptly coughed, covering your mouth as your eyes began to water.

The archer was at your side a moment later. “Hey, ya alright?” he rumbled, gently patting his hand against your back.

You quickly nodded, attempting to wave him off as your cheeks tinged with embarrassment. “Yeah — yeah, no, I’m —” you coughed once more, the eggs finally dislodging from your throat. “I’m — I’m good,” you managed weakly, wiping at your eyes. “Jesus,” you wheezed as a sheepish laugh slipped past your lips, your coughs finally dying down.

“Ya sure?” Daryl pressed as he pulled his hand away from your back and rested it on top of your shoulder instead.

“No, no, yeah, no, I’m fine,” you quickly brushed him off. “Just went down the wrong pipe,” you lied, hoping your excuse sounded convincing enough as the feeling of vulnerability threatened to consume you.

If the archer was suspicious, he kept his expression neutral. He nodded once before softly squeezing your shoulder and pulling away — though he lingered nearby instead of moving back to where he’d originally stood.

“Anyways,” you pushed forward, clearing your throat, desperately wanting to ignore the revelation you’d had. “We, uh — we almost finished rebuilding the wall while you guys were gone. Rick’s got a crew working on dismantling the old one, too.”

Daryl watched your expression for a second longer than necessary, like he knew something was up but wasn’t exactly sure what. But after a moment, he relented. “Saw it on the way in las’ night,” he murmured, leaning down and resting his forearms against the edge of the counter. “Looks pretty solid.”

You nodded, huffing a breath. “Abraham’s leading the team — I’m pretty sure you couldn’t drive a tank through that wall.”

The archer scoffed. “Damn right,” he rasped before lowering his gaze, wringing his hands together atop the counter.

You studied his demeanor, feeling a pinprick of unease. “What is it?”

Daryl glanced up, flicking his hair away from his eyes with a quick jerk of the head. “M’, uh — m’ headin’ out again today,” he finally confessed, standing up straight.

You tried to keep your expression indifferent despite your stomach dropping. “Oh,” you voiced dishearteningly. “But — but you just got back,” you pointed out softly, hoping you didn’t sound as disappointed as you felt.

“I know,” he said, staring down at the counter, avoiding your gaze. “Jus’ a day trip, is all — Tara heard ‘bout a motel strip, maybe fifteen miles from here. Shouldn’t take more than a couple a’ hours. We’ll be in an’ out.”

You nodded slowly, pushing around the leftover eggs on your plate with your fork. “Alright,” you straightened up on your stool. “Well, I’ll come —”

Daryl started shaking his head before you could even finish your sentence, his eyes meeting yours. “Y/N —”

“Come on, Daryl,” you interjected, already figuring his response, swiveling in your seat to face him head-on. “I’m losing my mind here, okay? I’ve gotta get back out there and — and actually do something for this place.”

“Ya do enough already,” he shot back vehemently.

You fought back the urge to roll your eyes as you slid off the stool. “And besides, we’ll cover more ground faster if there’s three of us versus two,” you continued brusquely, gathering all the stray dishes on the counter.

“That ain’t the damn point,” Daryl growled, following you towards the kitchen sink.

“Yeah, and it's also not your decision," you finally snapped.

When the archer didn’t respond, stiffening beside you instead, a wave of guilt washed over you.

Exhaling a heavy breath, you gently set the dishes down in the sink before turning to face him. “Look, I get it,” you murmured softly. “I get it, D. But I can’t just hide out here for the rest of my life,” you explained. “Especially when you’re the one risking yours.”

Some of the fire in Daryl’s gaze diminished, replaced with a heaviness that wasn’t there before as his shoulders drooped.

You felt something tug at your heart as you stepped forward, reaching towards him and brushing away the hair that fell over his face. “I just got you back,” you whispered. “And I’m not ready to let go of that yet.”

When another long moment passed without a response, you were almost certain Daryl was going to object once more — but then, despite the tension in his features, his eyes softened.

“Alright,” he finally rumbled, the word seemingly caught in his throat — as though it physically pained him to say it.

A small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. “Alright,” you reiterated with a resolute nod.

Daryl sighed, shaking his head as he nudged you forward. “Well, go on an’ get some shit together before I change my mind,” he grunted.

You quickly straightened, imitating a soldier’s stance. “Yes, Chef,” you saluted the archer, breaking the tension.

Daryl narrowed his eyes, shooting you an unamused look. “Shut it,” he rasped — though you noticed his lips twitch up a moment later as he turned on the kitchen sink, picking up one of the dirty dishes.

You stood up on your toes, pressing a soft kiss against the archer’s cheek, the skin where your lips touched tinging pink soon after. “Just give me two minutes,” you said, squeezing his arm as you brushed by him.

Daryl cleared his throat gruffly, caught off guard by the gesture. “M’ countin’!” he called after you.

“Yeah, yeah!” you shouted back, allowing the warmth that filled your chest to carry you the rest of the way down the hall.

Within the hour, you were on the road.

A cool rush of air swept through the passenger side window as you tilted your head back against the headrest and closed your eyes, basking in the sun's gentle rays. The wind danced amongst strands of your tousled hair before settling them back down against your features. Tucking away the freed wisps behind your ears, you opened your eyes, studying the scenery flashing by.

Rows and rows and towering trees lined either side of the long and winding road you found yourself on, a seemingly endless forest just behind it. The car hummed beneath you, passing by long-since abandoned vehicles and scattered debris, continuing to barrel down an otherwise empty highway.

It was strange — there was something somewhat comforting, something sort of nostalgic about being back on the road. Like a glimpse into another lifetime.

“— and I swear, this dude was like, six feet tall. He was one of those, you know, typical chauvinistic pricks, thinking every woman he meets at a bar wants to have sex with him,” Tara’s voice rang from the backseat, drawing you from your reverie. “But you should’ve seen the look on his face when I knocked him on his ass — priceless,” she jeered, an air of pride in her tone.

You shifted in the passenger seat, the corner of your mouth quirking up as you looked back at her. “So, is that when you realized you wanted to join the police academy?” you asked curiously.

“No,” Tara shook her head, a smirk toying at her lips as she crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back. “That’s when I realized I like women.”

A laugh bubbled out of you at her response, Tara’s smile simply widening as she shrugged unabashedly, picking up the map splayed out across her lap. As your laughter died down, you started turning to face forward — though you’d only made it halfway when Daryl caught your eye.

The archer sat in the driver’s seat, one hand resting casually on top of the steering wheel, the other propped up against the door. His window was rolled down, the breeze from outside stirring the hair that hung just above his eyes. But what grabbed your attention were his eyes, glinting ocean blue as he glanced over at you, the corner of his mouth faintly lifting.

God, the way he looked at you…

You fought back a smile as you faced forward, wondering what you could’ve possibly done in your life to deserve to be looked at like that. The feeling you’d shoved away earlier at breakfast came rushing back, setting your senses ablaze as you worked on controlling your thrumming pulse.

You loved him.

A heaviness grew in the pit of your stomach as you squeezed your eyes shut.

Fuck.

“Here’s the turn,” Tara’s voice interrupted your spiraling thoughts.

The motel came into view, set back behind a mass of trees, partially hidden from the main road. The car jostled side to side as Daryl drove it down the gravel driveway, leading to the complex. There was a handful of abandoned cars parked sporadically throughout the small parking lot, some trash and debris littering the area, and four lone walkers ambling aimlessly.

Daryl pulled the car off to the side, parking it near the trees and out of sight from the main road, the engine drawing the dead’s attention. “I got ‘em,” he rasped, unsheathing his hunting knife and sliding out of the car in one swift motion.

Your lip quirked up as you watched him dispose of the dead, as quickly and effortlessly as breathing — he’d been made for this world, you were sure of it.

“You coming?” Tara’s voice broke through your thoughts once more, the hint of a mischievous smile ghosting over her features — she’d clearly been watching you ogle at the archer.

You felt your cheeks flush at the scrutiny. “Mhm, yep,” you nodded quickly, shaking away the embarrassment and climbing out of the car.

Daryl crossed back towards you, wiping the walker blood from the blade of his knife onto his jeans and flicking the hair from his face.

“Show-off,” Tara smirked, adjusting the straps of her backpack as she passed him, heading towards the stretch of rooms just ahead.

The archer simply scoffed a breath, rolling his eyes, though you spotted the hint of amusement in his gaze as he waited for you to catch up.

“It’s so weird seeing you without your crossbow,” you remarked, nearing a moment later.

Daryl grunted a breath, swiveling around and falling in step beside you, neither of your momentum’s faltering. “Jus’ wait ’til I find that asshole,” he grumbled, recalling the man he’d met in the woods all those days ago.

“We’ll get you a new one someday,” you smiled, unsheathing your own knife as you approached the motel. “Or you could use the RPG and blow more shit up.”

Daryl snorted a laugh.

“So, how do we wanna do this?” Tara called from up ahead, pausing in front of the center of the strip.

“Room by room?” you suggested, stopping at her side. “One of us can stay on watch, maybe check these other cars for supplies?”

“I got it,” Daryl offered with a nod, re-holstering his gun. “I’ll see if I can get any a’ these guys up an’ runnin’, bring ‘em back home.”

“There’s also an empty gas canister in the trunk,” Tara motioned towards their car. “Salvage what you can,” she shrugged before turning on her heel and heading towards the first room.

You moved to follow, only stopping when Daryl reached out and grabbed your wrist. You turned, spotting the worry in his gaze he tried to hide. “Ya be careful, ya hear me?” he rasped, sliding his grip down and squeezing your hand softly.

“I will,” you nodded, squeezing back, feeling your heartbeat pick up a fraction.

God, you loved him.

The three of you moved quietly and efficiently — you and Tara swept through each room, working your way down the entire motel strip while Daryl picked through the parking lot. The building had been left practically untouched — and besides the supplies you’d managed to scavenge from the motel itself, you’d even found luggage and suitcases left behind by guests who’d apparently vacated in a hurry.

By the time you'd made it halfway down the strip, the packs you brought had been filled to the brim.

“Holy shit-balls, this place is a goldmine,” Tara huffed, tossing her backpack down beside yours in the trunk of your car.

You let out a laugh in disbelief. “I can’t believe it,” you shook your head before scanning the parking lot for Daryl — you spotted him hunched over the hood of a car, his hands buried in the engine, tinkering around. “We should use some of the suitcases we found for the rest of the stuff,” you continued, focusing back on Tara.

“Cool beans,” she shot you a thumbs-up before motioning towards the center of the strip. “Wanna check out the front office before we hit the other half?”

“Sure,” you nodded, slamming the truck shut and falling in step with her as the two of you headed back towards the motel.

When you felt someone watching, you glanced over your shoulder, catching Daryl’s eye — his furrowed brow softened, the corner of his mouth twitching as you sent him a wink and turned back around.

God damn it, you loved him.

Dividing either side of the motel strip was the front office, built just beyond a large swimming pool. There was a tarp draped across the pool, covering most of the swampy green water, though debris floated around the murky edges. Your nose scrunched up as you passed, a funky smell wafting from the mucky water.

“Gross,” you mumbled, mostly to yourself before you glanced over at Tara. “So, you and Denise, huh?” you asked curiously, waggling your eyebrows.

Tara huffed a breath, but you didn’t miss the blush creeping over her cheeks. “I could say the same about you and Dixon,” she shot back, fighting off a smirk.

You rolled your eyes despite the laugh that bubbled out of you. “Oh, come on —”

The rest of your sentence died away, falling from your lips when a sudden growl sounded, breaking the otherwise silent air. You stopped short, Tara halting just beside you. Your breath caught in your throat as you strained your ears, listening for where the noise had come from.

Sure enough, a moment later, a lone walker stumbled into view, coming out from behind the front office.

You let out the breath you’d been holding, feeling Tara do the same. “Hang on, I got it,” you motioned for her to stay put as you jogged ahead, pulling your knife from the holster around your waist. You braced your arm against the biter’s throat, plunging the blade of your knife into its skull in one, swift motion before it dropped at your feet.

But just before you turned to head back, you heard it again — snarling.

Except for this time, it wasn’t just one.

Your stomach dropped as a small herd, about a dozen dead ones, suddenly rounded the corner behind the office, their sights set on you.

“Oh fuck,” you swore, stumbling backward, vaguely aware of Tara yelling your name. But when you spun around, you realized that she too was no longer alone. “Look out!” you shouted, motioning to the two additional walkers quickly approaching from behind her.

As she turned away from you, fighting off the dead that’d snuck up on her, you took off into a sprint, putting some distance between you and the horde.

Tara stabbed her knife into the temple of the first, though the second was on her just as soon. It gripped its fingers around her forearm, pulling her flesh closer and closer towards its snapping jaw…

Just before it could sink its teeth into her skin, you managed to grab it, twisting a fistful of its hair around your fingers and yanking its head backward. You drove your blade through its decaying forehead, stilling it instantly.

But as its grasp slipped away from around Tara’s arm, the walker’s deadweight, in turn, collapsed against you.

You lost your footing and fell backward.

Except the solidity of concrete never rushed up to meet you.

Instead, you were embraced by water, the tarp that’d laid across the motel pool coiling around your body as you sunk deeper and deeper into nothingness.

A/N: EEEEEEK! Y'all know me and how much I love cliffhangers :)

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