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magicshopaholic · 2 years ago

Text

Seoul (Namjoon x OC)

Summary: You and Namjoon meet in Seoul again, this time as exes.

Pairing: Namjoon x OC

Genre: Fluff, angst

Word count: 13.8 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language, break-up, talk about parental issues, stress, infidelity, kissing

A/N: So... this got a little longer than expected. Some questions will be asked, many will be answered. A lot of holiday cheer and pretty Christmas lighting. But the best part about this fic has to be the fact that I haven't proofread it.

Set approximately nine months after Next Time but can be read standalone.

Tagging: @bbl32, @meirkive, @quarter-life-crisis2, @kflixnet (if you want to be added to the taglist, lmk)

Listen to: “ghost” by parekh & singh

namjoon masterlist | main masterlist

The last cloud floats away, and the sun peeks out apologetically. Bathed in light, the landscape looks like a colourful painting - a blue sky with a hint of purple, the edge of a green hill cutting it at an angle, and a winding road finishing it off. Visible in between two parallel rows of buildings, it feels like a glimpse of summer on a cold winter morning.

Kaya raises her phone to click a picture, ignoring her frozen fingers. This is Instagram-worthy, she decides - story only, even though she rarely posts anything else. She considers a caption for a brief moment, but it feels almost cruel to disturb the picture.

Over an hour later, when she’s in the car on her way home, her phone pings and she sees a reply to her story.

artisfolly [12:45] You’re in Seoul?

Kaya’s heart skips a beat. She suddenly realises why she’d felt the need to take a picture of that particular hill and it’s no surprise that he’s recognised it, too. His question is unexpected, though, and she can think of nothing to say but the obvious.

kaya_m [12:46] Yeah.

artisfolly [12:47] Why didn’t you tell me?

She stares at the screen, at a rare loss for words. She can’t fathom why he would ask her this, and the fact that they’re speaking to each other for the first time in nearly three months reduces her to simple honesty.

kaya_m [12:50] I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me.

A beat passes. Kaya realises only a moment later how tightly she’s clutching her phone and forces her fingers to loosen up.

artisfolly [12:51] I always want to hear from you.

Another beat. Then –

artisfolly [12:51] Can we meet for coffee?

—

The city is already lit up and ready for the holidays. There’s the faint sound of instrumental carols from somewhere down the street as people enter and exit shops in a flurry, all bundled up in fashionable winter wear.

Namjoon still isn’t entirely sure why he picked this place to meet up. Gangnam just made sense because it was reasonably close by, but it’s also busy - it makes him feel less exposed somehow, although he isn’t fully sure what he’s trying to stay hidden from.

He glances at the menu of the coffee cart as he waits for her. Again, it wasn’t what he’d had in mind when he’d proposed to meet up for coffee, but his mind had gone blank when he’d tried to think of a place. For some reason, all he could think about was this small cart and the fact that it had a hazelnut drink. Around two hours ago, after nearly a whole day of thinking, he’d realised he couldn’t put it off anymore and texted Kaya with the location of the department store next door.

Namjoon exhaled, trying to ignore the low hum of anxiety in his stomach. A lot had happened in the last couple of days: a new track had been submitted for approval, their appearance at the AMAs in January was under review, he had a package that was currently stuck in customs - and then he’d found out his ex-girlfriend was back in Seoul. The anxiety is warranted, he decides.

It’s a few minutes past four pm when his phone buzzes. He feels a jolt in his stomach as he answers. “Hey.”

“Hey. I, uh… I think I’m at the location…” Kaya trails off, sounding unsure. “I can’t see Aldo, though.”

Namjoon swallows; the last time they’d spoken on the phone, she’d sounded very different. His heart skips an uncomfortable beat when he thinks about it.

“Oh.” He clears his throat. “Um, where are you right now?”

“I’m at…” She trails off again, and he pictures her looking around, eyes big and upward. “Okay, I just passed Zara.”

“Okay, just keep walking straight,” he tells her, turning to face the direction he knows she’s coming from. “You’ll see an auditorium kind of thing on your left -“

“There’s just a turn here.

“Yeah, no, you’ll have to cross the street. Be careful,” he adds automatically when he hears a car horn at her end.

She says nothing to that but stays on the line. “Okay, I think I see the auditorium… is that an auditorium?”

“Kind of, I guess. Street musicians, up and comers perform there and stuff.”

“That’s nice. Did you?”

“Still a stage I have yet to conquer. Can you see me?”

“Not yet. It’s pretty crowded. Is there an inflatable Santa near you?”

Namjoon turns slightly on the spot. “There’s a 3D Santa cut-out, if that’s what you’re referring to. There’s, like, three of them, though.” He bites back an unexpected chuckle when she swears under her breath. “Try to look for a banner with the directions to Santa’s Village.”

He can hear her stop in her tracks. “A banner? Everything’s written in Hangul, Joon. Oh, hang on, I think I see shoes - it might be Aldo…”

Namjoon nods wordlessly, trying to ignore his heart racing. He tries to look over the heads of the people on the street, hoping no one recognises him as he looks for Kaya - and spots her. She looks… exactly the same, or more beautiful than every single person in Gangnam put together. Probably both.

He can hear her murmuring on the phone, trying to look for him as well, but he can barely make out what she’s saying. He’s reminded, inexplicably, of the last time he’d seen a similar sight: London, almost two years ago. They weren’t dating yet, and he’d waited for her by the entrance of his hotel as she arrived from the station. He’d spotted her just like this in the crowd, albeit much later in the night. The moment she’d seen him, her face had broken out into a happy smile, complete with Disney princess eyes, and he’d asked her flat out to be with him two minutes later.

It’s a bittersweet memory. Namjoon blinks rapidly a few times before clearing his throat. “I can see you,” he says, hearing how low his own voice is all of a sudden. He raises his arm halfway. “I’m here. Right in front of you.”

He registers the moment Kaya sees him. Her mouth stops moving mid-word and she halts for a moment before exhaling slightly and giving him a small, polite smile. They lower their phones at the same time and Kaya continues walking towards him, dropping hers into the small sling bag hanging from her shoulder. He notices her gaze travel up and down his figure before lingering on his chest, and he’s suddenly glad he chose the turtleneck at the last minute.

“It’s cold,” she says when she finally reaches him, rubbing her hands together and shivering slightly.

He nods, feeling his heart leap unnecessarily. “It’ll get colder,” he informs her. “You look nice,” he says after a moment.

“Thanks. So do you.”

There’s an awkward moment of silence before she exhales. “So this is the coffee place,” she states, looking up at the lit up cart, at the fairy lights, the menu written in both English and Korean - anywhere but him, he notes.

“Oh - uh, yeah.” He shakes his head. “You should - we should order,” he stutters, fumbling with his wallet as he fishes it out. “Sorry, I know you probably weren’t expecting this, but I couldn’t decide -”

“No, no, it’s totally fine,” she says immediately, the silver hoops in her ears glinting as she shakes her head. “This is nice. I’ll have the hazelnut, I think,” she adds, retrieving her own wallet. “Uh, one hazelnut,” she repeats to the barista, enunciating a bit and holding up a finger before turning to Namjoon.

“Oh, right. One caramel macchiato,” he adds in Korean. He pulls out two bills and is about to place them on the counter when Kaya beats him to it. “Oh, I was going to -”

“That’s alright,” she interrupts, glancing up at him with a stiff smile as though to let him know it’s still good-natured. “I can pay for my own coffee.”

They don’t say much else until two steaming lattes are placed on the counter, smelling warm and cozy. They pick up their drinks, and Namjoon is suddenly faced with the consequences of choosing an establishment with no designated seating area.

“Um…” He looks around, starting to feel a bit silly, before looking back down at her and sighing. “Do you want to walk?” he asks finally.

She seems to have already expected this. With a glint of amusement in her eyes, she nods. “Sure.”

They begin strolling down the sidewalk in Gangnam square. The place is busy and most people are bundled up, meaning it’s one of those rare occasions when Namjoon is likely to make it through unrecognised. He tenses up for a moment when he thinks about the fact that he isn’t alone, but then remembers he has no business caring about that anymore.

“So… how’ve you been?”

Namjoon looks up, wondering where to begin. He isn’t sure how much of his post break-up state is appropriate to reveal, and if she even wants to know. He can talk about work… but even that could be a delicate topic, given recent events.

“Not great,” he says finally, surprised at his own honesty. “You?”

She shrugs, once again not meeting his eyes. “About the same.”

He bites his lip. The distance between them, while expected, feels awful - and wrong. Namjoon takes a brave step closer to her. “How did the seminar go? The second one was in October, right?”

Kaya pauses for a fraction of a second before nodding, and Namjoon knows she’s caught the deliberate tone in the question. He doesn’t regret it, though. Forgetting the first one was bad enough; the guilt that had washed over him when he’d realised he’d missed an academic milestone in her life had been one of the last straws for him.

“It wasn’t bad,” she says, taking a small sip of her drink and cracking a smile. “Went better than the first one. But I got to design the lecture series at the end so I guess it worked out.”

“That’s great,” he replies, meaning it. She seems taller, the top of her head almost reaching his cheek. He looks down to see her boots, long and straight up her legs… swallowing, he looks away. “You didn’t sound so good about the - about the last one,” he adds quickly, wincing a moment later.

“Yeah. That one was… way worse.” Kaya doesn’t say anymore, taking another sip instead. “Coffee’s good.”

“Yeah. We got a bunch of these delivered to the studio about a week ago. Thought you might like it.”

“Right.” She nods. “How, uh, how is the studio? And the collabs?” she tacks on at the end.

Namjoon feels his stomach twist again, his eyes falling to his cup at the mention of what was probably the breaking point of their relationship. Hwasa, Sunmi and IU. In the aftermath of their break-up, it had become increasingly clear to him that this was the core of the issue and yet, it seemed like the one thing they avoided talking about.

Kaya seems to remember, too. “Sorry… I didn’t mean to make it weird,” she mutters.

He shakes his head. “You didn’t. Don’t worry.”

She bites her lip. “I was genuinely asking. You were working pretty hard.”

I’m working hard, too. And not just at my job.

“They’re in post production now,” he answers as they turn into a quieter street. “Except for one. It came out last month.”

“Oh, really? That’s - that’s great. Must be doing well.”

“It’s doing fine. Just finished promoting it earlier this week.”

“So does that mean you have Christmas off?” Kaya raises her eyebrows. “Must be doing really well.”

Namjoon chuckles. “Yeah, I don’t want to jinx it. I’m going over to my parents’ house tomorrow night. I’ll probably stay there for a few days.”

Their coffees are almost done now; as the sky darkens, they throw their empty cups into a trash can by the sidewalk and continue walking. Namjoon shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket, glad for the momentary warmth.

“God, it’s colder than usual,” he mutters. “You know what it reminds me of, though?”

She looks up at him with the first genuine smile of the evening. “London?”

Fucking hell. “Yeah, exactly. Except there it was cold and wet.” He shudders. “I don’t know how you made it all the way from the station with a suitcase in that weather.”

Kaya shrugs. “It wasn’t so bad. The hot shower after really helped,” she adds absently.

It’s not super high up in the list of things Namjoon wants to be reminded of right now, the image of her in his shower. What’s up, boyfriend? she’d greeted him when she’d stepped out, wrapped in a towel, her wet hair swept over one shoulder. The memory makes him smile involuntarily.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.” He straightens his face. “I read that Sean Scully was touring Europe again. Did you get to go?”

She sighs hugely and groans. “No, work piled up way too much. But, I found out he was going to be in Belgium and he was putting up some of his figurations on sale,” she says, shaking her head already, “and I started saving up - and I mean saving up. And two months later, the sale happened, and the painting was nowhere to be seen.”

“Wow. You know, some of his stuff is in the National Gallery here, too,” he says, pointing generically behind him. “We can - I mean, you should check it out… if you have time,” he adds lamely.

“Yeah, probably. I’ve been checking out more indie stuff lately, though - but, yeah, maybe.”

“Oh, is that why you were in Hongdae yesterday?”

“Yesterday? No, I was there to see a play.”

Namjoon frowns. “In English?”

“Nope.”

He bites his lip, trying not to laugh, but gives up a moment later. “Are you serious?”

“Shut up,” she mutters, looking adorably embarrassed and nudging him with her elbow. “Jae-lin wanted me to come along.”

Ah. “And there was no way you could say no to her,” he finishes in understanding.

“Exactly. Even the best of us have some weak spots.” She peers at something across from him on the other side of the street. “Hey, is that an ATM?” She stops and looks up at him. “Do you mind? I just need to -”

“No, go ahead. I’ll grab a bottle of water.” He watches her jog across the empty street and enter the vestibule before he ducks into the convenience store behind him. It’s easier than he’d expected, being around her - except for the part where he wishes he could forget for a moment that they aren’t together anymore.

As he wordlessly passes the bottle to the cashier, he wonders for what feels like the millionth time in the last three months if this was the right decision. It had felt like it at the time. The snapping and the fighting was becoming more frequent than before, but at least that was mutual. Disappointing her each time was too much, though, and before he knew it, he was doing the one thing to ensure he didn’t hurt her anymore.

“Thank you,” he mutters to the shopkeeper and exits the shop. The cold air hits him again and it feels as though the sky has gotten several shades darker in the last few minutes. His eyes go straight to the ATM, noting two or three more people apparently in line, before he spots Kaya among them. Her uncertain expression, ducked head and hunched shoulders tell him everything he needs to know, and all thoughts of their break-up disappear in an instant.

Striding over, Namjoon registers three other men, two behind her, seemingly chuckling at something the third is saying to Kaya. It’s clear she isn’t able to understand him, but his proximity to her is enough for Namjoon to automatically feel his pulse race in annoyance.

“Which - country?” The third guy says in English, louder and more deliberate. Before Kaya can answer, Namjoon reaches over and wraps his hand around her wrist, gently tugging her out of there. The relief in her face is brief but evident, and she immediately falls into step beside him as they walk away.

“You alright?” he asks in a low voice, dropping her wrist but staying close to her. “Do you have your wallet and everything?”

She nods and exhales, her arm brushing his shoulder. “Yeah,” she murmurs, her voice shaking slightly. “Thanks.” She doesn’t move away from him, not until they turn into a busier street. It’s more brightly lit, with Christmas decorations and fake snow everywhere, and Namjoon can’t help but feel sorry when she finally takes a step to her right and the familiar scent of coconut and vanilla disappears.

They don’t speak again for a while but unlike when they’d initially met at the coffee cart, Namjoon doesn’t feel pressured to make conversation. Some kind of ice between them seems to have broken and he suddenly feels a lot more secure in the fact that she’s here with him, that they’re here together.

“Oh, my God!” Kaya gasps suddenly, halting in her tracks and clutching his arm, and for a moment Namjoon thinks the creepy men are back.

“What?” he asks hurriedly, looking around and automatically stepping closer to her.

She doesn’t seem to notice. “What - the hell - is that?” she stutters, pointing shakily at something in front of her. Namjoon follows her finger, expecting danger, only to find something even more terrifying.

“Oh,” he exhales, running a hand through his hair awkwardly. He wracks his brain for an appropriate explanation but soon gives. “That’s… yeah, that’s a cardboard cut-out of Taehyung.”

Kaya looks up at him incredulously. “It - what?” She turns back to the six foot tall cut-out of Taehyung in a suit, smirking and making a finger heart, before she looks behind it to see the rest of it.

“Okay, Namjoon, there’s no easy way to ask this,” she begins, taking a step back, “but why is there a shrine to Taehyung in the middle of Seoul?”

Namjoon chuckles, a little embarrassed. “It’s his birthday in a week, so… they do this every year. Birthdays are a big deal around here,” he adds, following her as she gingerly continues down the aforementioned shrine.

“No, I get that,” she says slowly, lightly touching a fringe of sparkly streamers bordering a photo booth. “This is just…” She trails off, looking up at the fake snow and candy canes decorating a line of photo cards and smaller cardboard cut-outs.

“A lot, I know.”

“Kind of sweet,” she finishes. “You know, once you get used to it.” She stops at a wall-sized poster of the entire group, a shot from their last concert in the summer. Namjoon isn’t sure, but he thinks her gaze is lingering on him in the corner, hair a lighter blond than it is now.

My man looks so fucking sexy in a suit.

“What about you?”

It takes Namjoon a moment to focus. “Uh, what about me?”

“Does this happen for everyone’s birthday?” She raises her eyebrows playfully. “Was there a life-size Kim Namjoon here, too?”

“God, no,” he says, shuddering a bit. “Although there is a graffiti drawing of my face back in Ilsan. It’s actually pretty good!” he exclaims when she laughs, feeling his cheeks grow warm. “I’ve only seen pictures, anyway. I guess I’ll see it when I go back tomorrow.”

“Spend some good old quality time with it?”

“Not that much time. Our schedule starts on the…” He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to recall. “Twenty-eighth, I think. Need to double check that.” He opens his eyes to see Kaya frowning.

“You’re working on New Year’s?”

“Yeah,” he says, shrugging. “New Year’s Eve special in New York. Holidays, birthdays… doesn’t really matter,” he adds, hearing a note of bitterness in his own voice. He stops by a pop-up stall. “Honestly, it’s a miracle we got Christmas off.”

Kaya stops beside him, facing him slightly. “I’m sorry,” she says after a moment. “About your birthday. I didn’t forget,” she clarifies when he looks up. “I thought about texting or something, but… it was just too soon.”

Namjoon nods, feeling his heart clench a little. That hadn’t been a good day. “I get it. It was less than a week after… everything.”

“Yeah. Didn’t think you’d be working, though.”

“I didn’t mind. Kept me occupied.”

She bites her lip, glancing over at the collectibles. Namjoon watches her, recalling with a heavy heart just how much he’d been hoping she’d call. It hadn’t been fair to expect it, given that he’d ended things just a few days prior. He’d tried to do it as amicably as possible, tried to reassure her that it had nothing to do with how he felt - it was just a consequence of their situation. Long time coming, he’d said. Despite that, he’d kept his phone on all day, hoping that at least special events would mean he could hear her voice again.

“I did… wait,” he confesses after a moment. “I thought we ended on good terms.”

Kaya exhales, and he can see her defenses go up. “We did. That’s why we’re here right now.”

“Three months later.”

“Yeah, well. I needed time to process it,” she counters, folding her arms across her chest. “You really caught me off guard.”

Namjoon lowers his head, unsurprised at her astute observation. He had caught her off guard - and not accidentally. He can still remember the rain in the background, the sound of the people around her as he revealed what he’d been thinking for a few days by then. Most of all, he can remember how confused she’d sounded. That had been the worst part: her confusion. Sadness, anger, denial; he would’ve chosen all of them over her uncertainty, how she’d taken a few minutes to realise what he was proposing, by which time it was too late to argue.

“I wouldn’t have been able to go through it otherwise,” he confesses quietly.

After what seems like several minutes, Kaya sighs. “Well. In the spirit of processing things,” she begins, and he looks up to see her reaching for one of the small stuffed toys on the cart, “a belated happy birthday.” She hands it to him.

“Thanks. And thank you for…” He looks down at the toy and back up at her. “... for this stuffed doll of Taehyung?”

“A stuffed doll of Taehyung holding a wreath,” she points out, jabbing a finger at the plastic decoration. “And wearing a Santa hat.”

“Wow. This is, uh…” He looks back at the doll, stitched down to immaculate detail. “... so terrifying.”

Kaya laughs. “What are you talking about? He’s a good-looking kid.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want a voodoo doll of him staring at me while I’m, like, changing or something.”

“Well, that’s your punishment for breaking up with me while I was running late to class,” she says lightly, already handing cash to the shopkeeper.

“Fair enough,” he mutters, stuffing the silly doll deep into the pocket of his jacket as they begin walking away.

“So?” she continues as they stroll down the street. “How are the other guys?”

“Good, mostly. Pretty tired.”

“And your parents? Your family and everyone?”

“Also good.” He pauses. “My mom asked about you.”

“She did?” Kaya sounds surprised.

“Yeah,” he answers, nodding. “Nothing specific. Just how you were doing and stuff.”

She’s quiet for a moment, hands tucked into her elbows. “You didn’t tell her?”

“Not yet.” Namjoon bites his lip, realising only at this moment, that it’s because he was hoping he wouldn’t have to at all. “Guess I’ll have to, soon enough.”

“Believe it or not, it was hard to tell my mom, too.” She squeezes his forearm sympathetically. “Although, if I’m being honest, the hardest person to break it to was Jae-lin,” she adds.

He snickers. “Really?”

“Yup. And not to pressure you or anything, but she’s expecting some seriously deep music to drop soon.”

His heart jolts uncomfortably. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

When he says no more, he notices Kaya give him a curious sideways glance. “And speaking of my sixteen year old cousin’s obsessions,” she begins, the forced upward lilt in her voice evident, “what about Taehyung and Dilara Komyshan?”

“Oh, who knows with them,” he replies absently, stretching out his neck before looking back down to see her raised eyebrows. “No, they’re dating now. Officially.”

“Wow. Score. For Tae, I mean,” she clarifies.

“I agree. They went on some trip or something recently.”

“Ah, the honeymoon phase,” she says knowingly, shaking her head. “Children.”

“He’s happy now. And I mean too happy,” grumbles Namjoon. “He’s smiling into his phone all the time like an idiot; I swear, he looks high.”

Kaya snorts. “Wow, single people really are bitter.” When he doesn’t respond, she looks up, biting her lip awkwardly. “Too weird?”

He winces theatrically. “A little bit.”

She chuckles. “Sorry.”

They stop at a traffic light, waiting to cross the street. The sky is dark now, but the area has never looked more lively. Namjoon is suddenly glad he asked her to meet today; the closer Seoul gets to Christmas, the prettier it looks.

Which reminds him.

He glances at her beside him; they’re both standing tilted towards each other, almost automatically. To anyone else, it might look like they’re midway in conversation.

“By the way,” he begins, shifting to face her. She does the same, her silver hoops catching the light again. Namjoon pauses; there’s a certain science to this, a certain combination of elements that will get him the reaction he wants - or at least the one he’s hoping for.

“Yeah?”

Hands deep in his pockets, he lowers his head slightly to look her in the eyes. Disney princess eyes. His blond hair falls onto his forehead and he gives her a small smile, just enough for a dimple to appear. His gaze drops to her mouth before meeting her eyes again.

“You look really pretty,” he says, meaning it, hearing his voice low and deep. The flicker in her eyes makes his heart race, but he holds it, waiting for her response.

“Thanks. You look…” Kaya swallows visibly and her gaze falls, lingering near his chest for a moment. Thank God for the damn turtleneck. Namjoon is almost anxious at how she’ll finish her sentence.

“... really pretty, too.”

“Huh.” He nods. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” She pauses, clearly awkward. “The blond suits you,” she adds, reaching up as if to touch his hair but stopping herself at the last moment.

“Yeah, it’s, uh… the stylists like it,” he replies lamely, running his fingers through his long hair.

“They’re doing a good job, I guess. You’re looking thinner,” she murmurs, her eyes on his chest and shoulders before they dart up to him. “Not in a bad way,” she says quickly. “Or - or a good way. I was just… it was just an observation.” She shakes her head. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“It’s okay,” he says simply, placing a light hand on her back as they cross the road. “I haven’t had a lot of time to hit the gym lately. I’ve lost a bit of muscle mass. What about you?” he asks after a moment, feeling his gaze drop to her hips as she walks a step ahead of him, before averting them with an effort.

She turns around and waits for him to catch up, raising her eyebrows. “Am I losing muscle mass?”

“No, are you… you know. Taking care of yourself and everything,” he clarifies. “Eating well, locking your door… that stuff.”

She laughs without humour. “Remember when I told you I was saving up for that Sean Scully painting? Yeah, that means two whole months of nothing but instant noodles.”

Namjoon stares at her, unamused, until she looks up at him. “Are you serious right now?”

Kaya raises her eyebrows. “Are you? Do you seriously think you get to lecture me on a healthy diet?”

“God, I hate it when you have a point.”

“Which is often,” she says fairly, nudging his shoulder playfully. She looks around then, frowning slightly. “Wait, I thought we were going to your car. How far away did you park it?”

“Not that far, actually. There’s a shorter route through the alleys inside,” he explains. “I just thought you might… feel safer this way. Out in the open.”

He wonders for a moment if he’s made it weird again, for he can’t decipher Kaya’s expression. She licks her lips and looks at the ground, but before he can begin getting anxious about it, she looks up.

“I always feel safe with you,” she says calmly, gesturing for him to start walking again.

As he falls into step beside her, Namjoon feels, for the first time all evening, as though he finally knows what he wants. He sees her hand by her side as she walks, half-covered by the sleeve of her dark striped sweater, her nails painted black.

He imagines what it would be like to hold it; lightly at first, fingers grazing her palm before linking their fingers together. Holding it tight then, tugging her closer to him, feeling her long hair brush his chest… for a moment, Namjoon feels like crying.

“Wow, I didn’t realise how hungry I was.”

Kaya breaks him out of his reverie, and he looks up to see her peering at a passing tteokbeoki stall.

“Do you want to get some?” he asks, although he can’t imagine eating anything right now.

She waves her hand. “No, I’m good. Ji-eun’s making dinner and she’ll kill me if I ruin it.”

“Yeah? What’s she making?”

“Not sure. Something with noodles.”

Namjoon laughs. “Sounds about right. She may have grown up in America but she’s Korean at heart.”

“Completely.” Kaya shivers as a cold wind blows. “And Korean by blood, clearly, because there is no way winters back home were this cold.”

“Yeah, the winds are a bit harsh,” he acknowledges fairly. “Why did you decide to visit in the winter anyway? There’s a reason tourism is at an all-time low this time of the year.”

“Oh… my mom wanted to visit. Said she wanted to spend Christmas with family.”

There’s something off in Kaya’s tone, but Namjoon doesn’t want to pry. Not too blatantly, at least.

“Don’t you usually go to Connecticut to spend Christmas with her?” he asks.

“Yeah.” She nods, falling quiet for a few seconds. “She’s dating this guy,” she blurts out. “And they’ve been going out for a few months and it sounded like everything was fine, but I think - and I’m pretty sure I’m right - that he asked her to spend Christmas with his family. And it freaked her out,” she finishes, breathing slightly heavily.

Namjoon doesn’t say anything for a moment. From the way the words tumbled out of her mouth, it’s clear she’s been waiting to talk about it.

“Is it the dating part?” he asks gently.

“No,” she mumbles, looking at the ground as she steps within the tiles. “My dad’s been gone ten years, you know? I’m glad she’s dating. But when she does things like this, I know it’s because she’s scared. And I just wish she wasn’t.”

He frowns. “Did she actually tell you about him asking her to come over for Christmas?”

She opens her mouth but deflates. “Not exactly,” she admits. “But I know I’m right. The way she sounded, the words she used - she was avoiding talking about it.”

Like mother, like daughter. “Why don’t you just ask her?” he suggests. “You and your mom are close, aren’t you?”

She bites her lip and shakes her head. “I can’t tell her what to do. It’s not up to me to tell her how to move on from her dead husband.”

Namjoon touches her elbow, wishing he could do so much more. “I didn’t say to tell her anything. I said you could ask her. She knows you just want her to be happy, right?”

Kaya swallows, stopping as the parking lot comes into sight. “And then what? We talk about it? Because I’m such an expert on how to be happy?”

There’s a moment of heartbreaking silence before she looks up and blinks. “Shit. Sorry. I didn’t mean to dump all this on you.”

He frowns. “It’s okay -“

“No, it’s not. This isn’t your problem anymore, and we don’t -“

“Kaya.” He gives her a look when she stops talking abruptly. “You know, I didn’t intend for… this to mean that we cut each other out of our lives. You can still talk to me,” he says earnestly. He sighs and looks at his feet. “I know there are still things that I can't talk about with anyone but you,” he admits quietly.

He watches her expression change from confusion to curiosity, and then to a kind of concern. Her shoulder makes a movement and he wonders wildly, hopefully, if she meant to reach for him.

“Like what?” she asks softly.

Now that she’s asked, the words seem impossible to say. Namjoon looks down at his hands, feeling months worth of anxiety creep in again.

“I think I’m losing my touch,” he says finally, still not looking up at her. “With songwriting, producing… everything. I’m not… I can’t…” He trails off, wincing in irritation as he struggles to recall English words for his exact emotions. “I can’t write anymore. And the more I can’t… the more I have no idea who I am anymore.”

From the corner of his eye, he sees Kaya watching him closely, her forehead in a frown. “Why?”

“I don’t know. The words just aren’t coming. The music… I can’t hear it in my head the same -“

“No, I meant,” she interrupts him, and gives him an apologetic look when he meets her eyes again. “I meant… why don’t you know who you are anymore?”

“Because if I’m in the studio for hours and hours and I can’t actually… produce anything, or create anything, then what the hell am I doing in there?” If I’m in the studio for hours and hours, what does it all matter if I don’t have you?

“Joon…” She takes a step closer to him. “You’re… it’s recency bias. You’ve been producing great stuff all year. Didn’t BTS just win, like, five awards at the MAMAs?”

“Yeah, but not for anything I wrote,” he counters immediately. “And that’s fine. We always win for the popular hits, and that’s fine with me. I just… I can’t write anymore,” he says in a small voice. “The words aren’t coming.”

Her eyes flicker, as though searching for the right words. He knows it’s far out of left field for her, that a lot of his work is something she can’t contribute a lot to, choosing to primarily listen.

“Well…” She sounds a bit uncertain. “What did you write about before?”

He shrugs, looking away. “Just stuff. Things that made me happy, things that made me sad.”

“And you don’t have those things anymore?”

Namjoon doesn’t know how much clearer he can make it without risking losing even the last remaining fragments of her in his life. “Not the ones that make me happy,” he states, meeting her gaze.

Somewhere, a Christmas carol begins on a loudspeaker, sleigh bells in the background. Bright lights flicker on, jerking them out of their conversation.

Kaya takes a step back, exhaling shakily. “It’s getting colder,” she mutters. “Is that your car?” she asks, tilting her head towards something behind him. Before he can answer, she begins walking over.

Namjoon follows her slowly, knowing their conversation is over. He waits until he’s a few feet away from the car to open it. She doesn’t enter immediately, though; looking up at him from across the bonnet of his Mercedes, she gives him a small, sad sort of smile.

“I’m glad you messaged me yesterday,” she says softly.

“So am I.” He swallows, his heart sinking at the realisation that their evening is at an end, whether he wants it to be or not. “Come on. Let’s get you home before Jieun kills you.”

—

“And he crosses the finish line,” murmurs Kaya in humour as Namjoon slowly pulls into Jieun’s driveway before stopping the car. There’s teasing in her tone, but also a hint of pride, for he really has come a long way since she’d first started teaching him how to drive two years ago.

He doesn’t look at her, though, choosing to stare out of the windshield with a pensive look on his face - the same one he’s had for the entire drive.

Kaya deflates slightly. “Thanks for the ride.”

“How could I have let you go?”

It’s a whisper, but on a quiet street and inside a crowded car, it feels like he’s shouted it from the rooftops. Kaya says nothing, choosing to stare at her lap instead, for she isn’t altogether surprised. The way he’d begun looking at her as the evening progressed, eyes softer and warmer with each minute, some of the things he’d said; the poet in him might have thought he was being subtle, but Kaya knew him well enough to know where his mind was at.

Namjoon, meanwhile, is still in the midst of his crisis. ��How - how could I have thought that was the right decision? How could you have let me?”

She bristles. “What?”

“No, I’m - I’m not… I’m not actually blaming you,” he stutters, glancing briefly at her, as though just remembering he’s not alone. “I just can’t believe…” He sighs, running a hand over his face. “God, I fucked up.”

When she’d gotten the call three months ago, her first emotion had been surprise. It had been a long time since Namjoon had called her, despite his best efforts to. Their conversations had turned terse and short, with more passive aggressive statements going back and forth than actual talk about their lives.

It had been a busy day and Kaya already had a lot on her mind, so when he’d broken up with her with barely any warning during a busy evening on campus, she’d been furious. Not at first; no, at first she’d been confused, then in denial, then in class, then busy - very busy - until something had finally forced her to face the fact that she’d been dumped over the phone by the love of her life.

He’d said many things, the first being that he loved her. He missed her, cared about her, and hated being a dick to her - so he wasn’t going to do it anymore. Throughout, through all the sadness and heartbreak, her anger at how he’d deliberately chosen a Wednesday evening in Amsterdam time to break up with her was the worst, because he’d more or less ensured that she wouldn’t be able to argue back.

I wouldn’t have been able to go through with it otherwise.

It’s probably true, and Kaya remembers being annoyed by it even a couple of hours ago. Now, though, surprisingly, she finds herself wanting to comfort him.

“Namjoon -”

“No, you know what?” He interrupts her. “I know I was wrong. I know I was too busy and I wasn’t making the time, and I was taking out my stress on you, but -” He shakes his head, and she realises he’s glaring at her. “You weren’t being honest about what was really bothering you.”

She raises her eyebrows. “I - what?”

He gives her a look, indicating he isn’t fooled. “You know what I’m talking about, Kaya.”

“No, I don’t. And… we don’t need to talk about this,” she mutters hurriedly, unbuckling her seatbelt when he grabs her wrist.

“Wait, come on,” he says quickly, stopping her. “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to start a fight. Or maybe I am,” he says after a moment. “If that’s what it’ll take to finally talk about this.”

Kaya hesitates. “You talk about this stuff when you’re together,” she reminds him in a low voice. “And we’re not together.”

“I know.” He gives her a long look, almost pleading, before speaking again, slower and more deliberate. “I’m saying… I want to talk about it.”

“Fine,” she says finally, sitting back in her seat. “Go ahead.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Me?”

“Yes. You’re the one who wants to talk about it.”

“No, I want you to admit what was really bothering you,” he corrects her, giving her a knowing look.

She frowns, puzzled, even as her heart begins to race uncomfortably. “What are you talking about? We were apart, there was distance… wasn’t that the whole problem?”

“That’s a pretty macro way to look at it.” When she gives him a look, he nods, satisfied. “That’s right. I didn’t date an Economics research student for a year and half and not learn a few words along the way.”

Kaya’s mouth twists as she tries to suppress a smile. “No way. You’re not allowed to make me laugh right now.” When he raises his hands in apology and gestures for her to continue, his dimple still faintly visible, she sighs. “Fine. It was… it felt like it was waiting for the other shoe to drop, okay? Long distance is always hard, and we made it last for a really long time.” She shakes her head forlornly. “It was like watching a tornado approach. I guess I just wanted to spare myself the pain of a long, gruesome… demise of a relationship.”

Namjoon folds his arms across his chest. “You’re lying.”

Her eyes widen. “What? What are you - how dare you -”

“Kaya, don’t fuck with me, alright? I can read between the lines - I basically already know what it is, so why don’t you just admit it?”

“I am,” she exclaims defiantly. “I was afraid, we weren’t talking, we were drifting apart - what else is there?”

“Why were you afraid?”

“Why is anyone ever afraid in a relationship, Namjoon?”

“No, why were you afraid - and why did it come up only when I started working on my collabs?”

“Because I was afraid you were going to cheat on me!” Kaya huffs and sinks back into her seat, glaring out the window as she feels the corners of her eyes prickling at the memory.

Neither of them speaks for a few moments. It feels like the invisible wall that’s existed between them all evening has finally been broken down, wrecking ball and all, to leave a pile of cold, hard truths.

“Why didn’t you say something?” he asks finally. He doesn’t sound satisfied; on the contrary, he sounds almost disappointed. It breaks her heart just a little.

“Because it’s humiliating to admit that,” she mutters, still not looking at him. “Because if there was one thing that made us work, it was that neither of us was clingy. But if I started acting insecure just because you were suddenly working long hours with beautiful women, then -” She shrugs, feeling ridiculous. “I was officially a clingy girlfriend.”

“Clingy? Kaya, you’re as far from clingy as a partner can be. We both are - we work crazy hours, we’ve gone days without talking and it never mattered. I could never think you’re a clingy girlfriend. And I would never cheat on you,” he adds firmly.

Something settles in Kaya’s chest. “You know, that’s all I needed to hear?” she says, finally looking up at him. He looks almost wounded, his blond bangs thick and falling onto his forehead. “I didn’t actually think you would go ahead and - and have an affair or anything. I just needed that reassurance - I would’ve believed you in a second. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I wasn’t sure – but I suspected it. And honestly, I was a little insulted,” he adds sullenly, “because I didn’t think I’d ever given you a reason to doubt me.”

The truth of that statement is too painful, enough to make Kaya fall silent. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs abashedly. “I was too proud to say it. It’s just… these things happen. When there’s distance and stress and - and then there’s physical distance… it’s not outlandish to think something could happen. I don’t know how it works with celebrities,” she adds, shrugging heavily. “I just know I see a different story on Just Jared every other day and… well, we’ve already established that I was afraid,” she finishes, not knowing what else to say. “I was being crazy.”

She can feel Namjoon’s gaze on her, but she doesn’t look up until he sighs and touches her hand.

“You weren’t being crazy. I mean, I thought you were,” he amends, giving her a momentary smile, “but… okay, after we broke up, I was in the studio with Sunmi, right? And I must have looked like hell because she asked me if I’d had a fight with my girlfriend. It was too hard to correct her, so I - I didn’t,” he admits, wincing slightly.

“Anyway… then, out of the blue, she told me she had a boyfriend. And then a minute after that, she told me wasn’t bragging, but she was making it clear that nothing could happen between us. And then I was, like, what? and she said that in her experience, whenever two people had problems with their partners, they ended up hooking up. And she had no intention of doing so with me while we were both in committed relationships,” he finishes, shaking his head a bit. “So, no. You weren’t crazy.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

Kaya picks at a loose thread on her black jeans. It’s cathartic for all this to finally come out, but she can’t help but feel as though it’s only given their separation a kind of finality. Now that you’ve talked about it, you can move on in peace.

“I really missed you,” she murmurs, not looking at him. “And it felt like you didn’t, not as much. It seemed like the first time we weren’t in sync, you know?” She shrugs, her throat starting to tighten. “It scared me.”

“Kaya, you have no idea how much I missed you,” says Namjoon heavily. He doesn’t say the next bit, but it seems like a logical completion.

“God. Imagine if we’d just had this conversation back then,” he laments, running a tired hand through his hair.

“Yeah. You can cut yourself some slack, though,” she adds, glancing up at him meekly. “We both fucked up.”

Namjoon nods, giving her that same longing look that he’d begun when they’d entered Santa’s Village in Gangnam, before looking away.

“Have you… you know. Moved on?” he ventures, giving her a sideways glance.

She shrugs. “Define moved on.”

“You know. Are you - are you dating anyone?”

Am I ever. “Well,” she begins, taking note of how his shoulders stiffen next to her, “there was this grad student who tried to kiss me in the library, after which I ran away and cried for half an hour in the girls’ bathroom.” She raises her eyebrows. “Does that count?”

Namjoon’s head darts around to look at her. “He did what? Are you okay? Are you - did he hurt you?”

“What? No, no - it wasn’t like that,” she says immediately, shaking her head. “It was the day after you broke up with me and I hadn’t quite had the time to… deal with it yet,” she explains, giving him a reproachful look. “And I guess I’d mentioned sometime offhandedly that I was single, which he seemed to take as permission to try something and… then I told him to get lost.”

Dude, I have a boyfriend! had been her exact words to him, once she’d pushed him away and wiped her mouth in horror.

No, you don’t! he’d retorted, a lanky, brown-haired guy with glasses, sounding more confused than anything.

It had taken someone else to yell it at her for it to sink in, deeply, hurtfully, all the way down at the bottom of her stomach that she, indeed, did not have a boyfriend anymore, that Kim Namjoon was no longer hers - and everyone knew it.

“Why - why did you cry?” Namjoon asks, a note of concern audible.

“Because it felt weird, kissing someone else,” she admits, unable to look at him. “Felt wrong. Like I was cheating on you. What about you?” she asks after a moment. “Have you moved on?”

Namjoon gives her a look. “Does it look like I’ve moved on?”

“Uh-uh. This is not a topic where you can give me a cryptic answer like that.”

He sighs hugely. “No, Kaya, I haven’t,” he clarifies, almost indulgently. “It’s going to take a lot more than three months to move on from you.”

She tries to ignore how her heart zooms at his words, but it’s impossible. Clenching her jaw to keep from smiling, she takes a deep breath. “Wow, we were really late having this conversation,” she echoes his previous remark.

There’s a pregnant pause, with a world of possibilities visible in a single second.

“It doesn’t have to be,” murmurs Namjoon, and the hope in his voice makes her heart skip a beat. He waits for her to look at her. “What do you think? Can we give this another shot, baby?”

Screw you, Kim Namjoon. Kaya hates and loves in equal measure just how well he knows the right words to say to her. Her stomach flutters - butterflies, probably - while a warmth seems to course through her entire body, down to the tips of her fingers.

His face is inches away from hers. In the darkness of the car, with only the Christmas lights from Jieun’s house being the lone bright spot, and she tries to recall the last time he’d ever kissed her.

“I think…” She trails off, unable to think straight with how intensely he’s watching her. She tries again. “I think… I can’t have this conversation with that creepy doll staring at me.”

When Namjoon glances in confusion at the Taehyung doll they’d propped up on the dashboard before they’d begun driving, Kaya uses the opportunity to open her car door and step out. She hears him chuckle before following suit, and goes around the front of the car to join him by the driver’s side where he’s leaning against the door.

“Told you it was a creepy-ass doll.”

“And you were right.” Kaya stops in front of him and almost wishes she’d risked staying inside with the stupid doll. Tall and broad-shouldered, he suddenly takes her breath away. Maybe it’s the black turtleneck and grey jacket combination, maybe it’s the blond hair falling into his eyes and brushing the top of his collar, maybe it’s the familiar, woodsy cologne that she’s only noticed now that they’re out of the car. Either way, she can’t speak for a moment.

“So?” He raises his eyebrows, looking earnest and hopeful and heartbreakingly handsome all at once. “Do you think we can try this again?”

She shivers. “I…” It’s getting harder to breathe, and not just because of how he looks. This is so much more complicated than he’s making it sound. “I think.. we should sleep on it.”

Namjoon raises his eyebrows, apparently processing her answer.

She tries not to hurry her next words. “Look, I know we got all our issues out right now, but… our problems, they’re not going to go away. It’s still going to be the long distance thing, we’ll still have rough patches because of work… and I don’t think I can go through this break-up again.”

He frowns at the ground. “Why do you think we’ll break up again?” he asks, and she can tell he’s working to keep his tone neutral.

“Because making up this time isn’t going to last,” she says softly. He drags his gaze to look up at her then, and she can tell that he knows she’s right. “I just think… I think if we’re going to think about getting back together, we need to have some kind of view on - on what’s going to happen.” She swallows, wondering if he’s caught on to her hesitance to say the word. “Our situation… there’s a lot to think about. And I’m not just talking about the long distance.”

After what feels like an eternity, he nods. “That’s fair,” he says, but she thinks she can sense an undertone of disappointment. “It was just easy to forget, you know?” He shrugs and drops his gaze.

“I know.” And she did. She’d been starting to forget as well; it was too natural to fall into old habits. The way he’d rescued her from the guys at the ATM, the way she’d offered him the chocolate candy that came with her coffee without thinking, how he’d pulled her behind him when he thought he’d noticed someone pointing their phone at him; each of those moments had felt like déjà vu, except totally and completely real.

“That’s what made us kind of great,” she points out after a moment, wrapping her jacket tightly around her. “We always kept each other grounded.”

“So we’re sleeping on it?” Namjoon asks after a moment, looking up.

Kaya nods. “Yeah. Just so we’re sure.”

“I’m leaving for Ilsan tomorrow,” he reminds her.

“Good. That gives us a deadline.”

“Right.” Namjoon exhales. “I guess I’ll talk to you tomorrow, then.” He turns to open the door behind him when something grips at her heart.

“Wait, um -“ She breaks off, turning to glance at the house for a moment. “Do you want to stay for dinner?”

As expected, he shakes his head. “Oh, I - I couldn’t. But thanks.”

“I’m serious. Jieun always makes a ton of food.”

“Yeah, but…” Namjoon looks unsure. “I don’t think I’ll be welcome, right? Your ex-boyfriend… having dinner with your family?”

Kaya has never hated that word more, but she rallies. “I’m inviting you,” she points out. “And no one is going to make you feel unwelcome, I promise. They all love you. Please?” she appeals again. “I… I don’t want the evening to be over just yet.”

That seems to do the trick. Namjoon tilts his head the same way he always does when he wants to give her something but is prevented from it. “I - are you sure? You’re really close with your aunt. And your cousin.”

“Jieun’s always liked you. And believe me, with Jae-lin there, I’ll only be the second happiest person in that house if you join,” she informs him, rolling her eyes. He chuckles and her heart flutters at the sight of his dimple. “My mom’s inside. You should say hi.”

After a moment, he nods. “Okay. Let’s go,” he says, taking a step towards her, his hand gently hovering over her back as they make their way to the house. “I really do think you should ask Jieun, though. Just in case.”

“Jesus, don’t worry…”

“No, but what if she actually says no…”

—

Jieun doesn’t say no. In fact, Kaya’s aunt, more like a sister to her than her actual cousin sister, seems only mildly surprised but tells him he’s welcome. Her husband Jack seems not to notice anything strange at all, while Jae-lin seems absolutely thrilled that Namjoon is back.

“Oh, no, not - not exactly,” Kaya had said when Jae-lin had asked, point blank, if they were back together. There had been no further explanation, and her cousin had been enlisted to set the table and minimise the awkwardness.

“Sorry,” she’d muttered to Namjoon as they reached the dining table, looking up to see him both relieved and amused.

“Don’t worry about it,” he’d replied softly, reaching out behind her to pull out a chair and taking the one next to her. All through dinner, it felt as though nothing had changed, really. Jieun seemed to be enjoying some private joke as she watched them, sharing knowing looks with Kaya’s mother across the table, while Jae-line monopolised Namjoon completely, chattering away in Korean with no attention to anyone else.

Namjoon, ever the gentleman, engaged her fully; there wasn’t a moment where he tried to stop the conversation, his arm on the back of Kaya’s chair the entire time. Kaya stayed in conversation with Jack and her mother as much as she could, hoping that they wouldn’t allude to the situation at all.

Meeting her mother’s gaze was the hardest - not because Kaya was afraid she would disapprove, but because of how openly happy she looked.

“Mom, we’re not back together yet,” she’d murmured halfway through dinner, when her mother had given her yet another glowing, knowing, mom look.

“I know,” she’d replied, glancing at Namjoon over Kaya’s shoulder, “but you want to be.”

Did she? Kaya didn’t know. She was sure what she felt for him, even what he possibly felt for her. She knew they were happy with each other, understood each other, had an unimaginable amount of affection for each other.

But she didn’t know if she could do this again. As she sat next to Namjoon, feeling their shoulders brush occasionally and hearing his deep laugh next to her, she knew that “sleeping on it” would be far easier said than done.

“Thank you for dinner,” he says an hour later, bowing slightly to Jieun, Jack and her mother. “I had a great time.”

“I’ll walk you out,” says Kaya quickly, already turning towards the door, when Jae-lin pipes up.

“Oh, I’ll come, too!” she volunteers excitedly in English, and before anyone can say anything, sweeps by them and opens the front door.

A moment of silence follows before Namjoon speaks. “Sure, lead the way,” he says, smiling at her and squeezing Kaya’s hand apologetically. It’s the only thing that keeps Kaya from saying anything, even as the three of them exit the house into the cold night.

She trails behind them, arms folded across her chest, as she listens to them converse in Korean again. For all she knows, Jae-lin has just resumed their conversation from dinner, the words blending into each other for Kaya. With Korean-American parents, Jae-lin speaks both Korean and English with ease. Right now, though, Kaya wishes she would just stop speaking.

“Wow, what a sexy car,” says Jae-lin in wonder, running her hand on the smooth metal of the bonnet. She looks up to see Kaya glaring at her with a hand on her hip. “What?” she asks defensively. “We all use that word, unnie.”

Kaya stares at her. “Hey, Jae? Can you give us a minute?”

Jae-lin’s eyes flit between her cousin and Namjoon before they widen suddenly, as though she’s just realising she might be interrupting. “Oh! Yes, of course! I - uh, good night, Namjoon oppa,” she adds hastily and hurries away.

Kaya watches her until she enters the house before turning around to face Namjoon. “God, what a nightmare,” she mutters, rolling her eyes when he guffaws. “Shut up.”

“You shut up. You love her,” he says easily, still grinning.

“And you’re a saint.”

“Yeah, because you love her.” He leans back against his car again, the same way he was before. “And not to take a leaf out of Jae-lin’s book, but you looked really sexy being all strict with her.”

Kaya raises her eyebrows, feeling an old, familiar stirring in her abdomen. “Really?”

His smile gets wider. “Uh-huh.”

“I guess it’s a good quality for someone who’s working to be a professor one day.”

“Uh-uh. With a bunch of horny college students? They aren’t going to hear a word you say if you look at them like that,” he argues, taking a step closer to her.

The stirring passes from her abdomen to between her legs in an instant. “Okay, no. No flirting tonight,” she mutters, placing a hand on his chest and pushing him away. “Not when we’re in this… limbo.”

His jaw drops teasingly. “No flirting at all?”

“No. It’s supposed to be a serious night, to think. With the… thinking. And stuff.”

“Good call on those three glasses of wine during dinner.”

She sighs and drops her head in her hands. “I was nervous. But I’m okay, really,” she insists honestly, straightening up as he gently pries her hands away from her face.

Namjoon doesn’t say anything, just smiles at her fondly, his hands in the pockets of his jacket. It tugs at her heart, how transparent he’s being with his feelings. She’d seen it earlier in the evening, too, when they’d been navigating the market square to locate his car.

They’d stopped to open the map on his phone and Kaya had moved closer to him to be able to see the screen. All of a sudden, she’d heard him say something in Korean and looked up to see him smiling at an older couple who were walking away. Just before they disappeared from sight, the man had caught her eye and pointed upward. Slightly confused, she’d tilted her head up to see a sprig of mistletoe hanging from the wooden structure of the pop-up stall next to them.

Namjoon hadn’t said anything then either, choosing to simply suppress a smile and look somewhere near her shoulder, leaving the ball in her court. His you look pretty stunt was still burnt in her mind, though, so without too much thought, she’d reached up and pressed a kiss to his cheek before continuing walking.

It’s the same look now, the one where he seems to be on the verge of throwing caution to the wind. But she knows him too well, enough to know that caution is something he doesn’t play around with.

“Kaya…”

“Sleep on it,” she interrupts softly. “Seriously. It’ll be better.”

He looks for a moment as though he’s about to argue but at the last second simply nods. “Your hair’s longer,” he comments, fingering the ends of her loose, dark hair.

“Yeah. I’ll have to cut it soon.”

“Don’t. It’s beautiful.”

Kaya sighs. “Joon, you’re making this really hard,” she complains softly, her gaze dropping to his chest. She imagines him pulling her into it, feeling the hug she’s needed for months now.

“Sorry.” He swallows, just as a tune begins playing. His eyes light up in surprise. “Wait, do you know this song?”

“Uh… no,” she answers, frowning at the unfamiliar melody. It sounds like it’s coming from Jieun’s bedroom, but she can neither recall nor understand the lyrics. “Do you?”

“Yeah,” he says immediately, glancing up at the same window. “It’s pretty popular. It came out a long time ago, though. Like, when I was a baby.”

“Huh.” She listens for a few seconds. “Very Phil Collins,” she remarks.

Namjoon bites his lips and smiles, the dimple popping gorgeously. “You know what this reminds me of?”

Kaya grins despite herself. “Let me guess,” she begins deliberately as she lets him take her hand. “London?”

He chuckles, wrapping his other arm around her waist. “Hey, I can’t help it if London has so many good memories,” he reasons, his feet already moving in a rough rhythm.

She laughs but doesn’t argue, choosing to enjoy how he feels against her for a few precious minutes - quite possibly the last few minutes that she’ll ever feel it. She squeezes her eyes shut for a moment before opening them, only to see a light over his shoulder.

“Oh, God. Can we not do this where the neighbour can see us from his bathroom?” she groans, starting to step away.,

Namjoon tugs her even closer. “No one’s watching us. It’s Christmas Eve; they have better things to do.”

“Actually, it’s Christmas Eve-Eve and - okay, we’re in direct eyeline of the main road. Namjoon, what if someone sees you - oh, my God!”

Kaya’s feet leave the ground all of a sudden and after two large strides, Namjoon places her back down on the ground, arm firm around her. She bursts into giggles, stifling them against his shoulder as she regains her balance, looking up to see them under the tree in Jieun’s front yard, the fairy lights giving them a warm glow.

“Is that better?” he asks, laughing.

“Much better,” she agrees, feeling her heart expand as she moves right up against him, holding his shoulder and pressing a kiss to his collarbone as the song continues playing.

“Good,” he murmurs, his lips at her hair.

It isn’t a long song; Kaya’s just about registering how good he feels, how familiar, how safe, when the music fades away. They don’t step away from each other, though. She rests her forehead on his shoulder, hoping another song will play - anything to keep this moment going on a bit longer.

It doesn’t, but they still don’t move. She can feel Namjoon’s heartbeat against her hand, the one he’s clasping against his chest.

“Do you still love me?” he asks quietly.

Just like yesterday when he’d texted unexpectedly, taking the initial step, displaying the first hints of vulnerability, Kaya feels every strip of remaining defensiveness fall away, leaving nothing but raw honesty behind.

“Yes,” she admits, softly but clearly.

Namjoon’s arm tightens around her. “Can I kiss you?”

Her heart leaps. “Can you check if Jae-lin is still here?”

He snickers but she can feel his head tilt up. “No, she’s gone.”

“Then, yes,” she answers immediately, finally separating from him. Namjoon looks as though the sun’s come out; he exhales purposefully, his gaze falling from her eyes to her mouth. Gently moving her hair away from her face, he pulls her closer and, after more than half a year of doubt, anxiety and sadness, he kisses her.

The first time he’d ever kissed her was sweetness; sunny, warm and inviting. The next few times were flirty, sensual, teasing, followed by sexy, loving, affectionate - whatever the situation demanded. Namjoon was a hell of a kisser, his lips and body always moving in tandem, and he made her feel whatever the moment desired, every single time.

Right now, it’s a multitude of things. Kaya can’t even begin to identify it; she’s barely made it past the fact that she’s kissing him again, finally, feeling his lips and his hair and his hands on her. There are too many things in the kiss, but there’s only one thing clear in her mind: please don’t let this be goodbye.

It’s a vain hope because it may very well be, and she pulls him closer by the lapels of his jacket when she thinks it, trying somewhere in the desperation of their passion to remember that at least now, if they end everything right here, she’ll remember their last kiss.

Namjoon’s holding her close, so close. His lips are soft but firm, and the kiss sinking. When they finally pull away, staying right there, foreheads touching and his hand still in her hair, Kaya feels his heartbeat again. It’s under her palm, racing unevenly, but so strong.

This can’t be goodbye, she thinks again, even though every passing second makes it more and more clear that it probably is. It had been her suggestion to think it over and to consider more than just love, but in this moment, she regrets it immensely, for while Namjoon can be sweet and loving and romantic, nothing makes as much sense to him as pure, rational thinking.

It was one of the most attractive qualities about him; he was an artist, had an artist’s vision and temperament, but still held logic and reasoning in high regard. To a research student who worked with numbers, data and science, he was the perfect combination of everything she wanted in a man.

Despite that, Kaya wishes she’d never said anything. Eyes squeezed shut, she can’t believe this might be the last time, the last everything. She feels him take a deep breath before he kisses her forehead.

And just like that, she knows she’s made a mistake.

“Goodnight, Kaya,” he whispers against her skin. He pulls away and smooths down her hair. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

There’s nothing left to do but nod silently, and watch him drive away into the cold.

—

A faint buzzing wakes her up.

“Fuck,” whispers Kaya, feeling around on her bedside table for her phone. Squinting at the screen, she pauses in confusion. When the ringing continues, she answers before she wakes her mother sleeping next to her.

“Hello?”

“Hey.” Namjoon sounds far more awake than her. “Sorry, I think I woke you.”

“Good guess,” she mutters thickly, sitting up into a slightly more comfortable position. “What’s up? Is - is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” There’s a pause where she can hear the smile in his voice. “I forgot how adorable you sound when you’re sleepy.”

Despite how her heart skips a beat, she frowns. “Seriously? You woke me up at the break of dawn to flirt with me?”

He chuckles, low and pleasant. “No. I was hoping we could talk. In person,” he clarifies after a moment.

“I - well… I don’t think I’ll get a cab for a couple more hours at least.”

“Mhm, mhm. It’s a good thing I’m outside Jieun’s house, then.”

Kaya’s eyes snap open. “You’re - what?” She peers out of the gap between the curtains in the guest room. “Babe, it’s six am - the sun isn’t even up yet,” she groans, a second before she inwardly cringes and hopes he’ll let her slip of the tongue go without comment.

“I - I know. But I’ve been thinking about this all night. You asked me to sleep on it - and that’s what I did. I thought about it, looked back on everything, even had a drink to clear my head.”

“So you did everything but sleep on it.”

Namjoon sighs. “I’m sorry, I just… I have to leave in a few hours. And I don’t want to have this conversation over the phone.”

His tone seems to imply not wholly good news. She swallows, her heart already sinking. “And it can’t wait?” She drops her head into her hand. “I think those three glasses of wine are finally hitting me.”

“I have coffee,” he offers. “And the fresh air should help.”

Irrefutable logic. The smell of caffeine seems to spur her decision and she rolls her eyes. “Fine. Thank God you’re not my leader.”

He laughs. “I’m waiting outside,” he says before hanging up.

There’s no scope to pretty herself for this. Kaya manages to stumble to the bathroom and brush her teeth, after which it’s layer upon layer until she deems herself sufficiently padded for a December morning in Seoul at dawn. She doesn’t want to risk waking anyone up, so simply drops her mother a text: I’m fine. Just went outside for a walk with Namjoon.

“Hey, beautiful,” he greets her when she steps out, pursing his lips when she momentarily freezes. “Here you go,” he says, handing her a cup of coffee.

“Thanks. I needed this.” She takes the first sip, hot enough to scald her throat, and shivers in the frosty air. They begin walking down the street, the same one they’d driven up last night, with hundreds of unspoken words between them. Now, with all of them uttered and confessed, the air seems clearer and sky seems lighter, a nice indigo over the Christmas lights put up through the lane.

“Thank you for having me over last night,” he says. “I was planning on going home and ordering in, so home-cooked food was kind of amazing.”

“Well, you definitely paid Jieun back in kind, by keeping her daughter entertained all night,” she reminds him, still annoyed by how gushy Jae-lin had been last night. She’d always been a fan, since years before Kaya and Namjoon had ever met, and even though she’d somehow managed to get used to the fact that they were dating, her outward behaviour still needed some restraining sometimes.

Namjoon laughs. “I didn’t mind.” He’s dressed in sweatpants and a grey hoodie, with a black leather jacket thrown hurriedly over it. Looking at him, it’s as though he’d rushed out the door to meet with her.

They reach the neighbourhood park, empty as expected. It seems to be the only area in the entire neighbourhood that isn’t decorated; at this time of the morning, it looks strangely eerie.

“This should work,” mutters Namjoon, stepping inside and heading towards the swings, sitting on one edge of a two-person swing. Kaya trails after him silently, stopping a few steps away as he adjusts his position and looks up at her.

It’s gorgeous, his small smile. “Sit with me?” he asks. “I always loved going to the park as a kid. My parents would get happy because it meant I was taking a break from studying.” He chuckles.

Kaya doesn’t move. Dropping her gaze to the cup in her hand, she traces the mouth of the lid with her finger. “What’s happening right now, Namjoon? Is this us taking another risk together or… just an amicable way to say goodbye?”

Namjoon’s smile fades slightly. “Sit with me?” he repeats, sounding more sombre this time. “I’ll explain everything.”

Hesitating for a moment, Kaya joins him on the swing. Their shoulders brush, and she tucks her hair behind her ear before placing both hands around her cup like a safety tool, savouring the heat from it.

He takes a deep breath. “I thought about it,” he says finally. “In fact, I’ve been thinking about it all night. And if you ask me right now if I want to get back together… the answer is yes. It’s just yes,” he says earnestly, meeting her eyes. “I don’t have to think about it. I - I want you,” he admits. “I want to be your boyfriend. I want you in my life.”

I want you. The words should be enough for her to break into song, but instead Kaya’s chest constricts, as though her heart is bracing itself for the bad news.

“But if you’re asking me about a decision,” he continues, looking away now. “If you’re asking me about a long-term plan for our future - which is a fair ask, by the way,” he inserts quickly, glancing up briefly, “I - you know, it turns out I’ve been thinking about this for a while? I didn’t realise it, but it’s always been there at the back of my mind.”

Kaya doesn’t say anything. There’s a sense of foreboding in his words and she wonders all of a sudden if it isn’t just better to have a break-up over the phone.

“Given my job,” he says slowly, sounding like he’s choosing his words carefully, “given the industry, given my family… the fact that I’ll have to enlist in the military in a few years -” He breaks off momentarily and clears his throat, while her heart clenches. “Given all that, I think it would be impossible - and irresponsible - of me to promise you a future that I don’t know if I’ll be able to give you.”

“But I can promise you,” he says after a moment, and she knows he’s tilting his head to try and meet her eyes, “that every decision I take, every plan that I make… all of that will be done keeping this future in mind. The one with you in it.”

She frowns, finally looking up at him. “Are you sure?” she asks, and she hopes he understands what she’s asking.

He seems to. “Yeah, I am. I can’t… not have you in my future. If I look down ten years, fifteen years, twenty… I just can’t picture a future without you in it.”

Kaya doesn’t know what to say. They’ve just ventured into territory she wasn’t expecting. It’s not commitment. It’s not even a plan. It’s just a promise of intent, and she has no choice but to take him at his word.

He brushes her knee with the back of his hand. “Kaya?”

She bites her lip. “This… future,” she ventures, finding it strange even saying the word. “If you had it your way… what does it look like?”

Namjoon seems to consider this. “White picket fence,” he says, nodding. “And a backyard, definitely.”

Without meaning to, Kaya feels her face break into a smile. “Really?”

“Yeah. And, uh… one of those small bars in the house, with a countertop and the mixer things,” he adds, using an imaginary shaker. “A suburban house… late night drinks, where we talk about how our day was.” He looks down at her and smirks playfully. “Meeting for quickies in the studio during lunch?”

Kaya laughs. “Of course, I’m sure,” she says sarcastically, secretly unable to wait for more. “What else?”

“Um…” He squints up at the lightening sky, trying to think. “Museum dates on the weekends… Learning how to use a lawnmower.”

“I’m sorry,” she says softly, reaching up to touch his bangs, her heart full, “but there is no future in which I’m ever letting you near a lawnmower.”

Namjoon snorts. “Fair enough. What about… oh, a home gym, for sure.” The smile fades a bit, and he gets a slightly faraway look in his eyes. “An SUV… big enough to fit multiple people.” He meets her eyes. “Four bedrooms. At least.”

She swallows, her heart pounding. The prickling in her eyes is back and she stares at her lap, hoping it’ll go away. “Are you really serious right now?” she asks quietly, hearing the tremble in her voice.

“Completely,” he promises. “I know it’s not what you asked, and I’m sorry I can’t give that to you. But it’s the best I can do. Is it… is it enough for you?”

After what feels like an eternity, but is really only a few seconds, Kaya nods. “Yes,” she answers, watching the relief flood through his face. “It’s enough for me.”

When Namjoon says nothing and simply exhales shakily, she tilts her head. “Do you still love me?” she asks him, unable to keep the teasing out of her tone.

He gives a raspy sort of chuckle, pulling her to him and kissing her temple. “You’re the love of my life, baby.”

This would be the time to break into song, but Kaya reins it in, choosing instead to close her eyes and press her lips to his jaw, savouring that Kim Namjoon is, once again, hers - possibly for a long, long time.

“You know I spent, like, an hour yesterday picking out my outfit,” she murmurs after a moment, waiting for him to hum against her hair. “Should I get mad at you now or later for choosing to confess your undying love for me when I’m in a college sweatshirt and Jieun’s Uggs?”

He laughs, the deep sound making her heart flutter. “If it helps, I realised my undying love for you yesterday, while you were in your sexy outfit.” He tugs her closer by the waist and kisses her on the mouth.

Kaya makes a sound of surprise but doesn’t pull away. She holds his face to hers, running her hand through his hair, his thick blond strands as he gently coaxes her mouth open. There’s only so much room on the swing, though, and after about a minute of renewed passion, Kaya feels it sway dangerously under her. She’s just about to pull away when Namjoon sucks on her lower lip, a low groan accompanying it, and squeezes her waist - and she falls.

“Shit,” he mutters, taking a second to understand what just happened. “Are you okay?” he asks, snickering and bending to give her a hand. His dimple appears on his left cheek, brighter than the sunrise.

“What better way to resume our relationship, right?” she mutters dryly, taking his hand and dusting herself off. “The sun’s coming up, anyway - you don’t want to get caught making out with someone in a children’s park.”

“What kid comes to the park at seven in the morning?” he argues, tugging her closer by the waist again. “It’s the perfect place to make out with my girlfriend, if you think about it.”

She’s about to differ, but he kisses her on the cheek then before trailing his lips down her jaw and towards her neck. She sighs, her eyes fluttering shut on their own. He leaves for Ilsan in a few hours; if there was ever a time to risk making out in a public place, this is it.

“Fine, come here,” she instructs, stepping away and ignoring his protests, pulling him towards the corner of the park. She stops just beyond the jungle gyms, near the wall bordering the park and under a canopy of trees. “This will do,” she says approvingly, grinning when he wordlessly kisses her again.

Here, with the protection of the trees from prying eyes, Kaya allows herself to be taken by him completely. It’s the same urgent passion, but less desperate and more affectionate. Museum dates, late night drinks and an SUV, she thinks, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him deeper. He knew the right things to say and she hopes with all her heart that they make it to the future he’s envisioning.

“Mm, Joon, your hands are cold,” she complains against his lips, giggling as he slips them under her t-shirt.

“They are, huh?” he murmurs, low and deep, nipping at her lip and backing her against the wall.

“Fucking freezing,” she adds, sighing when they disappear from against her skin. “Can we go back to my - oh, wait,” she remembers, leaning her head back against the wall. “This isn’t Amsterdam and I don’t have an apartment of my own.”

“Well, it’s Seoul and I do have an apartment of my own,” he points out. “I have to be back in Ilsan for brunch but maybe we can sneak away for a bit…?” Namjoon trails off, shaking his head already, clearly on the same lines as her.

“We can do better than a quickie,” she says heavily, even as she presses her lips together. Her eyes dart to the bulge in his sweatpants and she swallows, resisting the urge to palm him right here. “When are you back?”

“Twenty-seventh morning,” he answers. “When are you flying back?”

Kaya hesitates. “Twenty-eighth morning.”

“Okay.” He nods, brushing his thumb against her cheek. “It’s going to be a hell of a twenty-seventh of December, then.”

She smiles and nods. “Yeah. I’m glad you’ll be with your family on Christmas, by the way.”

“Me, too.”

“Do you want to come over for a quick breakfast?” she offers, raising her eyebrows. “Everyone in that house is an early riser, including Jae-lin.”

“Sure,” he answers, surprising her. “You can tell her we’re back together, too.”

“Perfect.”

“Oh, wait.” Namjoon frowns, apparently just remembering something. “Won’t they be worried? If they wake up and see that you’re gone?”

“We’re half a block away from the house,” she reminds him.

“Sure, but they don’t know you’re here,” he points out.

She shakes her head. “Don’t worry. I dropped my mom a text.”

“Do you think that’s enough?”

“She’ll know I’m okay,” assures Kaya, getting up on her tiptoes to kiss him again. “I told her I’m with you.”

—

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#namjoon x oc #namjoon x reader #namjoon x fanfic #btswritingcafe #thebtswritersclub #btshoneyhive #bangtanbathhouse #bangtanwhq #houseofddaeng #btscarnivalnet #kvanity #bangtanoasis #wkcnet #rm fanfic #rm angst #namjoon angst #hyunglinenetwork

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ch4nb4ng · 3 years ago

Text

Evil Roommate

pairing: leeknow x afab!reader, roommates enemies to lovers

warnings: softdom!lino, cheating (mentioned), making out, grinding, oral (f receiving), fingering penetration, cum play (?), praise

requested : yes!

word count 6.2k

summary: the new roommate was a handful. lazy, disrespectful, arrogant, and a whole bunch of other negative things. but wow, you were sexually frustrated and he, well, attractive, was an understatement.

“Can you actually like, wash your kitchen utensils when you're done using them?”

The amount of huffing and puffing you have heard from your new roommate in the past two weeks was ridiculous. If you had a dollar for every time he had gone against anything you had politely asked for, you would be rich by now, and definitely stable enough to move out and away from him.

“I will,” he mumbled, mouth stuffed with half of the carrot he was chewing on, very loudly, “can I not enjoy my food first?”

“No,” you replied without hesitation, giving the fakest of smiles in return, “you should do it before you eat.”

Another eye roll from Minho was like water off a duck’s back.

“I'd also appreciate it if you didn’t talk to me with your mouth full of food either.”

“What the fuck is your problem?”

You coughed, turning on your hills to face a very unimpressed roommate. His stare was eye shattering. Yes, he was very, no, extremely good looking. However, every single thing that made up his personality could not be more different to you. Sloppy, messy, lazy. Took no responsibility for any of his actions, especially the high pitch noises (that obviously were not his) you would hear from his room in the early hours of the morning. You would pinch your pillow together, praying extremely hard that the noise would stop, and by the time it did, you would get maybe 2, 3 hours of sleep. College was becoming tiring, not only from staying up to complete assessments, but the lewd noises you could hear from at least 2 people in his room. Your blunt attitude towards Minho’s unhygienic and disrespectful habits were definitely justified.

“What are you talking about?”

“Why do you nitpick everything I do?”

Your jaw dropped, completely dumbfounded.

“Me? Nitpicking you? Please,” you scoffed, “you don't clean up after yourself ever, you leave your dirty clothes everywhere, and don't even get me started on the fact that I barely get any sleep because of your wild sex adventures with other people that occur almost every weeknight, when you know I have to wake up early to go to class next day.”

A combination of frustration and exhaustion could be heard through the harshness of each breath. The smirk that appeared on his face was absolutely punch worthy. What on earth was there to be so cocky of?

“My wild sex adventures,” he paused taking a bite of the dreaded carrot, “please, tell me more about my wild sex adventures.”

His tongue was now obviously pressed against his cheek, a devil coated smile still very apparent on his face. The longer he was looking at you like that, the hotter your cheeks became. Pure anger began to course through you; all he had to do was sit there and look pretty. It was definitely enough for you to get the green light to slap him across the face.

“Shut the fuck up,” you hissed, “I don’t need to explain how I can hear them moaning your name every night, or the banging I hear from wall to-”

“Hmm,” he hummed, “you seem to be listening very well.”

Distracted by your anger for a brief moment, you gasped suddenly, feeling Minho’s fingertips at your sides. You turned around, swatting his hands away, giving him that slap that you felt you had earned across the face.

“Who the fuck said you could touch me?

“Did you just fucking slap me?”

“Yes I fucking did,” you spat, “what do you take me for?”

“You know what you’re right, but you walk around here with a stick up your ass. I hear you on the phone to your friends, complaining about how you don't get any action from anyone.”

You stood there in disbelief. “So you’ve been eavesdropping on my convos as well?”

“Well it’s kind of hard not to hear, you know, the walls in this house are kind of thin.”

Your jaw clenched, his eyebrows furrowed, the conversation was at a stand still.

“Can you get to the point please?”

“I sure can sweetheart,” the name sending a shiver down your spine, “if you're that sexually frustrated, go and do something about it instead of taking it out on me?”

A laugh that you didn't even know you were capable of bellowed from your chest. You stumbled back, grabbing onto stool behind the bench for support.

“Me? Sexually frustrated? Please,” you huffed, “I’m not sexually frustrated, and it definitely has nothing to do with you.”

Another scoff escaped your lips as you shuffled back to your room. Closing the door behind you, a heavy sigh came from your chest as you sat on the edge of your bed. How on earth was he able to read you like that? So well and so accurate? It was all you could think about, not to mention the fact that it was also night time simultaneously.

You let your body fall onto your bed sheets. The feeling of restlessness was consuming your body. As you crawled into bed, you looked straight into the ceiling. Why were you thinking about his words so much? Were you really taking it out on him? You shook your head, mentally slapping yourself for even considering the thought.

Minho was a lazy slob who was extremely inconsiderate of others, especially you. But why was the thought of his fingers on your sides becoming the main source of agitation.? The silence of your thoughts was deafening, but they were easily interrupted as soon as you heard the door open, a high pitched voice followed what felt like the most ludicrous creek you had ever heard. ‘I should really put some oil on the door huh?’ You paused for a couple of seconds, this time physically face palming yourself for the dumb excuse you had made to see who he had decided to bring over to accompany him tonight. Legs completely ignoring your brain, you were out of bed, hand twisting the knob and peeking a look at the poor girl that would be subjected to Minho’s torture tonight. Tip toeing out of the doorway, you kept the weight of a feather on your toes, making yourself as invisible as possible.

“Y/n?”

Your pink panther stance of attempted deception looked utterly ridiculous and not sly at all was extremely confusing to the two. You quickly relaxed into a normal stance, the fakest of smiles coming across your face as you see who it is he brought home to have his way with.

“Chaeyeon… heyyy,” you lingered, “I didn’t know you were coming over.”

You would have been happy with literally anyone else. But Chaeyeon? Chaeyeon? It’s like she was your number one arch rival. Minho knew how much you hated her, yet he still let her come over. Everything about her you could not stand, not to mention the fact that she home wrecked your last serious relationship. Even though it was a while ago, you can forgive but not forget, her face being a constant reminder of your hurtful past.

“Oh hey Y/N,” she almost signed, her amount of excitement to see you matching yours, “I didn’t know you lived here.”

The arm he had around her waist made you sick.

“There’s a lot of things you don't know about me,” you mumbled, foot swaying back and forth, eyes focused on said foot.

“Okay, so you guys have had a little reunion,” Minho interrupted. Anything would have been better to break the awkward silence than his sarcastic comments, “we’re gonna go to my room now.”

“NO!” you interjected, covering the hallway with every bit of your being, “I mean, what’s the rush huh? Changbin is coming over as well.”

You paused, Minho’s face clearly cussing you out if yelling was inappropriate at this current moment.

“Uh no thanks Y/N-”

“We should all hang out!”

The excitement coming from your voice was so inauthentic, it was hard to miss.

“Yeah! Let’s all hang out,” you walked behind them, placing a hand on each of their backs and you hurried them to the couch, “I’ll get some beers in the fridge.”

“I actually only drink vodka,” Chaeyeon yawns, obnoxiously twirling her hair, her other hand aggravatingly high on his thigh.

“Oh that’s totally fine,” you gritted through tightly clenched teeth, “we have a bottle in the fridge, I’ll grab that for you as well.”

You scuffled back over to the fridge, mentally cursing yourself as you grabbed the necessary beverages. The confusion you were giving yourself about why you were putting in so much effort to spend time with the two people you literally hated more than anything was mind baffling

“So,” you began again, passing a Corona to Minho, a glass to Chaeyeon, “how have you been finding your course so far?”

You sat the Smirnoff and Orange juice on the table. Yes, you were being nice, but not nice enough to pour the drink for this bitch.

“Oh it was so great,” she smiled, “Jisung and I were living together, it was, well, a dream really.”

The feeling of your nails became prominent in your fists as your fingers caved in. The mention of his name was enough to make you see red, let alone the idea of them being happily together. The itch of your eye begging to roll was becoming too prominent, so much that you had to get up and walk away for a second. You stood up abruptly, confusion etched into Minho’s features. You didn’t want to make this a big deal, but the fact that she continued to gloat about it, long after you stopped listening was enough to reach your breaking point.

“I think I heard my phone ringing from my room, it must be Changbin.”

“I don't think I hear anything,” Minho smirked, plastering his lips on the edge of the bottle. The way his lips wrapped around the tip of the warm glass was something you ‘accidentally’ became fixated on. You puffed your cheeks, storming to your room and somewhat aggressively shutting the door behind you. Scrambling for your phone on the bedside table, you panicked, unclear mind as you scrolled through your phone contacts. You paused, an inducing amount of oxygen filling up your lungs. It did little to calm the irritated tingling sensation in your fingers.

Changbin’s name had finally popped up on your phone after what had felt like a lifetime.

“Hello?”

His voice was husky, guilt panging your chest as you realsied you had probably woken him up from his not very often deep slumber.

“Changbin,” you gasped, “you know how much I love you right?”

“What do you need me to do?”

You snickered at his words. He had been your friend for too long to know that those words would never be said unless you needed something.

“Can you come over,” you pleaded, “Chaeyeon is here with Minho because he invited her over late at night, and I told them you were coming over?”

“Jesus Y/n,” Changbin sighed, a playful chuckle tickling your cheek, “so you want me to come over and make Minho jealous?”

“Wait no wtf,” you jumbled, “make Minho jealous? I just want you to flirt with me and Chaeyeon so she leaves.”

“Mhm yeah,” he chuckled once more, voice laced with sarcasm as he spoke, “I’ll come over, but if you don't sleep with him by the end of the night, I’m gonna be extremely disappointed.”

“Yeah okay whatever just get your ass over here now.”

And with that you abruptly ended the phone call, Changbin giving you no peace of mind. Were you this easy to read by everybody? A frustrated sigh exploded from your chest. The games your head and your heart were playing with were helping you come to no resolution. You sat on your bed, thoughts were running crazy. Now would be a really great time to just put on Netflix and curl into bed, have some snacks and fall asleep, chip trail on ur chest to be found in the morning.

You were interrupted by the very loud knock on the door. Sprinting like your life depended on it, you were relieved. Seeing Changbin’s face had never before given you so much joy.

“Changbin,” you shouted, wrapping your arms around him in a tight embrace.

“Y/n what are you doing-”

“Shut up and go along with it,” you mumbled into his chest, letting up, but still keeping your body tightly wounded against his. Minho’s jaw became clenched, or were you just imagining things?

Regardless of what it was, your brain quickly shifted to the way Chaeyeon was eyeing Changbin up and down, almost like it was the first time she had ever seen an attractive male. ‘She definitely wasn’t looking at Minho like that when he walked in’ you thought, an unconscious smirk coming to mouth. You bit down on your bottom lip, an extremely poor attempt at masking the satisfaction of your goal being achieved so easily. One step closer to kicking her out, for good, because there was no way you weren’t talking to Minho after this about making an explicit declaration of her abandonment from this house.

“Minho,” he smiled, earning a nod, “Chaeyeon,” he smirked, an almost gag spilling out of your mouth.

“Changbin,” she followed, repeating his smirk, “long time no see.”

She gulped, engulfing a large sip of alcohol into her wicked mouth.

“Let’s play a game!”

“A game,” you questioned, raising an eyebrow, “why would we play-”

“I think that’s a great idea!”

You turned to look at him, a puzzled expression still very apparent on your facial features.

“Get the vodka out from the fridge, and let’s get started.”

***

Two bottles of vodka down, and what looked like 8 bottles of Corona sitting empty on the table, the games that were being played were becoming more difficult to comprehend. Sound of giggle and laughter constantly filled the room as everyone slowly began to lose their minds to the intoxication.

“O-okay, never have I e-ever, done a sexual act in public.”

Filters of chuckles and laughter filled the room as everyone, but you took a sip.

“What?” she asked, offering you her fake sympathy, “you’ve never done anything like that before?”

“I-I mean,” you stuttered, the look of confusion was evident, “I don’t think I have-”

“Yes you have.”

All eyes were snapped open and pressing into Minho’s skull as he began to converse.

“Pfft, no I have not,” you scoffed, taking another swig. An eye roll left came from Minho, followed by a sound of what seemed to be disgust as he shot gunned his current bottle.

“Yes you have,” he nagged, playfully hitting your shoulder, “I saw you.”

Complete silence fell over the room as he words lingered in the air. You genuinely had no idea what he was talking about.The feeling of the room had suddenly changed. His eyes became soft, fixated on nothing but the way your body slumped against the rough material of the couch.

Your mind began to drift. Thoughts floating into earlier scenes of the night. The closeness of his breath fanning your neck ever so softly, palms spread across your hips. The idea of marks on you swimming into your head. God that would feel so good. Letting him grab you and throw you onto his bed. Climbing up your frame, starting from the bottom of your legs, keeping a tight grip on your inner thighs. The feeling of faint lips stealing every inch of your being, tantalisingly hitting every, single, spot, finally reaching your-

“Y/N? Y/N!”

The feeling of Changbin's shaking your shoulders definitely brought you back to reality. His hands did feel nice, but they weren’t the ones you were longing for. Your head was thrown back, disbelief filling you as your mind continued to fill the gutter.

“When?”

As you moved closer, you giggled, placing your finger tip across his knee. You let them dance, index fingers tapping away at the skin you so desperately wanted to see in this moment.

“Mr. Lee Minho, when did you see me?”

“I’m not saying it here in front of-”

“Who? Chaeyeon?”

Your prowling continued, bodies even closer as you slowly began to climb him like an inanimate object. This would have been completely awkward sober. Nothing about this was romantic in the slightest. To an outsider, or Changbin and Chaeyeon, you were right there, situated across Minho’s lap. It wasn’t quite a straddle, it was just something. They both stayed quiet, paying little attention to your animalistic act, already focused on feeling each other up. Or so you assumed, seeing as they didn’t say anything. All that was heard was the sound of the front door. You snapped your head for a quick moment, eyes scanning the emptiness the room suddenly felt.

“It was in the car.”

Minho’s words felt heavy, like he had more to say.

“The car?”

You were taken aback, face moving away from the closeness of his. Part of your brain clicked, remembering exactly what he was talking about. With Jisung. The memory of hurt was quickly forgotten as the feeling of Minho’s palms spread across your body was bringing you to life. The adrenaline came all at once. Your mind was telling you to move away, but your body was saying something else, affirming it’s position.

Minho was leaning in, barely any spaces between the two as his fingertips began to spread lower and lower, firmly gripping either side of your ass as he moved you closer. A helpless whimper escaped your lips as you felt your legs tighten, heat running down to your core, quickly. What the fuck was happening right now?

“You were on top of him,” he whispered, pulling your hips against him once more, “just like this.”

“F-fuck,” was all that managed to slip out of your lips. This was becoming difficult. So difficult to say no and move away. You knew it was the right thing to do. Things would just be awkward and you could go back to hating him. No matter how much you tried, how much you wanted to, you were powerless. Every fiber of your being was being given up to him. You leaned in closer, foreheads now touching as you looked at him. His gaze was anything but lacklustre as his jaw became tense. His body began to ache simultaneously with yours. The pressure was becoming too much.

“Do you want this?”

“What?”

A small whine escaped you at the loss of his tips gripping your body. They quickly made their way to either side of your face. Your body began to rock back and forth on it’s own. You had become desperate for any sort of friction that you could create.

“I said, do you want this?”

“Do you?”

His expression made you nervous. It was hard to read. All you could see was the black substance of his pupils enlarge, increasing in diameter by the second. Almost like a supernatural being was possessing him.

“Fuck,” you grunted, wrapping your hands around his neck to steady yourself on top of him, “you’re making it hard to say no.”

Things were already becoming hazy the longer you stayed. A huff of frustration came from him as he was giving all his effort not to give into the way you were rubbing your dampening heat against him. It was like a drug he could not refuse.

“Kiss me if you want me.”

He huffed, the edge of his lips just barely brushing against the tip of your nose.

“Kiss me, and give me the green light.”

You waited a moment, any part of your brain that wasn't concentrated solely on his palms digging into your sides trying to reason. You looked at him once more. His eyes, nose, lips. His lips.

“Fuck it.”

He was quick to work, pushing you down to lie flat against the couch. A small kiss to your lips was felt as he pulled away, lifting his arms up and throwing his shirt to the floor at Usain Bolt pace. The smirk on your face was too easy for him not to see.

“You like what you fucking see don’t you?”

“Just shut the fuck up and kiss me.”

Of course. Of course he was still that arrogant cocky motherfucker that you could not stand. The one who never cleaned up after himself. Or took too long in the shower for the hot water to run out. All of these evil perceptions you had of your roommate were disappearing as his lips were gently placed onto yours. It was a little too slow for your liking, but it was deep. Boy, was it deep. Each movement of his tongue was made with so much precision as he lowered himself onto you. His thighs were clenched, a soft groan could be heard against his lips as his groin pressed into you. Holy fuck, were you really doing this? It was so wrong. Everything in the world was saying to stop, stop this.

“Mm- wait,” you paused your hands on his chest to push him away, “wait.”

A flash of panic waved over his eyes as he quickly jumped off of you, face palming the floor.

“What’s wrong? Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you? Are you-”

“I’m fine,” you interjected, giggling at the never been seen care and caution he had for you, “I just don’t think we should do this.”

“Oh,” was all he could say. You kept your gaze lowered; looking at him would have made you feel so guilty. The feeling of regret started to seep into your bones, but you couldn't tell: was it regret of this ever happening, or was it regret from stopping? Your head was too muddled to even attempt to comprehend what had just appended. The only sound that could be heard was your scuffed footsteps, quickly pacing back to your room and shutting the door, hard. The loudest sigh known to earth could be heard on the opposite side of the room as you let your body collapse. The ache between your legs was growing by the second; and as much as you tried to suppress the feeling of Minho’s lips on yours, fingertips dragging along your sides. No. It was much easier this way. Setting boundaries as roommates seemed to be a better idea for the long run.

But the long run was boring. You would both have to pretend that this never happened. Having other people over for sexual purposes would just be awkward now; the more you thought about it, the realisation, and the jealousy hit that you had already crossed said boundary. And maybe that’s why your feet had dragged you to the front of his bedroom door. How the fuck did you get here? You brought your knuckles to the wooden frame, door becoming slightly ajar as you gently knocked. Minho’s snapped his head around, covering himself quickly as you walked in. You cocked your eyebrow, a face of confusion apparent on your face.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he huffed, turning back to his previous position, “what do you want?”

You wanted to just walk out. Mind your business and just leave. But it was hard, quite literally. The imprint of what you assumed to be Minho’s naked lower half painfully pressing into the sheer sheets that was covering him. He paid you no more attention, giving you all the power to initiate whatever it is you wanted to initiate. You slowly crept in beside him, nuzzling your head into the back of his neck as he groaned in annoyance.

“Y/n, what the fuck are you doing in my bed?”

“Hmm, I think I changed my mind,” you whispered, reaching around to grab him. A blunt hiss escaped Minho’s lips as your action made him turn around. He was so close to you now. So close that you could feel his breath spreading across your left cheek.

“Are you being serious right now?”

The look on his face was unimpressed to say the least.

“Yeah, I mean,” your voice was calm as your hand began to take flight, sliding down to the base of his shaft, “we’ve already crossed the line, let’s go a little further.”

“Oh yeah?” His voice was dripping with sarcasm. He grabbed you by the wrist that was currently on him, pulling it away and climbing on top of you. Both hands now leaving his side, securely attached onto both wrists as he pinned them down above your head. Nose clumsily tickling yours as he reattached his lips to yours. The feeling of his lips was much softer and calmer than before, almost like he was protecting you. Wanting to keep the moment so delicate, though the way his bare hips involuntarily grinding against your clothed core was far from it. A soft whimper came from your lips, vibrating against his. A soft chuckle was heard from Minho as he pulled away; it made you nervous. To be more specific, the way that arrogant, mischievous smirk that you knew all too well was spread across his face.

“You’re so responsive to me,” he growled, quickly planting another one on your lips before sliding down to your jaw, then your neck, stopping at your chest. Nothing needed to be said as you quickly discarded your shirt, silently thanking your past self for not wearing any underneath. Minho situated himself in front of your now bare chest, waist sitting against your heart as he took one nipple into his mouth, fingers enclosing around the other. A loud whine left your lips, back arching in reaction to him. He looked up, satisfied filling his body as you weren’t able to return his gaze, head already rolled all the way back as he continued his playful assault.

“It’s so cute,” he mumbled between kisses, “so responsive and I’ve barely done anything.”

His lips travelled down the center of your stomach, dipping dangerously closer to where you wanted him most. His continuous rhythm between kisses was immaculate. Any of the incoherent sounds you made, or the crude remarks he made were left unsaid.

“Fuck,” you hissed, painfully throbbing at the way Minho played with the waistband of your panties.

“Not fun to be teased y/n,’ he paused, making sure you were looking at him, “is it.”

A pang of guilt hit your chest for a moment. I mean, it’s not like you did it on purpose, right?

“Minho I’m-”

“Save it,” he scoffs, “whether you did it on purpose, or not, I’m not gonna let you have it so easily.”

His fingers stopped their performance across your hips, continuing a little lower than before. The smirk came to his lips once more, index finger running down your slit. The friction was fierce, but not fierce enough. You wanted, no, you needed more. All he could do was smile at your mercy.

“So fun to tease darling, but you’re gonna have to be more vocal if you want these panties off.”

“Minho please,” you whined, “for fucks sake.”

You bucked your hips forward, desperate for any more contact from the bare minimum he was giving you.

“That doesn’t sound very nice to me.”

“Minho please, please, please,” you whispered, voice becoming super weak, “fuck me, or finger me, anything please, I need to feel you.”

“Now that’s more like it,” he smiled, finally pulling your panties down. You have never lifted your hips faster in your life. The vulnerability of your naked body was somewhat confronting, but your brain was so fogged out from the immense teasing, you cared little.

“Fuck,” he gasped, spreading you effortlessly with two fingers, “you’re so wet for me, aren't you?”

The heat in your cheeks rose as you became embarrassed at his words. Minho didn’t know this, but feeling humiliated was something that could make you cum on the spot. Words intended for insult went through your ears and straight down to the core, the heat becoming like an intense fire igniting in your body as one of his hands moved along your inner thigh, the other gently beginning to circle around where you needed him most.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, “oh my god Minho please, more.” Your voice was becoming needier by the second, but the longer it went on, the less you seemed to care. His tongue was now a factor coming into play, small kitty licks lapping your clit at a suddenly fast pace. Your legs are already trembling, but Minho does more to appease, hooking his arms under and around your thighs to stop the flustered look on your face. It was confronting how quickly he was getting you to your high.

“Please,” you sighed, eyes hazed as you attempted to look down at the way his tongue was on you. The combination of him sucking on your clit, then pushing it through your entrance almost made you scream. However, the noises that came from your mouth were small, heavy pants, progressively getting louder and louder the tighter the knot in your stomach became.

“Do you wanna cum princess?” His voice was whiny, mocking the tone you had used earlier. You nodded ferociously, knowing any attempt to speak would come out horse or just broken.

“Such a good girl,” he purred, replacing his tongue with two fingers, “but if you want to cum, you’re gonna have to beg for it once more.”

“You’re such a fucking dick,” you groaned, an attempt of grinding your center onto Minho’s fingers failing miserably, “you’re being so unfair.”

“I’m unfair?” he scoffed, beginning his digits back to a bare minimum pace, “you’re the one

who was teasing me all night. I know Changbin is like, your best friend so there was no chance you were bringing him back to fuck him. Then you start to kiss me, hard and fast may I add, AND THEN ! you aren’t sure and you leave me to pretend like nothing happened.”

There was no witty comeback you could say in response because he was right. You were the one who has done the teasing for most of the night.

“You looked so fucked out right now baby,” his tone coming back to a calming medium, “begging for me to make you cum, which I can do right now,” he paused, climbing back to your side, lifting your left leg to continue his easy access to ur clit, “or you can beg even more to have my cock inside of you. The choice is yours.” You swallowed, hard. How could he say something so filthy? Out of all the times you had heard him bring other girls over, he would never talk like this. It was always so nice and calm, full of praise and compassion. Maybe they didn’t act like cock teases and let him just have what he wanted.

“C-cock,” you mumbled, pushing your backside against his now pulsating cock, “please give your cock sir.”

“Ooo sir, I like that one, but you’re gonna have to do more if you want me to fill you up princess.”

Words were becoming extremely hard to not only facilitate in your mind, but put them on your tongue and get out to him. He knew this. He knew your were on the brink of collapsing in cum, but the torture was too entertaining for him nonetheless. Although you're frustrated with him was increasing, you couldn’t lie to yourself that the way he was using you like a sex toy was turning you on. After being up his ass so long with rules around the house and how you wanted things done, it was nice to finally let go. Submit to his rules instead of yours.

“P-please Minho, sir’ you panted, head turning to look at the sadistic face of enjoyment he was having from this, “I’ll do anything, a-anything to have your cock inside of me right now.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

“Okay then tomorrow morning, you have to make me breakfast, AND wash my dishes.”

“Seriously,” you panted, “that’s what you're thinking about right now?”

“You said anything.” He shrugged, suddenly taking his fingers away from your dripping core. A gasp of disappointment came to your lips at the loss of delicious contact. Minho sat up, ducking under your leg, and positioning himself right back to where he was previously. However, this time, he was on his knees. Although you were touching it before, you really hadn't had a chance to look at how big it was: way more than what you expected. He stroked himself a couple of times, making sure not to get carried away with himself before he pushed it between your folds, letting his pre-cum mix with your juices. He slowly descended into you. Jaws dropping simultaneously, you gasped. The way he was stretching you out did burn a little bit, but once he was fully inside, your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Minho waited until the look of slight discomfort faded from your features.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded, biting down on your bottom lip and he slowly pulled himself back out. He kept a consistent, yet slow pace as leaned in closer to you. He was now hovering over, letting his face become buried into the middle of your breasts. The feeling was so immaculate, you were desperate to cling onto something for support.

“Dig them into me,” he groaned, strangling his vocal cords, “dig your nails into my back and scratch me like your life fucking depends on it.”

Perfect. You did as he pleased, a loud moan of his name wrestling from your lips as you felt the red marks appear on his backside. The pressure from before was already building in your stomach again, and he could tell. The way you were super tight for him was one, but the way you were now clenching around him was another. He knew he wouldn’t last much longer if you kept doing that.

“Fuck,” was all you could manage to say, a deep grin plastered on his face.

“You’re close aren't you,” he cooed, attaching his lips to your neck, “talk to me baby, tell me what you're feeling.

“Mhm, yeah, fuck I’m so close baby. H-Harder.”

The pitch of your tone was becoming whinier by the second. To add to that, the way you became confused, as if Minho was a vampire, because the way he was sucking on your neck was kind of painful. Nevertheless, you relished in it, knowing too well that a very, very dark mark would replace his mouth. The idea of him showing his possession of you, knowing that he finally won you over did not make you happy, nonetheless, you were too fucked out to care.

Your legs were now pushed all the way back, pace fastening by the minute, allowing Minho to push even deeper into you. And that was it. Right there, the spot you had never even known was even there.

“Ah fuck!” Your moan was loud this time, completely unable to control anything. The smirk, in combination with the satisfied growl that left his lips was a face of pure ecstasy as he realised that he had finally hit your G-spot.

“Fuck that feels so fucking good,” Minho grumbled, “are you close? Because I think I’m gonna cum.”

It was like your stomach was an orchestra. Minho’s words were the conductor, completely controlling how close you were to your release.

“Y-yes,” you cried, “I’m gonna cum so hard right now.”

“You wanna cum baby?”

“Yeah.”

“You wanna cum right now?”

“Yes baby,” you pouted, a perplexity of sounds escaping your lips, completely out of your control.

“Cum on my cock princess,” Minho whispered through what sounded to be like pained groans, “be a good girl and cum with me inside of you.”

And there it was, like it was on queue as your body completely flopped, legs shaking and a string of lewd curse words fell from your lips. The way your pussy clenched around him was enough to make him pull out, spilling into the dip of your stomach. A loud breath of what seemed to be exhaustion fell from his lips. Your eyes were previously screwed so shut, it hurt when you opened them again, sensitive to the light.

“Fuck,” you both cursed simultaneously, making one another giggle. Minho fell to your left side, flat on his back as he invited you to scooch over next to him. Face pressed against his chest, fingers playfully dragging up and down his torso. For some reason, he felt so safe and secure at this moment. Almost forgetting how he literally just fucked you into oblivion, your eyelids become heavy. It wasn’t until Minho spoke that you were revived from your alternate state of consciousness once more.

“I didn’t know you had it in you.” His voice sounded genuinely surprised, unsure if you should be offended or not. You looked up at him, quickly pressing a kiss to his cheek. He wasn’t sure how to react, but the dark shade tinting his face right now said enough.

“Please,” you scoffed, “You did me good, but was that the best you can do?”

He ran his tongue across his bottom lip, but down on it after, “Is that a challenge?”

You said nothing, instead sitting up and pushing your legs on either side of his hips. A soft moan escaped his lips as he felt your still dripping heat sitting on the base of him.

“Why don’t you find out and see?”

#lee minho #minho #leeknow #stray kids #lino #lee minho smut #skz smut #leeknow scenario #stray kids smut #stray kids scenario #dom leeknow #dom lee minho #dom lino #lino smut #ch4nb4ng

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kimnjss · 4 years ago

Text

how sticky | kth

⇢ pairing: ot7 x reader // taehyung focus. ⇢ genre: smut. // pwp. ⇢ word count: 7.6K ⇢ theme: established relationships. ⇢ rating: explicit. ⇢ warnings: cursing, dirty talk, poly relationship, handjobs, fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), public sex, outdoor sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up lovelies), all the boys wanna kiss yn, cum inside/stuffing, slight over stimulation if you squint. ⇢ A/N: literally this idea came to me while watching the first episode and seeing tae washes the dishes sooo, here you goo!! lmao x also if it seems messy or all over the place, that’s bc i wrote this while streaming dynamite and obvi got distracted .

Namjoon is the first to spot you, just as you're tugging your suitcase from the trunk of your car. The large grin that takes over his features as he makes his way over to you, brown hair flopping in the wind with each step he takes. A silver pot held in his hands that he must've forgotten the purpose of upon setting sights on you.

“You're here.” He says with a large smile, dimples showing while he leaning down to press a soft kiss to your waiting lips. “Did you eat?”

Just with one look around the backyard, you can tell that they just finished eating. Had hoped to arrive a bit earlier so you'd be able to eat with them. “Not yet,” He looked good, as usual, but oddly more attractive in this outdoor environment.

The blue two-piece outfit, which you had quickly realized was a favorite of his, hung loosely around his body. The muscles in his arms flexed as he kept his grip on the pot in his hand. Eyes turn to half-moons with the way he was smiling at you.

It had been a few weeks since you saw them last. What with their jam packed schedule and you keeping up with the things going on in your own life, there wasn't really time to be together the way you wanted. A constant long-distance relationship with the seven of them, even if they were only a few miles away.

Which was the biggest reason you were jumping on the chance to spend this week with them. Secluded with nothing to do but be together. It had been Jin who had suggested it, finding out that you had the same week free. What better way to spend it then with your boyfriends? Agreement coming from his younger members instantly and to your surprise, the staff was quick to agree as well.

Most times riddled a distraction, but it seemed that you being here sort of fit the relaxation, recharging theme of this entire trip. Zero complaints from you, of course, you were packing your bags the moment you got the green light.

“I'll make you a plate, wait.”

All of a sudden remembering he had been in the middle of doing something before seeing you. Quick steps are taken into the house with the pot in hand and you're right behind him, marveling at the huge land they had rented out for this. All of the greens of the mountains and grass was a pretty contrast to the bright blue sky, the sparkling lake that you couldn't wait to try out.

And there was so much stuff! Placed all over the place from where you can see, each item matching a different member's personality so well that you could guess who asked for what.

Joon is coming back, hands-free, but only to grab your suitcase, wheeling it into the house. He's gone talking to whoever is in the kitchen before he's returning, arm easily wrapping around your waist as he leads you down the hill.

“You came here looking refreshed,” He notes, finally saying out loud what he had been thinking since you were pulling the suitcase from the car.

Out of all of them, Namjoon seemed to pay a lot of attention to the way you looked. And no, not just the clothes you wore and how they fit – but like deeper. He paid a lot of attention to your facial expressions more than anything, reading your demeanor as if it was his latest page-turner.

A blessing and a curse, because although he knew when something was bothering you and tried his best to fix it without you saying a word. It was also really, extremely hard to hide things for him. Not that you tried to often.

“It was a nice drive and I'm excited to spend time with you guys,” The smile that takes over your features is causing a flutter in his heart, his large hand landing on your arm that you've wrapped around his torso – walking the rest of the way like that.

Jimin is whipping around at the sound of footsteps approaching, and you're eyes are widening at the sight of him. Unwrapping yourself from Joon's body, you're rushing the rest of your steps hands outstretched to touch the edge of the gat hanging from his neck.

“You actually wore it?” Speaking through a slight giggle and he's grinning, hands finding home on your torso as he playfully rolls his eyes. “Of course I wore it, so you better deliver,”

The result of a drunk game of Truth or Dare between the two of you. He spent the entire night choosing truth, but as soon as he was picking dare you were telling him to wear his new hanbok for the first day of shooting. He was agreeing with a roll of his eyes, boasting about how easy it was.

Then on your turn, he was hitting you with that sly grin of his. 'If I wear my hanbok for shooting, then you need to let me...' Words trailing off as he suggestively wiggled his eyebrows in your direction. You were quick to put two and two together of what he wanted. And you were agreeing because of course, you wanted it too.

With a distracted nod, your eyes are shifting to the moving figure behind him. “Of course, baby. Whatever you want.” Breaking from his grasp just as Namjoon is extending the full bowl in your direction.

You thank him with a wide smile, which he acknowledges with a short nod – going back to cleaning up while you take a seat at the table. Sat eating the food that you can tell was made by Jungkook as you watch your two men move around the yard until Joon is disappearing into the house again. Someone else exiting at the same time.

“I thought I heard your voice!” There's a smile in his voice that you can detect without having to listen very hard. And you're proven right as you lift your head, being met with Hoseok's bright smile. “When'd you get here?” He wonders once he's closer, taking the empty spot beside you.

“Not too long ago,” You speak through the mouthful of food in your mouth, the words you're speaking coming out a murmured mess.

The smile on Hoseok's face only grows, his hand lifting to push his hair back on his forehead. “I missed you.” A random confession that has heat rising in your cheeks. He always did this. Knew what a few simple words did to your mind and took pleasure in making you flustered whenever possible.

This time was no different. Just three words and you were forced to put extra focus on your noodles. He missed you. Obviously, you missed him – that's a given. But the fact that he, Jung Hoseok actually missed you and was just telling you about it casually. With that smile on his face. Yeah, he knew exactly what he was doing.

“I missed you too.” A delayed reply, but he's not faltering. Doesn't even think twice about what you could have been thinking about in the time it took you to answer. Instead, he's reaching his arm to wrap around your shoulders, pulling your body into his so he's able to press a dozen chaste kisses to the top of your head.

And then just like that, he's releasing you. Not even giving you a moment to react before he's standing from his spot beside you and moving to help Jimin clean up the outside area.

After the third time, you're asked to scoot over, you're standing feeling as though you're in the way of the cleaning. So, you go to find the others that you haven't seen yet. Thanks to a FaceTime call from Jungkook while they were going through the tour, you had a pretty good understanding of the layout of this place.

Heading over the hill to the Upper House, bowl in hand. And you're grinning when you spot Jin standing out front, staring at the line of delivered groceries in front of him. “Jinnie!” You're calling with a wave of your hand, and he's turning around.

“Yn!” He calls, just as loud – waving you over with one frantic hand.

Easily speeding up your footsteps, it's not long before you're standing in front of him. Arms wrapped around his torso in a tight hug. “What are you doing?” He's out of your hold now, bending to lift the bags off the ground.

“Putting groceries away.”

Following behind him, you shovel mouthfuls of noodles into your mouth while sinking down at the island. For a little while, you're able to enjoy your meal and engage in broken chatter was Jin moves in and out of the house.

He's filling you in on all the plans he has for this trip and the things he's excited about and you listen with a smile on your face. Loving the way he looks when he's completely in his element, eyes sparkling as he talks about being able to fish with Yoongi.

Speaking of Yoongi. Sauntering out from God knows where, white tee hanging loose – revealing a bit of his chest, baggy black jeans that you've now decided is the only thing you ever want to see him in. His hair is unkempt, laying messily over his forehead and only slightly covering his eyes.

There's a smirk on his face when he notices the blatant way you're gawking at him, sinking into the seat beside you – his cold hand not hesitating to reach for your thigh. “You're here?” He speaks in the bored uninterested drawl that you've become used to. Use to read too much into it before you were realizing that just the way he talked.

Now it had the ability to have heat rushing through your veins, especially if he was using that voice when telling you just exactly he wanted to do to you. Never failed to have you basically salivating, putty for him.

“I just came...” The patterns he draws on your inner thigh stills as he lifts his eyes to look at you, a chuckle falling from his lips. “Did you?” He asks teasingly and you're too dazed to pick up on the double meaning of your words.

His hand inches further up your thigh until the tips of his fingers are just inches from reaching the hem of your mesh shorts. Without a thought, your legs are opening for him – giving him as much room as he needs to do whatever he wants.

Yoongi's grinning at your compliance, his lips are just inches for yours. He takes a moment to study your features. Lips shiny with grease, cheeks slightly flushed, eyes staring unfocused. A slow grin lifts the corners of his lips moments before he's leaning in closer.

Yoongi kisses you once as if he's testing the waters before diving in. Grip tightening on your thigh, pulling your body closer to his while he slowly moves his mouth over yours. Soft tongue slowly tracing over your lower lip and you're instantly opening up for him.

The groan that leaves his lips from the feeling of your wet muscles meeting as arousal rushing through your veins and pooling between your legs, fingers reaching to grasp the rough material of his pants for some type of grounding.

And he grins, teeth gently tugging at your lower lip as his hand slides up your thigh toward your waist. So sure he's fingers are about to sneak underneath your shirt, so you giddily wait for the contact.

But it never comes. "Would you let the girl breathe, she just got here." Is what you hear.

Jimin, into the Upper House to change into something comfortable. And all too ready to scold his Hyung for trying something with you when it hasn't even been an hour. With a roll of those dark eyes of his, Yoongi is leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips – much different from what he had initially planned.

Moment ruined, he's standing from his spot beside you. “I'm gonna go help Jin,” He announces to no one in particular, cheeks darkened with pink from having been caught. Yoongi talked a big game, but he was the most private out of the boys. Wasn't one for an unwarranted audience and preferred to have you to himself rather than sharing you.

“Tae's washing dishes if you're done with that.” He's jutting his chin out to point at your empty bowl on the island. As he speaks, he undoes the tie of his top letting it sag at his shoulders before he's shrugging it off. And you watch his fingers carefully, allowing your mind to wander to just how skilled he was with those fingers.

Playing the same notes for the past eight years on the piano wasn't the only thing he was good at. It's a moment before you register his words enough to stand to your feet, plucking your plate up and exiting the Upper House to find Taehyung.

Back to you as he scrubs the inside of the bowl, you watch as his hips sway to whatever song he's got going in his head. No idea that you're entering the kitchen or that you've arrived – just in his own world.

Taehyung looks handsome even from the back.

His broad shoulders were still visible underneath the brown top that was just so him. He wore a pair of olive green shorts, giving you a perfect view of his strong legs and the way they flexed with the movement of his feet. Thoroughly riled up from Yoongi's interrupted touches from before, you're struck with a very mischievous thought.

Light steps are taken in Taehyung's direction, quickly setting your bowl in the sink before reaching your arms to wrap around his waist. Palms sneaking underneath the fabric of his shirt so you're able to touch his soft belly. You feel him still against you, taking a moment to put together that it's you back hugging him like this.

He's turning just enough so he can look down at you, a large smile spread across his lips as his eyes take in your face that looks brighter for some reason. “How long have you been there?” Tae tries to hug you back but gives up because of the awkward position.

“Not long,” You answer, nose pressed in the dip of his back after he's turned. Your lips place soft kisses against his covered back, the tips of his fingers brushing over the skin of his stomach. “I missed you.”

And you had. There was just something about Taehyung that drove you crazy with little to no effort. Had to be his aura. The way he carried himself. The unreadable expression that always decorated his features. How he was able to smile with his entire face, pulling large smiles on the lips of the people around him.

All of that and the simple fact of how well the boy could fuck. Of course, all of the guys knew how you make you feel good. All in their own ways, different and unique and still good. But Taehyung. Fuck, Kim Taehyung. A living Sex God, with a thick long cock that he knew how to use. Long fingers that could bring you to climax over and over again with very little time in between. And that mouth. God, that mouth.

Porn stars would blush at the dirty things that came out of that boy's mouth.

Taehyung's eyebrow is lifting at the mindless way your fingers are dipping lower down his body, flinching just slightly when the tips of your fingers are grazing his quickly hardening cock. “That type of missed me, huh?” He's grinning, you can tell without having to see his face.

Head nodding slightly, you continue placing gentle kisses against his back – fingers drawing teasing lines over his cock through the fabric of his shorts. “Don't be a tease,” He hisses.

His wet, glove covered hand is wrapping around your wrist – forcing more of his cock underneath your palm. A soft moan falls from your lips at the feeling of it twitching with the new friction. Tae's hips rock slowly with the movement of your hand, half of his attention still on the dishes he washes.

And you pout. Want to turn his mind to mush like he's done to you many times before. Until the only thing he can think about is you and how you're making him feel. Fuck the dishes.

Even on your tiptoes, you're only able to reach the nape of his neck. But it's the first bit of bare skin you're able to press your lips against so you settle for it. Leaving open mouth kisses on it while your fingers slowly make their way underneath the waistband of his shorts.

Pleased to find he had decided to forego underwear, you're instantly met with the warmth of his shaft. A low cruse falling from his lips when your cool palm is wrapping around him. And you hold it there. Waiting to hear the scoff that falls from his lips as he starts to rock his hips again – his cock sliding through your grip easily.

The sound of his breathy groans fills the kitchen, egging you on. You can feel him growing harder in your hand and the slow drag of his hips is quickly driving you crazy until you're giving in to the tiny game you were playing and moving your hand.

“Oh, fuck.” Tae hisses, the dish he had been holding crashing into the sink as his fists reach to grip the edge of the sink. Voice gruff and it's usual deep, it has a wash of arousal flooding your body and fueling your movements. Free hand lifting to grasp his hipbone, holding him steady as you bring your hand up toward his tip.

A simple swipe of your thumb over his bulbous has a shiver running down his spine and a grin pulling on your lips. Strokes on his shaft speeding up as the sound of his breathy groans tickled your ears. Hips stuttering underneath your grasp in an attempt to take more than what you were willing to give him.

Always so greedy.

“Does it feel good?” Voice hushed where he can just barely hear.

Taehyung is quick to nod his head, though. “Your hand feels so good on me, Yn. Faster,” He whines, something that you're not quite used to hearing from him. Especially over a simple handjob.

He must've missed you a lot more than he was willing to admit.

And because your soul purpose is to give Taehyung any and everything he asks for, you're rubbing down on him quicker, squeezing him a bit harder. His cock twitches and jumps in your hold and you're fastened by the effect you have on him that your grip on his hip is loosening – allowing him to freely roll his hips upward.

A strong arm is reaching back while his body twists, large glove covered hand tangled in your hair to hold your head steady. For the first time, you're getting a good look at his face. Eyes blown and unfocused, his cheeks flushed and lips bitten. He looks so sexy staring at you as if it's taking all his restraint not to devour you.

The way he leans in, crashing his lips into yours for a sloppy hungry kiss only validates your thoughts. Grip tightening in your hair to hold your head still while his tongue tickles the roof of your mouth.

You try, desperately, to keep your focus on the movement of your hand. Letting him lick into your mouth and kissing him just as much as you can without completely losing your mind. Taehyung, like his six other teammates, worked really well with his mouth. In all ways.

He's nibbling on your lower lip, harsh breaths exiting his nostrils as your thumb runs over the underside of his cock. So close and you can tell from the now frantic roll of his hips. And you're more than ready to bring him there, loved watching him fall apart for you, because of you.

More than ready to have him explode in your palm so you can like it up when the sharp knock on the glass behind you is stilling your movements. Head turning to peak behind you, but Taehyung does stop his head tilting so he's able to suck wet hickeys into your warm skin.

Hoseok stands on the other side of the door, looking extremely impatient. You move to pull your hand from his pants, but Taehyung is quick to grasp your wrist. “Yn, I swear to God.” He speaks through gritted teeth and you're flashing a bright smile up at him.

“It's Hobi,” There's another knock on the glass, “He can't just stand out there,” Laughing, you manage to wiggle yourself out of Taehyung's grasp. He watches you with squinted eyes as you pull the door open for his Hyung.

Cued in on what had been keeping you, a teasing smirk plays on his lips. “What? You're just in here giving Taehyungie all the attention?” Both hands knit into your hair from underneath, slowly closing the space between you two.

“He's working hard in here,” You defend with a slight pout. Upon realizing he wasn't going to be getting off any time soon, Tae turns his attention back to the dishes. Scrubbing the gunk off with much for strength than needed, quiet grumbles leaving his lips.

“I worked hard too, cleaned up outside all by myself. What do I get?” Lips a mere inches from yours, all you'd have to do was lift up onto your tiptoes to feel their softness. “I saw Jiminie helping you.”

Hoseok is rolling his eyes at the slight detail. You're teasing him, he can tell from the way you're gripping his shirt in your fists. Like you're desperate to feel him but at the same time seeing how much you can hold back.

What you failed to realize was, he was much better at teasing than you. Without a second thought, he's leaning down to press his lips against yours. Kiss much different from Taehyung's. More controlled. More intense. Strong hands reach for your thighs, easily lifting your body off of the floor and setting you to sit on the countertop.

He's taking up space between your legs, large hands set on your thighs while he sucks your lower lip into his mouth. You can feel the smirk that plays on his lips from the sound of your moan.

Hoseok responds by reaching back to give your ass a firm squeeze, pulling your body toward his. He's hard. You can feel it through the fabric of his neon shorts, but the moment you're angling your hips to feel more of him – he's pulling back.

“Jimin should finish up, hm?” Recalling your earlier comment with a teasing glint in his eye. Planting a soft kiss to your lips, he backs away attention now on Namjoon who had entered with a bag of groceries. As if nothing had happened.

Body buzzing and senses fogged, you're left to wonder just how many times you'd be denied the release you craved.

The two men chatted amongst each other mindlessly, surveying the contents of the fully stalked fridge in front of them. Joon is pulling a bottle of coffee from the bunch, handing it over to you with a soft smile before twisting the cap on his own. You watch as he wraps his plump lips around the edge, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows the liquid down.

Plopping down on the soft red cushion, you watch as Joon moves to offer Tae a sip of his drink. Which he's denying with a pout of his lips. From where you're sitting, you can see that his bulge has gone down a bit – but the foggy need for sexual release stays. You know the feeling. Had half the mind to get on your knees for him right then and there, not like either of them would complain.

They did share you, at times. And those were the times that you secretly hoped for each time you were being interrupted with one of them. But, all of them were so different from their interests and really liked the idea of being alone with you – it didn't happen as often as you'd like.

You could simply suggest it and no doubt they'd agree to the idea. Ready to do whatever you asked to fill your desire. But you liked the surprise of not knowing just when you'd be taking two cocks, or three, or maybe even four. All seven if the weather was right. The suspense had a great effect on you.

Jimin is entering the main house just as halfway through drinking your chilled coffee. Fully changed out of his hanbok, standing in a pair of loose-fitting black shorts and a white SAINT LAURENT tee. Dark hair floppy messily at the top of his head, evident that he's been running his fingers through it.

He looked good enough to eat and if he kept looking at you with those bedroom eyes, you were about to do just that. Beeline made in your direction, settling in the spot beside you. An innocent hand lands on your thigh and your brain short circuits, registering it as anything but.

Without a word, he's reaching for your bottle, taking a long sip from it before licking the drip from his lips. “Where's Kookie?” You ask, forcing your thoughts not to wander too much. And realizing you had yet to see that bunny smile of his, hear the cute way he say's 'Noona' as he wobbles in your direction.

The same age as Namjoon which made you older than Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook – yet Jungkook was the only one out of the three that actually referred to you as Noona. No matter how many times you'd tell him to speak comfortably with you, he'd refuse with blushed and a shake of his head.

The others believed he got off on it, the subtle reminder that you were older than him but he was still able to turn you to make you fall apart with the simple flex of his thigh. “You haven't seen him?” Hoseok speaks with his head inches deep in the fridge and you shake your head despite the fact he cannot see you.

“He’ll come running the moment he hears you're here,” Deciding that your drink is his now, Jimin stands from his spot beside you heading further into the house. Steps cut off by Jungkook turning the corner, as if on cue.

“What!?” A large grin on his lips as his sparkling eyes land on you. Soft hair bouncing as he skips over to you, leaning over the counter so you're face to face. Tattooed hand reaching forward to enclose the back of your neck, gently pulling you forward until your foreheads are touching. “You didn't tell me you were here, Noona.” Eyebrow arched and head tilted to the side.

You can barely see his face with how close you are to it, but there's no doubt that he looks attractive as hell right now in his attempt to be intimidating. Lower lip poking out in a slight plea, “I'm sorry, baby. I was asking about you, though.”

Jungkook only half listens to your words. Some space put between you and he takes advantage of that by allowing his eyes to take in your appearance greedily. Aware of the warmer temperature, you had decided a simple v-neck crop top would suffice. From this angle, he could see straight down your top. And he was doing very little to hide the fact that he was looking, respectfully.

“I'm sure you can think of some ways to make it up to me. Right, Noona?” Hand slipping from the back of your neck, the tips of his fingers brushing over the collar of your shirt. Lips suddenly dry, your tongue is jutting out to wet them. Thighs squeeze together instinctively at the promise his words held.

A contrast to his demeanor, Jungkook is placing a sweet kiss on your lips. One that lingers for a second shorter than you want, but the small smile on his lips upon pulling away is enough to make your heart melt.

All at once, he's releasing you and moving on to follow Jimin out of the kitchen. Taehyung is finishing up he dishes at the same moment, shaking his hands of the water droplets before wiping the excess onto his shorts.

Alone in the room with him again and you feel the atmosphere shift as soon as his eyes settle on you. Finally able to get a good look at you and taking in just how short your shorts are and how thin the material of your top is. But Taehyung is a gentleman when he wants to be.

His hand rests on your back, the tips of his fingers brushing against the bare skin your shirt leaves exposed. “Want to go for a walk?” Teeth biting into his plump lower lip. Instantly, you're sliding from your seat head nodding at his words.

Taehyung's arms wrap around your waist, pulling your body into his chest and you just faintly see the grin on his face before you're being enveloped in his sweet scent. Guided steps are taken into the game room where Namjoon sits, a laugh leaving his lips at the weird way the two of you are walking.

“What are you making?”

“A boat,” Joon says with a wide smile, lifting the plastic boat to show you. Cutie. Impatient, Taehyung is pushing his hips forward into yours. Even through the layers and with the small fact that he's not exactly hard at the moment – you can still feel his bulge against your ass cheek.

But he doesn't stop there, slowly dragging his hips up so you can feel his entire length. A strangled gasp is leaving your lips that has Taehyung smirking, Namjoon too focused on whether or not he just broke his model, doesn't notice.

Arms tightening around your waist, Taehyung takes a step forward – urging you to do the same.

When Tae said he wanted to take you on a walk, he wasn't speaking in sexual innuendos. You had actually gone for a walk around the land. Hand in hand making comfortable chatter as you soaked in the nice weather.

Somehow, you managed to convince yourself that he hadn't been itching to get you alone to fuck you – but really just wanted to spend some time alone with you. It's sweet when you think about it. The gentle way he's talking to you about the nervousness that surrounds working on his new mixtape. His soft thumb brushing over your knuckles as you assure him that everything will turn out alright.

It's not until you're reaching the picnic table just a few feet from the water, is he wrapping his arm around your hips. Lifting you from the ground as if you weighed nothing and setting you down on the table.

Blunt nails lightly dragging over the back of your knees as he gently spreads your legs so he's able to stand in the middle of them. He's easily hooking your legs around his waist, ankles instantly locking to pull him closer to you. “You know what I want to do right now?”

“What?” You humor him, even though you could probably guess. Arms lifting to wrap around his neck, head tilting to the side as a slight smirk plays on your lips. His mouth hovers over your ear, wet brushing over the shell of it as he speaks.

“Wanna taste that sweet little cunt. Bet you're already soaked from all the attention you've been getting.” To prove his point, Tae's fingers trail up between your thighs. Your body shudders as he drags a single digit over your slit through the fabric.

He wasn't wrong, had started to feel the heat pool between your legs when Yoongi first kissed you. Mind driving you insane with being able to be with them for this entire week. All of them. It was safe to say it had gotten to you in a very obvious way.

Not one to tease, Taehyung is using his long fingers to push both your shorts and panties to the side so his fingers can press against your bare skin. A surprised gasp leaving your lips with the nudge on your clit, hips bowing toward him. He grins.

“Gonna be a good girl for me?” He's a little breathless, but his fingers never falter. A single digit slipping past your folds and pushing through your walls. “Shit.” He chuckles at the enthusiastic way you nod your hand, tongue rolling over his lips before biting down. “Yeah? Gonna cum all sloppy on my tongue, baby? Let me hear you.”

At the end of his words, his thumb is pressing into your clit, rolling it around lazily as his finger moves slowly inside of you. “Y-yes-” Words breaking on a loud whine, he slows his fingers – waiting. “Wanna cum on your tongue, Tae... p-please.” Hips lifting to rock into his hand but he's pulling back, leaving you feeling empty.

It doesn't last long because he's quick with lifting your leg. Fingers wet with your arousal and wrapped around your thigh, bringing it up to his shoulder. Tae lowers himself to his knees in front of you, at the same time pushing the useless material aside before diving in.

Taehyung watches you through his long eyelashes while dragging his tongue along your folds. Always loved the way you looked when he was between your legs. The way you tried to keep your eyes open to watch him, biting your lip in an attempt to keep quiet, fingers tangling in his hair – holding him close. Hot.

Tongue dragging up to flick against your clit, Taehyung reaches for your other ankle. Lifting your leg over his shoulder so he's completely enclosed by your legs. Plush lips wrap around your bundle of nerves, sucking gently while he's pushing two fingers past your walls.

“Oh! Tae, fuck...” Panting at this point, grip in his hair used to pull him tighter against you. His free hand reaching around to sneak underneath the hem of your shorts, palming your ass while pulling you closer. Fingers angled to brush against the sweet spot inside of you, loving the way you squirm underneath him.

Just faintly, you can see the outline of his hard cock through his shorts. Straining against the fabric begging for some attention. Having you spread out for him, hearing those pretty moans fall from your lips is enough to drive anyone mad. And it doesn't help that Tae's been waiting for this for weeks.

Sharp teeth nip at your clit just as he's pushing another finger inside of you. “Taehyung!” You're crying out, in half pleasure – but also a warning. If he continued like this you'd be cumming before even getting to feel him inside of you.

“Close, baby?” His words are delivered into your throbbing cunt, sending vibrations through your body that has your back arching. Fingers tightening in his hair as you grind your hips desperately into him.

So close you can practically taste it, no longer able to worry about not being able to feel him. Just chasing your release. A breathy chant of 'keep going' falling from your lips as you hold his head in place.

Heat spreads throughout your body, a dull ache starting in your core and spreading throughout your body. Walls clenched so tight around his fingers that it's almost hard for him to pull back, so he doesn't, instead pushes deeper – pressing all three fingers against your sweet spot. In that exact moment, his lips are wrapping around your clit, sucking harshly and you feel the band snap.

Body tightening and legs shaking as incoherent curses fall from your lips. Taehyung watches your pretty eyes roll back, head tipping too. And once he's sure you're at the peak of your climax, he's pulling his fingers from inside of you and standing to his feet. Quick with fishing his cock from inside his shorts, you just barely notice the absence before you're being filled again.

A drawn-out whine falls from your lips at the new stretch, a thick groan from his from the tight squeeze. The wetness from your release makes it easy for him to move, though and he's thankful – too eager to wait longer than a few seconds to have you.

Your fingers struggle to find something to grasp as he ruts against you in an almost brutal pace. Each snap of his hips pushing your body further up on the table, only for him to drag you back down toward him. Loud cries and incoherent sentences fall from your lips that you're sure anyone in a 50-mile radius could put together what the two of you are doing.

Taehyung loves it, though. It's like fuel to his ever-growing ego. Chants of his name falling from your pretty lips, nails clutching at the fabric of his shirt as you beg for him. Just the knowledge he's able to make someone like you, like this. Yeah, he loves it.

“Fuck. This greedy little cunt,” He nearly grunts, eyes flashing up to take in your fucked out expression. His thumb is easily finding your clit through the wet mess between your legs, rubbing it slowly. “You wanna cum again? All over my cock this time?”

A frantic bob of your head and a whiny 'please' is prompting him to reach for your hips. Easily, he's lifting your body from the table, securing your legs around his waist. His hips rut against yours with much more fervor in this standing position. And you attempt to meet his thrusts but you're so delirious that all you can manage is a lazy bounce.

Arms wrapped around his neck and face buried in the crook of his neck, your walls squeeze around him as you feel the pressure build in your stomach again. Sloppy, wet kisses sucked into his skin. Teeth scraping against the tanned flesh before you're crying out your orgasm, body shaking in his arms.

You're positive if it weren't for the rough grip he has on your ass, you'd be sprawled out on the floor from the power of it. Taehyung fucks you through the entire thing, not slowing down until he feels his own release approaching, just second after yours. Thighs tightening and thrust becoming sloppy while he pulls your body down tighter against his.

The feeling of his thick ropes of cum coating your insides has your senses waking up, that paired with the slow drag of his cock inside of you has your legs stiffening again. Hips rocking slowly against his as another tiny orgasm washes over you. So small Taehyung wouldn't have noticed it if he hadn't been paying attention – but of course, he was.

“Did you just cum again?” He says with a laugh, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Lips sucked into your mouth to hide the sheepish grin that fought to take over your features. “It felt good... you cumming, inside.”

A triumphant grin takes over his features and he's leaning down to press a lingering kiss to your lips. “Let's keep it in then,” He's mumbling against your mouth and you're not sure what he means until he's pulling out – fingers quick to meet your entrance, pushing his cum back inside of you.

Body twitching with overstimulation, but you let him stuff you with his cum, not able to deny how hot it was. Especially the look of concentration on his face, careful not to miss a drop. Once he's satisfied, he's secured your shorts back in place patting his hand over your crotch playfully.

“You better keep it in there, too. Gonna fuck it out of you later,” He promises with a large grin, head tilting up to nibble at your jaw. He's got one hand resting on the curve of your ass, the other gripping your thigh. Zero plans to put you down any time soon, loving the way you're wrapped around him.

He'd stay like this with you forever if he wasn't for the distance shout he's hearing from the main house. Trying to ignore it and praying that you don't hear it, but as it grows louder your ears are perking up.

“Taehyung-ah!” It's Namjoon's voice and you're immediately pulling back when you register it. “Think Joon is looking for us,” You say through a giggle, the kisses he's leaving on your skin starting to tickle.

“He'll give up.” Tae murmurs, trailing a wet line of kisses down the length of your neck. And you almost agree with him, but you hear Namjoon call again and figure it would be best to just go see what he wants. So, despite Taehyung's reluctance, you're unwrapping your legs from around him.

“Or we can go see what's up.” Taehyung's changing his tune once he's realizing you weren't going to change yours.

His arm is easily sliding around your waist, pulling your body into his as the two of you make your way back into the main house. It's a little weird walking with his cum stuffed inside of you. Like a subtle heaviness between your legs that you just barely go without noticing. And if you moved too fast you could feel a bit of it start to trickle out, forcing you to pay much more attention to your movements than usual.

When the two of you are reaching the sliding door, it's locked. Your other six men are sat in the room, snickers falling from their lips with one look at your frazzled state and the fact that you're locked out.

“Ooh, what were you guys doing out there?” You can hear Hoseok's teasing tone through the glass. As if it weren't obvious. As if they didn't hear what you guys were doing out there.

Taehyung doesn't miss a beat, hand dropping down to grasp your ass. “Stuffed her full of my cum.” He says with a wide grin that has hollers of amusement falling from their lips. “Tae!” You're gasping, face heating up as you lift your arm to punch at his shoulder.

“What it's true?” Sparkling eyes turned to you, lips shaped in a soft pout that you'd lean up and kiss if you weren't sure it'd have a glob of his cum rolling down your leg.

Namjoon, your perfect little angel, is the one to pull the door open. And you're thanking him as you walk past, carefully taking the vacant spot beside Jungkook. “Do you really have cum in you, Noona?” He wonders. Eyes dark while a curious hand reaches to brush over the waistband of your shorts.

“Only a little bit,” Fingers lifting to just barely pinch your fingers together to show him. “Prove it,” He says with a tad bit of playfulness in his tone, tugging at your shorts just slightly.

You have half the mind to do just that. The thought lingering in your mind long enough for both Hoseok and Yoongi to notice. Intrigued, Hobi waits to see if you'll actually do it – but Yoongi speaks up before the tension can grow any thicker.

“We're choosing rooms,” Changing the subject completely acting as if an eight-way orgy wasn't just on the table. “Oh, right!” Joon, who had been subtly watching to see if you take Kook's dare is all of a sudden the reason he had gathered everyone.

A few moments are granted for conversation to bounce around the room, choosing where they'll sleep for the next seven days. And once they've settled their arrangements, attention is back on you – but for an entirely different reason now.

“Noona can share the floating house with me,” Jungkook is saying with a wide grin, keying you in on the fact that this conversation had been going on a bit longer than you had been paying attention.

With a quick nod of your head, you're assuring the young boy that you'll share the room with him. “I figured I'd just bounce around? If you guys don't care.” Much easier that way, whoever wanted you to spend the night in the room – you would. But to keep things tidy, you'd keep your stuff in the floating house with Jungkook.

“Of course we don't care-” Jin starts, but his words are being cut off by Taehyung's haste. “My room first!” Hand raised in a cute schoolboy raised, the look that he pins you with washes all remnants of the word cute out of your mind, though.

With a thick roll of his eyes, Namjoon's standing. “If she wants to. You choose, baby.” His attention now on you and the pet name has shivers running down your spine. There was just something about the way Joon called you 'baby' that had you keening.

He doesn't act on it, though. Not right now. And neither do you. One by one, they each break off to do their own thing until dinner time. You find yourself following Jin out to the dock after hearing he was going to fish for a little bit. You had gone on quite a few fishing trips with him, never did it but liked to keep him company when he went.

It's hard to ignore how at ease you feel here, with them. Not a single worry in mind in this secluded spot with your favorite guys. Where they're able to be themselves and be with you and be happy. Thankful that you were able to join them. And so ready to be apart of the memories this next week holds.

No matter how sticky.

- seven days in the forest spent with your seven boyfriends while they film their upcoming reality tv show. there’s no telling what the eight of you will get into when the cameras are off.

masterlist ⤐

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beemers-hell · 3 years ago

Note

((What music I think your ocs listens to based on what they looks like,,, tell me if I got something right))

Eb listens to hyperpop. This is a statement, non-negotiable.

Bank likes webcore and the SCP-3005 roblox game soundtrack. (And hyperpop but like less then Ebony)

I think Boxxy listens to five finger death punch and the call of duty:black ops - zombies OST

Allison looks like she listens to Studio killers and literally nothing else

Leti is a little more open and listens to studio killers AND paramore

Raina looks like she had a punk phase and never left (Green Day, mcr)

I have a sneaking suspicion that Fumei listens to slipknot but just,,, quietly

Shinda listens to doja cat

Yume looks like she listens to classic rock! And otacore ((and the SCP-3005 roblox game soundtrack,,,))

Ikute listens to fukin Red Hot Chili Peppers,,,

I think Bank just overall likes chill game OSTs ((such as Pesterquest/Hiveswap OST, the Minecraft sound track and maybe the Madoka Magica soundtrack,,,))

I'd say these guesses are pretty good estimates!

Eb's music tastes are mostly within the realm of alt and nu metal, whatever the hell ICP's considered, and some pop music for flavoring. I definitely think hyperpop's a good fit for her, I should get on adding that to her playlist lmao.

Which, I've made one for her! As well as Bank and Boxxy. Boxxy's is a bit of a WIP atm cause I just made it, but Eb and Bank's are pretty solid. Here's the links:

Eb's Napster Account

Bank's mp3 Player

Boxxy's Myspace Page

Anyway,

Bank's tastes are fairly accurate. She likes funky music, I wouldn't necessarily say webcore, more in the lines of EDM and City Funk, and she's actually the one most into otacore! She also listens to indie music and bedroom pop, and some alt rock occasionally. Sad girl hours lmao

Boxxy most definitely listens to hard shit, but I think she's mostly into really hyper, really manic, really wack ass music, ESPECIALLY if that music is HARD on the bass. Intense bass is like ecstasy on her eardrums.

Yeah Allison listens to Studio Killers lmfao. She also would listen to stuff like hip hop and reggaetón, and on a completely different side, shit like horrorcore!

Leti is mostly into 90's alt rock and folk. She also frequently listens to classic Spanish tunes, but that's a thing her, Allison, and Ben share together.

Raina is a fucking punk and she listens to a lot of emo and punk classics. However, she's also really into hip hop and rap. As well as house music. And, being the gamer she is, she of course is massively into Video Game OSTs of all kinds. Also she's a piano player and loves classical pieces. She's a fucking paradox

Fumei's a hardcore rock and metal lover! In fact He, Ikute, and Shinda all are! Ikute is more of a bigger fan of Slipknot than Fumei is, but he still enjoys them. He's more into stuff like Metallica and Rob Zombie. And he also really likes classic rock, I'd say he's a bigger fan of Red Hot Chili Peppers than Ikute is lol. He also has a bit of flavoring in his tastes cause he's also really into ska and like, stoner surfer ass music, Sublime is def one of his fav groups.

I think Shinda does listen to Doja but I don't think she's much a listener of her genre. Like I said before, she's more about Rock and Metal. However, she's also really big on Video Game OSTs like Raina is. Mostly Sonic OSTs. She is a diehard Sonic fan lmao

I don't need to repeat it with Ikute, I already said the thing. Anyway, he also fucking loves EDM and dubstep. Dude makes that shit himself and he's pretty good at it tbh

Yume like indie stuff, she likes EDM but not as much as Ikute, and she likes J-pop and chiptune. Her taste is kind of similar to Bank so I won't repeat the same things, she's just into mostly sad/numbing music. She also loves certain game OSTs! She probably listens to the Silent Hill 3 soundtrack a lot.

#beemer asks #beemers lore #beemers ocs #slash pos

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juniorgman187 · 4 years ago

Text

About Time (Reid Fic)

Summary: Reader’s offer to help Morgan renovate one of his properties makes Spencer jealous enough to confess what he never could before.

A/N: I try to avoid specific Reid eras in my works so that it can be up to you how you imagine him, but please just imagine seasons 1 or 2 Spencer - I’m telling you it’ll make the experience richer. Also, I might improve this fic in the near future bc I’m not entirely happy with it. Category: Drabble, Fluff Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: None Word Count: 2.5k Playlist: Would You Be So Kind by Dodie

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

Clink … Clink … Clink …

The repetitive noise was barely discernible at first, then it became all that I could focus on.

In an attempt to find the source, I looked up from my paperwork and scanned the room. It only took me half a second to discover that Morgan was the culprit.

From across the round table, I watched as Derek absentmindedly stirred his coffee and sugar together, making a ‘clink’ noise each time his spoon hit the rim of the cup. This wouldn’t have been bothersome had it not persisted for more than 10 minutes which, by all accounts, is plenty of time for the sugar to dissolve.

“Derek… ” I sort of sang, trying to capture his attention as nicely as possible.

“Derek.” I repeated, this time a little less quietly and a little more sharply. Still, my voice did nothing to stop the noisy stirring of his coffee. I stayed silent for a second, just in case he finally noticed I was speaking to him, but when he didn’t, I gave a concerned look to Spencer beside me as if to ask if he was seeing what I was and he returned just the same expression of confusion.

That’s when I knew something was wrong.

“Derek!” I said even louder, finally catching his attention.

His head snapped in my direction, his ghost-like countenance falling away after looking directly at me. I was relieved to see proof of life had been regained behind his eyes. The abrupt reaction made me squint harder in his direction to decipher what was truly going on. “Is everything okay? You were kind of zoning out just now.”

He sighed while rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “It’s nothing. I just had a late night last night and I didn’t go to bed till three this morning.”

“Oh?” I asked coyly. “And what was her name?” I brought my mug to my lips to hide my growing smirk behind the rim.

He didn’t catch on right away, which to me was more than enough evidence that he wasn’t well. He was usually the first to be aware of an innuendo, maybe even the one to be making it. “Whose name?”

“The girl that kept you up till three this morning.” I mimicked his voice in crude yet playful imitation.

To this, he shook his head and rolled his eyes with a grin. “Alright, get your pretty lil’ head out of the gutter, Kitten. I was busy fixing up a property I got down in Emporia. Lost track of time. That’s all.”

Whether or not he was hiding something more, I didn’t care anymore. He’d piqued my interest in this new topic. “Emporia? That’s like 2 or 3 hours away.”

His eyebrows lifted in agreement. “Yeah, like I said - late night.”

Not even trying to tempt him with my words, I simply remarked, “But I mean it can’t be that hard though, right? Fixing up the house?”

There was no verbal response from him, only a mirthless chuckle.

I was less careful with my words than I should’ve been, letting them flow through my mouth without filtering them first. “I’m just saying, I worked with Habitat For Humanity for years. We built thousands of houses from scratch, each of them within a matter of days.”

He sat up in his seat and leaned forward to assert himself. It was nearly the same mannerisms he would display in an interview when he wanted to maintain dominance. “Well, that’s because you got how many people working on one house?”

When I didn’t answer, he simply tapped the table and leaned back comfortably in his seat, prematurely relishing in a self-proclaimed victory. “Yeah, exactly. Whereas, it’s just little ol’ me fixing up these properties.”

“Okay, then I’ll help you.”

He only snickered in response, lending way for me to believe he didn’t trust that I’d provide any sort of productive assistance.

“I will!” I insisted. “Since you’re so convinced those houses were only built as fast as they were because it was a group effort, I want to prove to you that it’s actually because I’m just a fast worker.”

“It’s not a race, Kitten. All I said was it took me a while to fix up the house. I don’t need you to help. And I wouldn’t be paying you even if you did, by the way.”

“Oh, I’m not doing this for money,” I reasserted. “I’m doing this for pride. I know I’m right, and I want you to know it, too.”

It’s worth mentioning that Derek and I made these kinds of bets all the time. Our friendship was practically built on the foundation of competition. The first interaction I ever had with him was when he came up to me while I was arranging my desk to ask what I thought the odds were that he could toss his paper ball into the trashcan across the bullpen.

Years Ago . . .

“What are the chances I’ll make the shot?” I heard a deep, unfamiliar voice inquire from behind me.

“You’re aiming for the trashcan all the way over there? No way.” This voice I knew was Elle’s. She’d been the second person to introduce herself to me and if I had to guess, the deeper voice belonged to the guy I recalled sitting diagonally from her. I made eye contact with him when I initially walked in, but he hadn’t taken the time to introduce himself to me, nor I to him. He seemed a little preoccupied … making a paper ball and all.

“Actually, if Morgan’s throw had specific arc, the trajectory of the ball would -”

“He’s not making it, Reid.” Elle cut off the small, almost mousy voice promptly, shutting down any ‘pro-Morgan-making-the-shot’ argument he was about to make.

You could get a lot from just listening. Some might call it eavesdropping, but I like to call it being observant, and from what I’d observed

A) The one throwing the ball was Morgan.

B) The smart-sounding one was Reid.

C) Reid was a proponent of Morgan, so I could assume they were close friends.

D) There were three very distinct, very different personalities in this general vicinity of desks alone.

“O’ ye of little faith! Gimme a break, Elle. You’re just busting my balls ‘cause Reid came to me about Lila before he came to you.”

“That has nothing to do with the fact that I’m right.”

“No, but it means you have bias.” Derek retorted.

“Fine then. If it means that much to you to have an unbiased opinion, let’s ask someone impartial - like Anderson.”

“Actually, I have a better idea,” The deep voice said as soon as I’d placed the last item on my desk - a stack of sticky notes in the shape of a cat’s face that’d been gifted to me the moment I exited the elevator by Penelope Garcia.

“Excuse me, Kitten,” The deep voice purred. “You think I could get this ball into that trash bin right over there?”

It took me a second to register that he was addressing me until I realized where the nickname originated from and that it had belonged to me - I could thank Penelope for that.

“Oh, um …” I looked around the room like somehow it would have my answer. In some ways, it did.

I made contact with Reid first. He smiled weakly at me with tender awkwardness that melted my heart a little bit. Meanwhile, Elle’s eyes were luring me to join her on the dark side and say he wouldn’t make it. To be fair, riling him up seemed like fun. I’d be on Elle’s good side, gain her approval, and if I executed my jest playfully enough, I’d be on Morgan’s good side, too.

“No shot in hell, big guy.”

Present Time . . .

That’s how it all started - this sibling-like rivalry. Ever since then, we’ve been challenging each other like our lives depended on it. And if I had to make it my life’s mission to win this most recent bet, then so be it.

“Alright, kitten, I’ll take you up on that offer. I’ll pick you up at 9 on Saturday.”

We sealed the deal with a cross-table handshake, and at that moment, I hadn’t realized it - only when I thought back to it, did I notice - Reid had been watching the entire interaction unfold. Misinterpreting every painstaking second of it.

_ _ _

Sticking true to his word, Derek had taken up my offer in spades. Not the least bit shy in delegating me each and every duty there could possibly be.

I’ll admit, he used my pride to his advantage. Because while I was practically doing all the handy-work imaginable inside the property, he was resting on his laurels outside, probably taking up the view of rolling green hills that went on forever just beyond the front yard.

It just so happened that that would be our maintained, respective locations for the unexpected arrival of Derek’s very first (very unhappy) guest.

I was inside painting when I heard the placid squeak of Derek getting up from his Adirondack chair on the wraparound porch. I remember peeking my head out of the doorway for a second to see if he was finally going to come inside and help me, but lo and behold, I caught him walking further away from the entrance. While I might’ve given an eye roll of annoyance at the action, I thought nothing of it. Not until I heard Derek speaking to an eerily familiar secondary voice.

“What are you doing here?” I could hear Derek ask. My ears had perked up like a dog on high alert.

“Don’t play dumb. You’re trying to … to -” The second voice stammered.

“Spit it out, kid!”

“You’re trying to steal my girl!” Whoever it was, was desperate to speak with conviction, maybe even malice, to prove some level of strength that could match Derek’s, but they tried and failed.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Steal your girl? What the hell are you talking about, man?”

“You know I like her! And yet you’re just hanging out with her alone now? On one of your desolate properties? Can’t you see how suspicious that looks? You’re supposed to be my friend.”

I’d stopped painting completely at this point so I could take asylum behind the closed door. I could place that voice anywhere, and I needed to press my ear against the only thing separating it from me to confirm what I already knew.

“Reid, I am your friend,” And there it was. Reid? “And as your friend, I’m telling you: lower your voice unless you want her to hear you.”

“Don’t patronize me. Just tell me,” Spencer, if anything, spoke louder. Perhaps he did want me to hear him, or he simply wanted to defy Derek. “Why do you flirt with her?”

“Flirt?” Derek seemed appalled at the word. It would’ve been offensive that he was disgusted at the thought of engaging with me in that manner had I not felt the same way. What we were doing was not flirting - by any stretch of the imagination.

“You know what I’m talking about. You call her ‘Kitten,’ you both make sexual innuendos that you think fly over my head, you invite her to come over.”

“Slow your roll, Pretty Boy. First of all, ‘Kitten’ is just a nickname I gave her the first time we met because I didn’t know what her actual name was. You know that - you were there. Second, the sexual innuendos are just playful jabs at the fact that I sleep around. Low hanging-fruit. Third, inviting her to come over might seem suspicious, but if you walk in there right now, you’ll see that nothing is going on between us. She’s just here to help.”

I wanted any excuse to walk out there myself and announce my nearby presence. Confront Spencer and tell him I heard everything. Ask him where any of this was coming from. How he could think, for even a second, that there was something between me and Morgan.

Turns out, I didn’t need an excuse. I had already walked out.

Spencer gulped hard when he saw me. And for that I felt sorry for him. He looked so unlike himself. His hair was disheveled like he’d ran his fingers through it a million times out of stress. His outfit was strangely untidy, the buttons of his cuff unclasped. “Could you ... did you-”

“I heard everything,” I clarified to the dumbfounded shell of a man standing at the base of Morgan’s stairs.

It was a triangle of stares between us all. Exchanging quizzical glances in a battle of wills to see who would fold first. I was looking at Reid, Reid was looking at me, then he looked at Morgan, who looked back at him, then at me. Like I said, a triangle of stares.

“Um ... I’ll leave you two to talk. I’ll just be inside.”

I suppose there were worse ways to finally get Morgan off his ass and working.

Reid trailed Morgan with his eyes, while I simply waited for the sound of the door shutting behind me. It took a few more seconds until one of us had the gall to speak.

“Did you mean what you said? About liking me?” This question that I posed went unanswered for what felt like minutes. Looking at Reid, I could tell he wanted to say something, he just didn’t know what.

The soul was willing, but the flesh was weak.

“If you’re not ready to admit it, that’s okay. But then why did you really come here, Spencer? To yell at Morgan for possibly making a move on me? Because now’s your chance. Make your move, Spence.” I descended the stairs, stopping to stand on the very last step so I’d hover a mere inch above him. “Make a move.”

Make a move, he did.

Warm, clammy hands that were disproportionately bigger than the rest of his body caught my face so that unbelievably, inconceivably soft lips could make their fierce attack with no resistance. His fingers laced through my hair until his hand found the nape of my neck. He used that as leverage to pull me impossibly closer.

When he was just one step away from sucking my soul out of me, I laid my palm on his chest and pushed him slightly backward. I think I heard him laughing when I did this, probably to hide the shame of letting himself commit so fully to the moment that he forgot just how intense his passion was.

His eyes fluttered open and his lips were still contorted in a pucker. It took him a second, but it finally came.

“I meant what I said,” He confessed ever so nonchalantly as though it were the easiest thing in the world to him, despite being unable to come even close to admitting it just minutes before. “I like you. A lot.”

It was me who laughed then, both from the sheer elation hearing him say that brought me and the distant, exasperated comment that came from within the house.

“Well, finally! It’s about damn time!”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

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#spencer reid #spencer reid kiss #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fluff #about time #juniorgman187

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pretoriafics · 4 years ago

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If I wasn't a goddamn werewolf

I simply needed to do something with Talia. I think the pack dynamics would be so wonderful with her, with Laura, and with Cora. Should I do a part 2? Let me know <3

Talia just came back from the dead, and she is just trying to figure out what is happening with her son. But when she met you, everything becomes clear. Word count: 1.757 Pairings: Reader x Derek Contain: Pure angst!!; Derek being a dick; Warnings: English is not my main language <3 PART 2 TEEN WOLF MASTERLIST

Things were a true mess these days. The starting point was a resurrection. Nobody knew exactly how Talia arose from the dead, but everyone was trying to find out. Well, after so many years out of the Beacon Hills life, Talia was trying to fix in and absorb what had happened during the time she was dead. Peter had tried and failed to kill his daughter Laura, Cora comes back to the city, and the Hale's had rebuilt their pack with three new members: Boyd, Isaac, and Erica. Derek was happy with the presence of Talia - actually, everyone was - but as a mom, she knew something was pretty wrong. He was being a little bit... sad.

Talia caught Derek thoughtful during the night several times. Sometimes he just simply took his car and disappear. He was also taking time for himself, staying alone with his own thoughts. Talia just simply couldn't figure out what the hell was going on with her son. But when she has begun to think that maybe all of that was just something created inside of a mother's mind, she finds out about everything.

Talia, Derek, and Laura were doing some groceries at a supermarket. Talia and Laura were chatting about the city while taking a few things when suddenly, both of them heard a female voice greeting Derek in the corridor next to them.

"Hey, Derek."

It was you. Laura recognized your voice immediately. Talia's older daughter took her mom's wrist and took her to spy Derek, making a sign with her finger on her lips to her mom stay quiet. When Talia and Laura look at you and Derek, they notice all the signs of a couple in love. Your hearts were beating fast, and your eyes were shining like a thousand stars. You were pretty anxious, like a teenager talking for the first time with your crush. And your voice was so sweet... The air seems to completely disappear from Derek's lungs.

But despite all of the signs of love, Derek didn't reply to you. Actually, seems like the soft expression of love simply disappeared from his face - which was pretty severe and cold now. His facial expressions seem to let you even more anxious. You begun to regret to had the stupid idea to talk with him.

"Uh..." You started to talk, with his lack of answer "I..."

Without saying a word to you, Derek takes a can from the shelves and, simply, walks away from you. It was like you even weren't there. And, God, it broke your heart. Alone in the corridor and without becoming aware that you were being looked closely for Laura and Talia, you let escape a tear that ran through your face. Trying to compose yourself, you breathe in and swipe the tear away. You need to be strong.

When you just simply walk away from that corridor, Talia looks at Laura, pretty confused.

"Is that his ex?"

"No, she is just a girl he met. They started to become friends, but things evolved. Derek had decided to fell apart from her when Kate threatened to do something with her. You know, she was trying to manipulate him. But Derek thought that she would be safer without him. She doesn't know anything about supernatural, so..."

"It's dangerous for her."

"Exactly."

"How long ago did this happen?"

Laura drums her fingers on her chin, thoughtfully.

"I think it's been a year..."

"Oh, wow."

"Yeah, I know. You would love to meet her." Laura and Talia walk close to the candies session, looking at you. "Her name is (Y/N). She's a great girl."

"She seems like one."

Laura, Derek, and Talia were putting the groceries into the car - the place where Cora was waiting for her family. Talia was pretty thoughtful, thinking about the issue between you and Derek. Despite thinking that Derek did the right thing, she felt sad about the whole situation. It was pretty clear to her that Derek likes you a lot, and so do you.

Talia was torn from your thoughts when she listened to Cora's voice.

"Oh, I didn't saw her coming into the market."

Derek arches his eyebrows at his sister, walking in the driver's seat direction.

"Who?"

Cora indicates you with a nod in her head, and Derek's sight runs in your direction. Now Derek was looking at you for a distance he could saw you properly. Damn, you were so beautiful... He was pretty sure you did something with your hair, who made you more beautiful than ever. His heart began to race, and his face softened. You were like a sedative for him, with the power to take all of his angry away.

Unless you were next to another guy. In this case, you would stoke his fury just like the gasoline feeds fire. That was the case now.

You were walking in a man's direction, close to an expensive car. Despite being upset and heartbroken, you forced a smile on him, and he gave you a soft and slow kiss. Derek's chest vibrated in a low and threatening roar.

Laura looks at Cora.

"Who's that guy?"

"Well, he's her boyfriend. They're together a few months."

"He's hot. And seems like he's rich too."

Yeah, he was perfect. Derek didn't hate him just because he's the one who touches you now. Derek hates him because that guy was perfect, and better than him in so many aspects. He was rich, handsome, and a perfect gentleman. And he has you.

Oh, God... Derek wants so much for being under his skin for one day... Derek could simply forget all the supernatural bullshit and stay with you without worries. Damn, he wants so much to touch you again and kiss you again. He wants so much to say to you how beautiful you were with whatever you did with your hair, how you smell good, and how sorry he is for hurting you because he would never do that if it weren't for your own good.

If Derek wasn't a goddamn werewolf, he could take that vacation on Hawaii with you that you wanted so much. If he wasn't a goddamn werewolf, he could wake up by your side in the morning - something he never was able to do because of all the supernatural crap in the city. Derek could wake you up with kisses and breakfast in the bed too. If he wasn't a goddamn werewolf, he would take you to live with him on his loft. You would never cry of sadness, just of happiness.

If he wasn't a goddamn werewolf, Derek would give you a ring and would ask if you want to be Mrs. Hale.

Instead of all of it, Derek was forced to broke your heart for your own protection. He was forced to tell you not to talk with him anymore because he never felt anything for you. You were nothing more than a one-night stand, his little toy.

Derek remembers that day like it was yesterday. You were crying like never before while you listened to his sharp words.

"What do I did with you that made you thought you were so special?"

"You are nothing to me."

"I just wanted some fun. You can't blame me."

"Stop acting like a stuping teenager in love!"

It was hurtful to say those words to you. None of them were true. Derek just wanted you to hate him as much as someone could hate. With it, you would stay away from him and all of the danger. In fact, you said that night those three words he wanted you to tell him.

"I hate you!" You yelled, with your face wet in tears. "You are the biggest mistake I could ever make in my entire life!"

Despite saying horrible things to you that had hurt Derek as hell, your words hurt as much as his own. But even with all the emotions conflicting inside himself, Derek even could hear your heartbeat failing. It was the sound of your lie.

Despite all of that, you didn't hate him. You didn't think he was the biggest mistake of your like.

That broke him even more.

Derek just wants to feel you in his arms again and say to you how much he loves you - because, yeah, he really loves you, and he really thinks you are the one. Instead of it, he gives up on your love to keep you alive and safe.

Suddenly, Derek listens to your boyfriend talk with you. He was still with his face close to yours.

"I'm so lucky to have you as my girl." Your boyfriend smiles at you "I love you."

Your heart ached one more time that day. Oh, if those words were from Derek's mouth... But no, you think he hates you. Determined to move on and forget about Hale, you force a smile on your boyfriend.

"I love you too."

Your heartbeat sound failed, and the Hale family on another side of the parking lot could hear your lie. You didn't love your boyfriend but, oh, you really wish you could. He was perfect.

However, you always thought about how boring perfection was and, actually, you would love to be imperfect with Derek.

Your boyfriend gives you a sweet smile and gets into his expensive car. You walk towards the passenger's seat door and, before getting into the car, you look in Derek's direction.

He was looking at you with those beautiful and glacial green eyes. It was pretty hard to pretend he didn't love you because he does so much. While Talia was watching the entire situation, she noticed that yours and Derek's eyes were yelling a silent, dangerous, and forbidden I love you - the one who could let anyone with no air in their lungs.

Then, you breathe in, trying to contain yourself. You got into the car and, then, you and your boyfriend were leaving the parking lot and Derek's sight. If getting away from him and being in another man's arms meant you were safe, then Derek could handle it. However, after looking at the whole situation, Talia was not well with it. Well, Laura and Cora weren't either. They knew about his brother's sincere feelings, and Talia knew it that moment either. The gears inside her brain were already working to find a solution for all of that.

Derek, however, could only think of how much you would never really be his.

#teen wolf imagine #teen wolf imagines #teen wolf fanfics #teen wolf fics #teen wolf fanfic #derek hale imagine #derek hale imagines #derek hale x reader #derek hale fanfics #derek hale x you #derek hale x y/n #derek hale fic #derek hale fics #derek hale fanfic #derek hale fanfiction #derek hale fanfictions

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when-they-write-stuff · 4 years ago

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SterekWeek2020: Day Seven (Halloween)

(so late, but finally here!)

Derek was acting strange.

And yeah, Stiles supposed he really shouldn’t be that surprised. Derek was always acting strange in some way or another, it seemed like. For a man who had basically built his reputation on the idea that he was this big scary werewolf, Derek Hale had shown himself to be a lot more complex than that.

But the point was, Derek Hale was acting strange. And Stiles didn’t know why.

It started with the little things. Things like Derek vanishing out of nowhere and coming back to the loft much later in ruffled clothes and a pleased expression on his face. Stiles had asked the betas on multiple occasions what the hell was happening, but none of them ever seemed to know.

Or really care, for that matter. Erica would shrug and drag Boyd off to her room for some ‘alone’ time and Isaac would proceed to wrap himself in blankets and hog the TV, the volume up much too loud to cover up what Stiles could only assume were sounds he was glad he didn’t have the enhancements to hear.

Sometimes, there were perks to being human.

Derek always came back, of course. The first time he’d vanished, Stiles had been over helping Isaac with his homework— something Scott had roped them into. It had started as a pack study group, except then the young Alpha had gotten back together with Allison and spent more time at her house than at the loft anymore.

It didn’t help that Isaac needed the help, too. And Stiles would like to say that he had a heart of gold, thank you very much, and was kind enough to never abandon the beta.

Also, he got to hang around Derek— er, the other betas. At the loft. Nothing else.

The one downside was Peter.

When Stiles had asked him about Derek’s mysterious getaways, Peter had only smirked over the top of his book. And Stiles knew the asshole knew exactly where Derek kept going, but he was very conveniently keeping that information to himself.

Which made Stiles feel a little less bad when he spent time at the loft pretending Peter didn’t exist.

The first time Derek had vanished out of nowhere, Stiles had waited until the man came back. And Derek had come through the loft door hours later, shirtless and in ripped pants, looking like he’d gotten into a fight with a mountain lion and lost. But when Stiles had bombarded him with questions, refusing to leave until he got some sort of answer, Derek had just shrugged and locked himself in his room, leaving Stiles alone in the silent loft.

He’d tried to get Derek to talk since, he really had. Stiles had even attempted to follow the man once, but he’d only made it to the preserve before he lost Derek among the trees.

It was probably werewolf stuff, Scott had said. He didn’t seem very intrigued that Derek was living a secret second life, but Stiles supposed he hadn’t expected the boy to be. He just wanted someone to be as curious as he was and the betas were a bust, Scott was too obsessed with Allison, and when Stiles had tried to bring it up with Lydia, she’d proceeded to turn around and walk away.

It was Derek’s business, she’d said. Which… yeah. But still. Stiles was confused.

Months ended up passing since that very first day. Derek continued to act strange on certain days and go on mini-vacations, and Stiles continued to be utterly lost. It wasn’t until he’d nearly given up that things finally changed.

It was Halloween night when Stiles finally figured out Derek’s little secret.

He knew the betas planned to go around town in their beta forms, scaring the crap out of little kids, but Stiles had already decided he wasn’t going with them. Because when someone inevitably called the cops and Stiles’s dad showed up, he was not going to be the betas scapegoat.

No, Stiles planned on hanging out at the loft with the others to watch scary movies. Derek had been a little stubborn when Lydia first volunteered his place to meet up, but the man had eventually given in. Even Derek Hale knew better than to argue with Lydia Martin.

And Stiles totally wasn't looking forward to spending time at Derek’s loft. Totally not at all.

He might’ve been a little.

Except Derek wasn’t at the loft when Stiles arrived.

“Okay,” Stiles said, coming back into the main room after doing a thorough search of the loft. “Where the hell is our mighty Alpha?”

“Why does it matter?” Scott asked, looking confused. He was curled up on the couch with Allison, and she didn’t look too worried either. From where she sat in the other chair, Lydia didn’t even glance up from her phone.

“He’s gone,” Stiles said. “Again. Doesn’t that ever strike any of you as strange?”

“Not really,” Scott said. Allison shrugged.

“Maybe he's out doing something.”

“Like?”

She glanced at Scott, who shook his head. “Keeping an eye on the betas?”

“Derek doesn’t babysit the betas,” Stiles said, running a hand through his hair. “I’m pretty sure he’d sooner eat his own hand.”

“Gross, Stiles,” Lydia said, making a face. Stiles rolled his eyes.

“You know it’s true. He’s gone again. On Halloween night. What the hell is more important than scary movies and candy on Halloween night?”

“Why do you care so much?” Lydia said, a familiar glint in her green eyes. It was that knowing look she’d gotten the first time Stiles had complained about Derek’s antics. Glaring at her, Stiles fished out his keys and started toward the loft door, grabbing his hoodie from the back of the nearest chair.

“I don’t,” he said. “But the asshole is being weird and I’m going to go figure out what he’s doing.”

“Oh, come on, Stiles,” Scott called. “You’re going to miss the movie!”

“There’s plenty of time to watch scary movies tonight,” Stiles said, waving a hand over his shoulder. “I’ll be back.”

Stiles was pretty sure Scott started to say something else, but he didn’t stick around to listen.

And yeah, maybe Derek’s business was Derek’s business or whatever. But Stiles was pretty damn curious and he’d had enough. The man was hiding something from them and for some reason, nobody else seemed to care.

What if he was in trouble? Secretly dying? Had an embarrassing hobby that Stiles totally wanted to know about?

The possibilities were endless.

He wasn’t exactly sure where to go looking for the man. The preserve was usually Derek’s go-to when Stiles attempted to follow him, but that never ended well. One time, he’d ditched the Camaro on the side of the road and literally disappeared— and Stiles hadn’t even known what to think about that.

Maybe Derek was also part ghost. A werewolf alpha ghost.

Okay, maybe not.

Stiles ended up deciding to do a quick drive of the town. Because if Derek really was being a ‘disproving Alpha’ to the betas, then he might as well find out before wasting his night looking for one grumpy-growly werewolf. And maybe he could get to see Derek chew them out too.

That was always amusing.

There were already tons of people out, even though it wasn’t that dark yet. Stiles wasn’t really sure where the betas would go, but he may or may not have put a tracker into Isaac’s phone the first time Isaac let him borrow it.

It wasn’t like he didn’t trust the boy or anything, but Derek’s betas always seemed to be getting themselves in trouble. And Stiles knew there was no way he was ever getting his hands on the phones of the other two.

He’d put a tracker in Derek’s too, if he could only figure out what the man’s freaking password was. It wasn’t like Derek was good at technology but damn, if the man didn’t know how to keep unwanted visitors out of his phone.

Isaac’s phone placed him all the way across town. In one of Beacon Hills larger neighborhoods, probably scaring the crap out of innocent little kids, if Stiles was right.

He was.

He caught sight of the betas almost immediately— and quickly ducked down. Because Stiles hadn’t gone with them for a reason, remember? And that reason was looking at him right in the face in the form of flashing police lights and Stiles’s dad looking disappointed, giving the betas the chewing-out that Stiles had kind of hoped to see Derek giving.

The grumpy Alpha, on the other hand, was nowhere in sight. Stiles did spot a small group of trick-or-treaters and their parents watching, though.

And a giant black dog, standing a little ways away from the flashing lights.

Stiles tilted his head, watching the dog curiously. He couldn’t make out a collar, but it seemed well-behaved enough, sitting on someone's lawn and watching the betas get lectured. It almost looked… interested. In a scarily human way.

Suddenly, dark amber eyes were locked on his own and then the dog was watching him.

Stiles jerked, hitting his elbow on the steering wheel with a curse. And when he looked back, rubbing at his funny bone, the dog was gone.

As if it had never been there.

Stiles stared for another long moment before shaking his head, wondering faintly if he was going crazy.

He drove off before he could get caught by one of the betas or worse, his dad, determined to have nothing to do with them being idiots. At this point, it was much darker, and Stiles figured he was never going to find Derek unless the man wanted to be found.

Which clearly, he didn’t.

So Stiles headed home, deciding to grab a few of his favorite horror movies before heading back to the loft. He’d probably already missed the first one, but that wasn’t a big loss. Scott had brought it and the boy had terrible taste in movies.

He still hadn’t seen Star Wars yet.

Stiles hadn’t spent Halloween at home since his mom’s death. Before, they used to decorate the house and hand out candy, but things changed when she passed. And Stiles wasn’t a little kid anymore. His dad worked Halloween night anyway, and Stiles hated to be alone in the silence, so he usually ended up going to the McCall’s instead of hanging out alone.

Or, that’s what he’d done before the pack. Before he had other people to spend the holidays with.

Stiles would never admit out loud how much he kind of loved it.

Which brought him back to his sour mood and the fact that Derek wasn’t around tonight. Stiles didn’t think he’d be so offended if the man would just tell one of them what he was doing. It wasn’t like he was worried about the asshole or whatever, but… it’d be nice to know.

That’s all it was.

Stiles grabbed a few movies, a bag of chips (because Derek never had any good snacks around), and headed back out into the night to see a large black dog sitting on his lawn.

The large black dog.

Stiles froze, movies in one hand and the bag of chips in the other. For a moment, he didn’t move and the dog didn’t either, looking at him with those eerily knowing eyes.

“Uh,” Stiles finally said, taking a nervous step back. “Hey, there, doggie?”

The dog growled. And if Stiles was being honest, it looked a lot more like a wolf than a dog, big enough to probably rip out his throat with ease.

Stiles suddenly froze, staring.

A grumpy-growly wolf-dog. Following him and the betas around, all while Derek was on the loose who-knew-where...

“No freaking way,” Stiles breathed. “Sourwolf?”

Either he was losing his mind and talking to stray wolf-dogs, or Derek was sitting right in front of him. Not ripping his throat out, which Stiles supposed he should be grateful for, but was this really the secret the man had been keeping for months?

“Oh my god, dude, you go furry now?”

The dog snarled, stalking forward. Stiles squeaked, dropping both the movie and bag of chips. He stumbled back, ramming against the door, and fumbled blindly for the doorknob. Except, before he could yank it open and maybe spend the rest of the night hiding from an angry wolf-dog-thing, it was getting larger, less furry, and suddenly Derek Hale was standing in front of him.

Stiles yelped, clapping his hands over his eyes and turning his face away.

“Dude, genitals!”

Yeah, that sentence actually left his mouth.

And it wasn’t like Stiles had never imagined seeing Derek naked before, but if he had, it would not be in a situation like this. Stiles was far too shocked to remove his hands for a moment, but he was pretty sure that a grown man standing naked on his front porch was going to get the cops called and— and his dad could not see this.

Oh god, his dad could never see this.

“D-Derek?”

“Stiles.”

Stiles flinched, lowering his hands but keeping his eyes firmly closed. Turning around blindly, he felt around until he found the doorknob and turned it, stumbling back into his house. And after a moment, he heard what sounded like Derek following.

“Shut the door behind you,” Stiles said, finally opening his eyes but keeping them straight ahead. “I swear to god, dude, shut the door and hope for both our sakes that nobody saw you go from furry to nude in like, three seconds.”

Stiles heard what sounded like an unimpressed grunt, but he was really trying to pretend like there wasn’t a naked werewolf behind him, thank you very much. After a second, he heard the door shut, and then footsteps moved forward.

“Nope!” Stiles shouted, squeezing his eyes closed again. “Nope, do not take another step, dude! Not until you have some clothes on!”

“Stiles,” Derek growled, definitely sounding irritated now. Stiles waved a hand over his shoulder, cutting the man off.

“Nuh-uh. I’m going to go get you something to wear and you are going to stay… right where you are. Wherever you are. No moving, no going anywhere. No going furry again!”

“Stiles—”

“I swear to god, Sourwolf, I will murder you if you don’t listen to me right now.”

Derek went silent and Stiles waited for a moment longer before realizing he had the upper hand here. More than relieved, he stumbled toward the stairs, keeping his gaze firmly averted until the living room was out of sight

On the top of the stairs, Stiles could easily freak out in peace. He was pretty sure Derek could still hear his heartbeats but whatever.

There was a naked werewolf one floor below. Derek Hale was naked in his living room.

And the man had just been a damn wolf.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Stiles said, heading for his dad’s room. The last time he’d attempted to make Derek wear his clothes, it had nearly ended in a murder, so he figured he’d go with the safe option this time. And that ended up being a pair of sweatpants and Beacon Hills PD t-shirt that Stiles was going to make sure his dad never wore again.

Derek Hale and the Sheriff sharing clothes might be something Stiles would never recover from.

He paused at the top of the stairs again, debating just throwing them down and telling Derek to fetch. But that probably wouldn’t end well either. Taking a deep breath, Stiles moved back downstairs and turned into the living room again, turning his gaze to the floor the moment he caught sight of a bare chest and Derek’s slightly peeved expression.

The man hadn’t moved, at least.

“Here,” Stiles said, thrusting the stack of clothes forward. He heard Derek grunt and could easily imagine the man rolling his eyes, but Derek took them without a complaint.

Stiles turned a little ways away, eyeing the wall with interest until the rustling of clothes turned into silence once more and he glanced back to see Derek finally clothed.

“Oh, thank god,” Stiles said. Derek rolled his eyes.

“Are you happy now?”

“Am I— no, asshole, I’m not happy! You were just naked. And before that, you were a freaking wolf. A wolf! When the hell did that happen?”

Derek’s face tightened. “It’s new.”

“New as in it started a few months ago? You know, when you started disappearing out of nowhere?”

Derek didn’t answer. Stiles groaned, rubbing a hand over his face.

“I hate you sometimes, you know that?”

“I can just leave,” Derek shot back, folding his arms over his chest. Stiles threw up his hands.

“Yeah, well, why did you come here in the first place?”

“Why were you following me all over town?”

“Following— following? I wasn’t following you, asshole! I didn’t even know where the hell you were! I was looking,” Stiles said, glaring. “There’s a difference.”

Derek’s tight expression didn’t change. “Okay, why were you looking?”

“Because I was worried!”

Derek’s eye twitched. But before he could say another word, the doorbell rang and Stiles startled, glancing at it and cursing.

“Trick-or-treaters. But we don’t have any candy to hand out.”

“So just ignore it.”

Stiles went silent and a few seconds passed before the doorbell rang again. Cursing again, he waved Derek off and hurried into the kitchen, scrounging around before finding a box of granola bars. Figuring that would have to be good enough, he rushed back over to the door and pulled it open.

There were only a handful of kids on the step, thankfully. The air filled with the chorus of “trick or treat!” and Stiles put on his best smile, offering the granola bars forward.

One kid frowned. “Where’s the candy?”

“Not here, dude.”

“Why not?”

Stiles raised an eyebrow at him, but before he could say a word, the kid stiffened with a gasp. Turning around, Stiles realized Derek had come to stand behind him, the man’s eyes glowing bright red and his face half-shifted.

A second passed. Then, a chorus of screams filled the air and all of the kids turned, racing from the doorstep. Stiles blinked after them, then turned back toward Derek, staring at the man incredulously.

“Dude, what the hell?”

Derek looked unbothered, the red fading from his eyes as he turned back around. Stiles gazed after him, then glanced back over his shoulder, swallowing hard at the glares from the parents on the sidewalk. He was pretty sure one of the kids was crying.

Oh, this was just fantastic.

“Oh my fucking god,” Stiles said, slamming the door closed. “Derek, you can’t just do that!”

“You can’t give granola bars out instead of candy.”

“Um, excuse me,” Stiles said, gesturing around. “But do you see any candy lying around? And you probably just scarred all of those kids for life, you know!”

Derek shrugged, dropping down onto the couch. “They’ll be fine.”

“I can’t believe this is happening right now.”

The man raised an eyebrow, as if he hadn’t just nearly given a bunch of children heart attacks. Stiles stood rooted to the spot for a moment before stalking over, jabbing a threatening finger in the werewolf’s face.

“You’re going to tell me how this started. Now.”

Derek didn’t look fazed. And dammit, if Stiles didn’t hate him sometimes.

“Derek, I swear to god—”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Derek said. “It’s new. My mother could full-shift and now I can too.”

Stiles clenched his jaw. “And you didn’t think to tell the rest of the pack?”

“I was learning how to control it.”

“You know, some of us could have helped.”

Derek gave him a flat look. And Stiles did his best not to flush bright red, crossing his arms as he dropped into the armchair across from the man.

“I could have helped.”

“Hm.”

“You were a dog,” Stiles stated. And to the man’s continued silence, he groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Oh my god, you can turn into a dog.”

“A wolf, Stiles.”

“Wolf, dog, whatever. You can literally rip throats out now.”

When he glanced through his fingers, Derek almost looked a little pleased. And nope, that wasn’t fair at all. Stiles had a real reason to fear for his life when he pissed the man off a little too much, now. And that was not something to be pleased about.

Not in his book, at least.

“You could have told someone, you know,” Stiles said grumpily. “I mean, other than Peter.”

“Peter?”

“Yeah, Peter,” Stiles said, “Trust me, the Creeperwolf knows.”

Derek actually looked a little surprised at that. Stiles rolled his eyes.

“I wouldn’t have told anyone.”

“What?”

Stiles looked at him in disbelief. Because seriously? He’d been trying to figure out what Derek was doing for months now. And the man still seemed surprised that Stiles had wanted to know? “Dude, do you know how many theories I had?”

Derek looked at him blankly. Stiles huffed.

“I swear to god, I thought you were in trouble or dying or something. That’s stressful, dude!”

“I was fine.”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t tell anyone that.”

Derek looked confused for a moment. Then his face did something weird-- Derek actually looked more like a soft teddy bear for a moment, instead of a grumpy werewolf, and Stiles didn’t know what the hell to do with that. “I was fine, Stiles.”

Stiles crossed his arms, glaring down at the floor. Derek sighed.

“Well, now you know, right?”

Stiles looked at the floor for another moment before glancing back up. “Why show me tonight? I wouldn’t have figured it out.”

“You were driving all over town looking for me, Stiles.”

“I was concerned!”

Stiles could’ve sworn the corners of Derek's mouth twitched. And yep, this whole thing was weirding him out. From the wolf, to the nudity, to the fact that Derek Hale looked like he was about to smile.

Stiles leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. “I’m not going crazy, right?”

“Really, Stiles?”

“I’m just saying, dude,” Stiles said, raising his hands. “This is all kind of weirding me out.”

For a moment, Derek looked uncomfortable. “The shift?”

Stiles blinked. Derek glanced away.

“It’s different. From the others. It's strange.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles said. “No, of course that's not it, dude. You being a literal freaking wolf? That’s the coolest thing ever, man.”

Derek glanced up, face a little red. Stiles huffed.

“I guess I’m just not used to having naked werewolves hanging out in my living room.”

The red went all the way to Derek’s ears this time. He scowled, but Stiles thought he could look grumpier. The glare didn't quite reach his eyes and the red of his face was definitely amusing. “Shut up, Stiles.”

“Hmm, sure. So are you going to tell the rest of the pack at some point?”

“At some point.”

Stiles grinned a little bit. “So I’m the only one who knows, then? Other than Peter the Creeper, at least. God, I feel so special.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “For now.”

“I'll take it,” Stiles said, grinning wider. To Derek’s flat look, he raised his hands. “Don’t worry, I won’t say anything.”

The man's eyes flashed bright red at that and he smirked. “No, you won’t.”

“I-is that a threat, Sourwolf?”

“You said it yourself. I can rip out throats now.”

A shiver ran down Stiles's spine, but he couldn't tell if it was a terrified one or not. He didn't think so. “I didn’t need that imagery.” And the whole smirking-threat thing totally wasn’t a strange turn on. Not at all.

Dammit.

Except before Derek could say a word again, or maybe catch wind of Stiles's teenage hormones betraying him, the doorbell rang once more. Stiles startled and Derek’s eyes flickered red again. Before the man could go scar more innocent children, though, Stiles jumped up and grabbed the box of granola bars. "Don't you dare."

Derek gave him a flat look. Stiles shrugged.

“I didn’t plan on being around tonight,” he said. “I don't have candy to hand out. Everyone is gathered at the loft anyway. Err, minus the betas perhaps.”

“They might be back by now.”

"Or they're in jail."

Derek didn't look fazed. "It'd be a good lesson."

Stiles rolled his eyes at that, glancing toward the door as the bell rang again. Derek raised an eyebrow, waiting, and Stiles glanced down at the box of granola bars again. Then, he sighed. “Okay, fine, big guy, you get one more scare. Then, we’re going to the loft. Understood?”

The man looked surprised. Stiles smirked a little.

“Or you can stay here and explain to my dad why you’re wearing his clothes when he gets off his shift.”

Stiles was more than entertained to see Derek look terrified for a moment. The big bad wolf, literally looking like Stiles had just threatened him with a stick of wolfsbane. And, full shift wolf or not, Stiles was totally remembering that.

“So?” he said, tilting his head toward the door. And was he a terrible person for allowing this? Maybe a little bit? “Are you gonna go?”

There were definite fangs in Derek half-smirk. That really shouldn’t have been such a turn on too.

Stiles was pretty sure someone was going to call the cops on his house too, just like with the betas. And wouldn’t that confuse the hell out of his dad? Stiles supposed he could always throw them under the bus a second time if needed.

Seconds after Derek opened the door, screams filled the air. Stiles glanced down at the box of granola bars in his hands.

Well…

He set them on the front porch with a ‘take one’ sign when they left, just in case. And Derek made sure Stiles knew he thought the entire thing was stupid and 'granola bars should never be a replacement for candy.' Stiles had never realized the man was such a Halloween snob.

The entire box was still there the next morning.

#sterek #teen wolf #sterekweek2020 #sterek au #wolf!derek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #teen wolf edits #sterek edits #sterek moodboard #derek hale x stiles stilinski #fluff #humor #ficlet #late but here

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reporterleroux · 4 years ago

Text

"I miss him, y'know?"

Characters: ig!tommy, ig!tubbo, ig!ranboo (/p, best friends), ig!dream (/p, enemy), ig!awesamdude x ghosthybrid!reader

TW: Murder and it's kinda gory, blood, self isolation

A/N: WHY ARE THE ONLY IDEAS I GET SAD???

!SOME LANGUAGE!

-------------------------------------------------------

It's always been that little bit tougher for you since Tommy got sent to prison, and the fact that he was sharing a cell with Dream made it way harder than it needed to be. The house you built with him, Tubbo and Ranboo was constantly silent now, the house upon the hill you chose before any chaos begun. The view wasn't the same, it was an old city in ruins. The prison was the only sight out of the main window, so you constantly insisted to the boys the curtain stayed closed. You occasionally attempted to visit Tommy, but Sam would only say no. You always had to leave him a note, a note you would rant on, a note you wouldn't even know he ever got. That's why you never went there anymore, you knew the answer would always be the same, so you just wrote a note and sent it by post, or most the time, the boys would take it down for you. You couldn't even have it within your sights, let alone be there. You had nothing to do now Tommy was gone, nothing but mope around in your room all day, reminiscing on things you used to to together.

Sure, Tommy had been in the prison for a while, but this was the first time you never left the house, let alone your room, in just over a week. You would sit there all day just staring out of your window, which looked over the field you all used to spend your days in, only ever looking away to make some of your now rare appearances to the boys to get food, a drink or to go to the bathroom. The boys had enough, they needed to get you outside, and weren't taking no for an answer. They headed towards your room, Tubbo pushing the door open and leaning in, Ranboo hovering over him as he did so.

"Y/N?"

Tubbo asked, you turned around, smiling weakly towards them, but also feeling guilty for ditching them for the amount of time you did.

"Do you want to go out for a walk with us? We agreed that you needed it after you've been in the house for over a week."

You looked shocked, unaware of the time you'd been in your room, away from your best friends, time where you haven't sent a single note to Tommy. You broke down there and then.

"Woah, woah, you good?"

Ranboo asked as Tubbo rushed over to hug you. As much as Ranboo wished he could, all he was able to do was use words, as your tears would burn him, which you understood.

"I'm so so so sorry guys, I never realised how much time I isolated myself for. I'm so sorry."

You managed to get out between sobs as Tubbo hugged to tighter, Ranboo still not being able to hug you as well.

"Hey hey calm down, it's ok. You're with us now, and that's all that matters. Now get changed and we'll go out for a walk alright?"

Tubbo said, releasing from the hug and drying your eyes. You nodded as Ranboo came to hug you, now able to do it without burning, before they both left the room. It took a bit longer than usual for you to get ready, but you got ready none the less. You grabbed a few things like your sword and some food before ghosting through your door and meeting the boys at the front of the house, ready to leave. They smiled softly at you before you slipped on your shoes and left with them.

The views and nostalgia wasn't pretty for you, but aslong as you were with your 2 best friends, it didn't matter. You decided to relax for a bit on the bench. Everyone was silent until you sighed.

"I miss him, y'know. Yeah, he's just in prison and stuff, but I still miss him. The house just doesn't feel right without him."

The other boys hummed in agreement, listening to every word you said, as you unconsciously rambled on about Tommy. You sat in silence for a bit after that, you looking over your now destroyed home, but being able to see the ghosts of everything, the complete buildings, the ghosts of your past selves being teenagers and having the time of your lifes. It wasn't long before you felt something on your forearm. You rolled up your sleeve, and threw your hand up towards your mouth on the brim of tears as you read what it said.

"TommyInnit WAS SLAIN BY Dream"

"No, theres- no..."

The boys looked confused, before seeing your forearm.

"That green bastard, I'll punch his teeth in."

You said as you stood up and grabbed your sword.

"Y/N no. He's too strong, he's not worth it."

Ranboo said concerned as he grabbed your wrist to stop you. You pulled it out of his grasp before jumping off the small cliff infront of you, thankfully not taking any damage due to your hybrid abilities. You could hear the boys calling out and running after you, but you didn't stop. You ran as quickly as you could towards the prison, ghosting through the walls before you were met with Sam.

"Oh, Y/N! Are you ok?"

Sam asked. You looked at him deadass in response before showing him your forearm. He stood in shock, but also knew what you were going to do. As you tried to run forward, he grabbed you by your arms, holding you back.

"Sam! Let go of me!"

You shouted angrily at him. When he wouldn't let go, you just ghosted through him and all the security and ran straight through the lava, knowing it wouldn't damage you, before being confronted by the worst scene you could ever imagine. Tommy's dead body, bedding out in the corner, Dream in the opposite corner, knuckled dripping with blood. Tommy's blood.

"You sick son of a bitch! Why did you do that?"

You questioned. Dream just sent you a smirk, before shrugging like nothing ever happened.

"I took your first 2 lives. Im not afraid to take your last."

You said as you shoved him down into the corner he was standing in, tip of your sword right by his heart. You knew enough to know that it would instantly kill him as soon as you out more force on it. Dream still had that smirk on his face.

"Was his fault really. Y'know, he was always just using you three. Never really liked any of you. That what he told me."

You had enough of this. He was trying to be manipulative with you. He knew if you fell for it he could save his own life. That's not what you wanted.

"Come on kid, join me instead, it'll be better for you. No need to say no."

You pretended to think about it for a second, before saying

"Suck it, green boy."

And you put more pressure on your sword, plunging it through him, and kept it there before you felt the similar tingle on your arm.

"DREAM was slain by Y/N"

You pulled the sword out of his chest, and held it by your side, suddenly turning your head towards Tommy's dead body, making sure anyone that walked in could see what you did to Dream, and you were the one who did it. You zoned out, remembering everything Tommy, Tubbo and Ranboo did together. Tubbo and Ranboo. How would they feel about what you just did? How about Tommy? You were still zoned out as the lava started dropping down, Sam, Tubbo and Ranboo on the other side. They were all in shock of the scene before them. You were in front of Dreams body, sword dripping with his blood, looking at Tommy.

"Y-Y/N?"

You snapped back to reality, and whipped your head around. Oh no.

"R-ranboo, Sam, T-tubbo, I'm sorry, I had to, he killed him, I had to."

You stumbles on your sentences, as they all looked at you shocked. Sam was just frozen in place, the 3 of you noticed that, so the boys took the opportunity to reach in, grab you and get out of there. Everything was very different now.

It had been roughly a week since the prison events, and alot of people either hated you, or liked you, there was no inbetween. You thought everyone would leave you, but Ranboo and Tubbo stuck by your side the entire time. You visited Tommy's grave weekly, and left all his possessions alone. That was until the boys went out, and you felt lonely, so you went to go sit in Tommy's room.

"T-tommy?"

There was a ghost of the boy you once we're best friends with, sitting in the bed.

"Tommy? Oh, right, you're Y/N, right? My best friend from when I was alive? Sorry, I go by GhostInnit now."

You didn't care, you were just happy you could see him, and instantly jumped into him for a hug. You didn't know if it was your hybrid abilities that could make you see him, or if he was visible to everyone in general, but that didn't matter. You were just happy he was there.

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A/N: podiddlyboingodawidaho

#dream smp #ranboo #tommyinnit #tubbo #ranboo x reader #tubbo x reader #tommyinnit x reader

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pparkerpoetry · 4 years ago

Text

Hold the Pieces of a Shattered Heart

Summary: “What happens to him?” Tommy asked.

“He dies.” Death said. “He comes into my realm, broken. No one knows he has died, and no one bothers to learn.”

-or-

Tommy was killed by Dream. When Dream tries to resurrect him, he doesn't want to go back- but Death shows him what happens to all of his friends should he refuse.

Ironic, isn't it. Death herself trying to convince Tommy why he needs to live.

_________

Tommy opened his eyes.

The fact that he could open them was a miracle by itself, because last he remembered he was in the prison cell with Dream, on the ground, being hit over and over and over-

Tommy didn’t want to think about it.

He wasn’t there anymore, it was pretty clear since instead of the dark walls that had seemed to close in on him whenever he looked away, there was a comforting landscape of rolling hills and twittering birds. Where was he?

From down the hill he was sitting on, he heard voices, and though some part of him knew who they were, he still hoped it was Tubbo. That Sam had let him out and he’d just taken a nap, that he was real, and there, and alive.

His feet didn’t make any noise on the grass, however real the place looked. It was unsettling, it was, but he still walked towards the voices. His search led him to a quaint little cottage, out of the way and nicely built, the opposite of everything that Tommy had ever made. He liked it, though. Or maybe the laughter from inside seemed better than the silence that he was forced to listen to. When had the birds stopped singing? Had he been imagining it?

He couldn’t be sure of anything. He didn’t even know where he was.

Tommy stepped up to the door and knocked. The laughter stopped abruptly, and from inside a rumbling voice groaned, “I swear if it’s that green bastard again-”

Another voice made itself known, this time so heart-achingly familiar. “Mex doesn’t knock.” The voice was filled with sadness, and it made Tommy sad. That voice wasn’t made to speak in soft tones and sorrowed lilts, it was meant to soar and to sing and to lead.

The door opened.

Wilbur stood there, real Wilbur, not some half-assed ghost of his brother. His eyes were filled with shock, and Tommy knew his heart had dropped from the expression on his face and the way that Wilbur raised a hand to search its way through his curls. “...Tommy? What are you doing here?”

If Tommy tried to speak, no noise left his throat the first time. He tried again, this time over the shock of seeing his brother again. His voice was also flooded with emotion and hurt, something that he’d kept hidden from everyone else for so long so that they wouldn’t treat him any less. “What do you think? The bitch killed me.”

“Dream? Dream killed you?” Wilbur lifted a hand to cup Tommy’s cheek, but the teen flinched away. Hands near his face brought too many bad memories.

“Yeah.”

Wilbur’s eyes were glassy with tears that he’d never let himself shed. “Oh, Tommy. You never deserved this. Not when you’re so young.”

“And you did?” Tommy asked, the pools in his eyes reflecting the pain that he’d buried deep inside of himself. “You deserved to die, all while we were forced to make a world for ourselves with no one to guide us?”

“You had Phil-”

“Phil?” Tommy laughed, but the giggle died in his throat before it could worm its way out. “Phil killed you and dipped. He doesn’t know me. I’m just some teenager that got in the way.”

Wilbur’s eyes furrowed. “That’s not right- I wrote to him,”

“And he never read the letters.” Tommy ground out. “It was just Tubbo and me. And Dream. Where have you been, if you don’t even know that?”

“Ghostbur was supposed to tell me what was going on,” Wilbur said quietly. “He came back a bit ago with the last message, and now, it’s just me.”

“And me!” Called a voice from inside the cottage, slurred with the memory of liquor. “I’m the best part.”

Tommy laughed, a real laugh, not some half-assed exhale like when he couldn’t bear to force one out. And then Wilbur laughed, and it suddenly hit Tommy that he was here, he was with Wilbur- and suddenly he launched himself at his brother and they were both crying, wrapped in the first real hug that Tommy’d had since before his second exile.

“I missed you, Wil.”

Wilbur held Tommy closer. “I missed you too. I just wish we hadn’t met like this. God, Tommy. You’re so young.”

“So are you.” Tommy reminded, turning to look up at Wilbur. “So is everyone on the server.”

“Not Phil.” Came a voice from behind the two. A feminine voice. A new one. “Phil is much older than you can fathom.”

Tommy brought himself away from Wilbur’s arms and looked at the woman who stood a ways away. “And who are you?”

“I’m Death.” She said simply, and Tommy knew it was true.

He wasn’t sure which part of her exuded the confidence of the only being who was at the beginning of creation and would be there at the end of it all, inevitable- was it her dress, long and soft, the folds of it whispering of the victims who’d dared to challenge her? Was it her hair, pulled back in a facade of relaxation, but intricately braided and ready for battle? Was it her scabbard, encrusted with jewels and riches that only one of immense power could have, holding a sword of flames and fire? Or maybe, was it the wings? Was it the dark wings that grew from her back and stretched past what she should be able to hold up, a menacing wingspan that could nurture and protect as well as smite down, that let Tommy know that she was nothing other than Death?

“I’m Death,” she repeated softly, walking towards Tommy, reaching out a hand that he trusted for once, “and Life hasn’t been kind to you, I see.”

“Phil hasn’t helped, either,” Wilbur grumbled, and Tommy’s face twisted in confusion.

The woman sighed. “Don’t speak ill of my Angel. He may have his flaws but that was why he was cast down in the first place. I have claimed him, and you would do well to remember the power I hold over this realm. I may be kind to you for your connection to him, but softness has no place where I am from.”

Tommy knew her words were true, but still, he trusted her.

“Tommy,” She clucked her tongue and met his gaze. “I need to bring you home.”

“What if I don’t want to go back?” He asked, voice breaking. “What if I want to stay here?”

“I can’t let that happen.” She frowned. “What has happened that Life turned on you so harshly?” Her hand touched his forehead, and for a second, her eyes closed. When they opened, no tears filled them, just anger. Not at him, but at all that had broken him.

“I don’t want to go back,” Tommy whispered, tears streaking down his face. “He can’t hurt me here.”

“You were never meant to stay here.” Death’s wings circled him slightly. “This was never permanent. Just a play of power by the man who has delusions of godhood.”

“Then why let him win?” Tommy’s voice grew a little louder. “Why let him control me?”

“Though he isn’t a god, he’s got one on his side. As I have chosen my Angel, Life has chosen his Runner, capable of outrunning even Death. He has forced my hand- I cannot interfere or he will learn of my existence. He has yet to know of the power he could hold, and should he, your existence would be much worse.”

“Please don’t make me go back.” Tommy tried again. “Please, don’t make me go back.”

Death held out her hand for him to take. “Then let me show you what will come to pass should you stay here. Let me show you how they suffer.”

A bright flash of light made Tommy close his eyes, but he opened them once he could tell it had faded. Instead of endless, rolling hills, the landscape of L’manburg was there instead. Jack was there, and Quackity, speaking of a business deal.

“What do you mean, Tommy’s dead? When did this happen?” Quackity asked, voice vulnerable and open.

“Today,” Jack said, looking down. “In the prison. Dream killed him.”

Tommy turned to Death. “This is just now, right? This is normal. Grief, n’ shit. They’ll be fine.”

Death sent him a look, before flicking her hand. They were now in a land Tommy hadn’t seen before, in a house that he’d never had the pleasure of visiting. “They’ll be fine?” She asked, gesturing towards a chair in the corner of the room.

Quackity was there, with Sapnap and Karl. They all looked broken. George was there, a little bit away.

“He’s dead,” Quackity said, letting a few tears fall. “Dream killed him.”

“Say it again,” George demanded.

“Dream killed him, George,” Sapnap yelled. “Don’t you get it? I told you before, and I’ll tell you again- he doesn’t care about us. He’s not the same Dream we knew, and you need to face it! You keep defending him, but at some point, he’ll come after me, too. I threatened him. What’ll you do, then? You’ll go to my funeral and try to convince yourself that Dream still cares? What’ll you do when Dream goes after you? Are you going to die trying to convince yourself that he won’t kill you?”

Karl spoke up. “Let it be, Sap.”

George stared at the crackling fireplace. “Yeah.” He whispered. “Yeah, I’ll die trying to convince him that he’s still in there. I’m not giving up on him. He deserves a second chance.”

“He just murdered a teenager!” Sapnap exploded, barely contained flames spreading across his skin. “He stopped deserving a second chance when he made it clear that he’d want a third. And a fourth. And as many as it would take for us to realize that he’s taking advantage of us,”

George shook his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you aren’t seeing reason!” Sapnap broke, tears sizzling as the flames made way for them.

“Sap,” Quackity said softly. “Let it go.”

George left the house as the three lovers broke into tears over the one that had held the server together. He didn’t return.

“What happens to him?” Tommy asked, watching the blue shirt fade into the distance.

“He dies.” Death said. “He comes into my realm, broken. No one knows he has died, and no one bothers to learn.”

She pulls Tommy along by the arm to another scene.

Tommy saw Fundy, sitting on the docks that had been through so much and seen more. His ears were down, his fur not quite as pristine as he always kept it. The fox was swinging his legs and splashing the water with his feet occasionally, but overall, looked okay.

When Tommy went to speak, Death silenced him. They watched.

Fundy stayed there until night had fallen. Then, he let the tears fall. They flowed in abundance, for he’d lost not only his father, not only his grandfather, but his uncle and friend. He’d lost everyone, truly everyone, for the others were strangers to him now. He was all alone, and as he sobbed and screamed into the cool night air, no one answered. No one lived near enough to the docks to hear him, anymore. They’d all moved, leaving him stranded by himself.

“Tell me he’s okay,” Tommy begged, turning to Death.

“He searches for his mother,” Death said, and Tommy thought he caught a hint of softness in her voice, “He searches for his mother, for she is the only one he hasn’t given up on. He gets in a boat and though he must search all of the vast oceans, he does not give up.”

“And does he find her?” Tommy asked, hoping for good news.

Death almost couldn’t bear to continue. “He doesn’t. He can’t, for though he does not know it, she is gone. He thinks that he gets close, though, until…” She thought about how to phrase it. “I am one of the more forgiving gods.” She said instead, “the god of the ocean didn’t take kindly to Fundy intruding.”

As Tommy is pulled from the view, his mind echoes with thunder and crashing waves, the light showing a silhouette of a small boat, with no one in it. Tommy doesn’t want to think about how Fundy dies alone.

Death beckoned him further, this time to watch Niki.

“I’m glad he’s dead.” She said to herself, sitting on the edge of a giant crater. There are no buildings nearby, so Tommy knew it was the nuke crater. “I failed, and someone else did it. I got the ending I wanted. I am glad that he’s dead.”

Tommy doesn’t like how this was the first time he confirmed Niki was trying to kill him. He hadn’t wanted to believe it, but now, he had no choice.

Niki began to cry. “I just want Wilbur back. I never wanted L’manburg, or Pogtopia, or wars, I just wanted my friendships to survive longer than a betrayal. I wanted to live in peace, and I wanted Puffy to love me.”

The hole echoed with her cries, not mourning for the death of Tommy, but for the loss of Wilbur that still controlled her heart. Tommy understood her hurt, but he still hoped that Niki would have regretted his death at least a little.

Death altered the vision again, but it was still Niki. She appeared to be fine, but Tommy knew that it couldn’t be true. He used to think of Niki as his older sister, surely she missed him, as time went on.

“Tommy was the source of all our problems,” Niki explained calmly. To who, he wasn’t sure. “He had it coming. I miss him a little, but it was for the best.”

And damn, if that didn’t hurt.

Niki had been talking to Jack, who spoke next. “But don’t you see? Revenge wouldn’t have helped us. We’d have been hunted down by everyone else anyway, but revenge wasn’t the answer.”

“Not for us,” Niki shrugged, “But for Dream, it was.”

Jack was silent for a while. “You’ve changed, Niki.”

“And is that a bad thing? I spare myself the hurt of relationships this way.”

“It’s not a good thing,” Jack mutters. “I don’t even know you anymore.”

“Did you ever?” Niki asked, walking away.

Death looked like she was mourning something.

“What?” Tommy asked bitterly. “What’s so sad about Niki’s ending?”

“She lives in isolation,” Death said, “And dies that way. There was no one to warn her of the red vines, and there was no one to mourn her passing.”

Tommy couldn’t help but feel a deep pang in his chest when he thought about Niki dying.

Death waved her hands again, and this time, he saw Ranboo.

He was walking slowly, posture curved more than usual.

“He’s got worse posture than I do,” Tommy smiled, pointing.

Death did not laugh, instead just staring. Tommy turned, too.

He watched as Ranboo planted flowers on his stupid dirt house, crying. The hybrid made no movement in acknowledgement of the burns that the tears caused, sniffling as the soil got caked under his claws. His warbles and sobs grew louder, but no one was there to hear them. No one but the two ghosts, invisible to his eyes.

They watched as Ranboo stood up and walked away.

“Just a bit of acceptance,” Tommy tried lamely.

Death sighs, and suddenly he sees Ranboo in the arctic. It’s snowing, but the hybrid is standing in the open, whimpering each time a snowflake melts on his skin. There is a chest in front of him, open, and when Tommy moves, he sees a note attached to it with a single smile. In the chest is one piece of TNT.

“Oh, god-” Ranboo cried. “I caused that. I- I made the lockdown happen-” Ranboo stands up and stumbles back, in shock. Tommy could do nothing but watch as he grew taller and his eyes changed to purple. He’d entered the enderwalk, and Tommy could do nothing.

“What happens to him?” Tommy asked softly, and Death smiles with a hint of sadness.

“He loses himself,” She says, “to the side that he hated.”

Tommy had the feeling that the ending wasn’t finished. “Is there more?”

“He always was one of Life’s most selfless creations,” Death pondered. “He stops himself from harming others, forever.”

Tommy was going to ask how, but his mind flashed with the image of Ranboo, alone in his house, bleeding out on the floor with a blade in his hand. Tommy has the sick feeling that he knows how he died.

Death sends him a knowing look before the scene changes again.

This time, Tommy saw Tubbo.

“Tommy isn’t dead,” Tubbo said as if it’s a fact. “There’s no way that Sam would let that happen- no, there’s no way. Tommy isn’t dead. This is some sick prank.” But, there was no one there to listen. Only the snow as it fell, cutting off the boy from the rest of the world.

“Tubbo’ll be fine,” Tommy said weakly. “He’s always been the stronger of us.”

“But was that simply because you were there to make him feel strong?” Death asked, pointing to the house that Tubbo had been in.

It was older now, much older. Cobwebs grew in the corners as the roof fell into shambles and dust settled. They moved inside and still, Tubbo was there.

“Has he moved?” Tommy asked, horrified.

“Sometimes.” Death said quietly, watching Tubbo as he sat, curled up against the cold. “If someone makes him.”

“And what happens to Tubbo?”

Death looked at Tommy, and he saw his reflection in her eyes. “Well, what would happen if you lost Tubbo?” When Tommy made no move to answer, she did, instead. “He sits, waiting for me or you. When he hears of the death of his husband, he has nothing left to live for, and does not try to keep me at bay.”

Tommy’s soul ached.

Death kept speaking. “He enters my realm, shattered, and it’s too late for you to put together the pieces.”

“Stop showing me these,” Tommy said, tears welling up.

“You need to learn what happens.” She said firmly, and suddenly all Tommy sees is flashes, flashes of Karl Jacobs, the protector of time, though he does not know it.

Karl tries, hundreds of times, to prevent Tommy’s death. It still happens, regardless, no matter what he does, in worse and worse ways. Karl dies in some of them, but it never sticks. Karl tries so hard to fix it, at the expense of himself, and Tommy swears that once, their eyes meet.

Nothing good lasts forever.

Eventually, Karl gave up and succumbed to the fact that there was nothing he could do.

“What happens to him?” Tommy asked, broken.

Death spares Karl a pitying glance. “Without someone to monitor the server, it falls apart. This might be the largest tragedy of all of them- without the warrior of time, the vines fill the server, and everyone dies.”

“Everyone?” Tommy asked, voice quiet.

Death looked him in the eye. There is no escaping that look. “Everyone. They all enter my realm, including Life’s Runner, and the story happens over again. The same show, a different stage. And this time, no one can escape him. Not even my Angel.” She put an arm around Tommy, but he shrugged it off.

“I don’t want to see any more,” Tommy said firmly, but he had no choice in the matter.

He saw Puffy. Puffy was angry, more than he had ever seen before. She’s staring down Dream, and Tommy can sense her fury.

“You killed him, Dream!” She yelled. “How could you?”

“He called me a liar.” Dream shrugged. “He’ll be back.”

Puffy glared at him. “You don’t get it, do you? You are a liar. Every time you’d come home from school and come up to me, all excited, and claim that you loved me, you were lying. Every time you promised that you’d remember all that I’d raised you to hold dear, you were lying. Every time that I looked my little duckling in the eye as you told me that you wouldn’t forget me, you were lying.”

“I do love you, though.”

“No,” Puffy snarled. “You loved me. The only thing you love now is power and chaos- and I know that I didn’t teach you that. I never taught you how to be selfish or how to kill just for the fun of it- I never taught you any of the things that landed you in this cell.”

Dream looked up at her. “You did your best. It’s not your fault that your best wasn’t enough.”

Tommy tried to not let the voice get under his skin. “Just get it over with. What happens to Puffy?”

Death looked almost regretful. “I sympathize with this one. Her ending is the one of a mother, but there is no glory in it, and there is no point. She tried her hardest before the end, but her love was a weakness. She was one of the only adults who had recognized the proper severity of your passing, and though she was rewarded accordingly after her’s...”

Tommy could only watch as the red vines crept as the time passed. Death beckoned Tommy closer to a different scene, and Tommy could see two people. Purpled was one of them, and the other was Puffy.

The vines had grown until there was almost no space.

Puffy shielded Purpled from them. “Run, Purp. You’ll have time to escape if I stay behind.”

“But then you’re going to-”

Puffy interrupted. “It doesn’t matter. Go, or neither of us will make it out alive.”

Death stopped the scene. “It gets rather ugly. I don’t think you should see it.”

Tommy objected. “But what happens?”

“You know.” Death sighed. “The vines encompass the server. Everyone dies. It doesn’t matter that she bought the boy a few more days, the ending is inevitable.”

Tommy hurt all over, but Death still led. “I don’t want to see any more, please,” Tommy begged, but Death has never been the certain type of kind that he calls for. Death does what is necessary, and right now, the visions were.

The next one was Eret, all alone in his castle, as the walls crumbled around them. They sat on their throne, with no one to follow them and no one to care. Tommy knew what Eret was thinking of- how they’d failed everyone and how Tommy had been so young, and maybe, if they hadn’t betrayed L’manburg in the beginning, they’d still all be a family.

Defeated, Tommy asked what Eret’s end was like.

“They died to a creeper that found its way into the castle while they were asleep.” Death said. “No one expected it, but then again, no one expected your’s, either. They are mourned, but not as much as they should have been.”

Death paused, and Tommy swore he saw a tear in her eye before she wiped it away.

The next scene plays, and Tommy sees Phil.

Phil and Techno were sitting at a table, quiet. There’s a paper lying on the table, a letter about Tommy’s passing, but they don’t speak about it. They just sit.

Death spoke softly. “My poor angel, with his clipped wings. His ending is bittersweet, Tommy. He’s lost his wings, his title, his status, but he gets to be reunited with his son. With me.” Death stopped, reconsidered, and fell silent.

“Are we going to watch it? This isn’t really-”

Death turned sharply. “We won’t be watching his. The warrior’s, however? You may want to see.”

Techno stood on a stage, cornered. Vines were creeping and mobs were everywhere. The world was lonely, and he was alone. They shared that. Technoblade, Tommy realized, was broken.

No longer was the fiery fighter with a catchphrase, all that remained was a shell.

Death spoke up. “Technoblade lingers when all others have passed. He never dies, at least, not at first.”

“What do you mean?” Tommy asked, but he was hesitant to.

“There is a reason that the enderman and Technoblade are so similar, I suppose.” Death mused, and she ushered Tommy along.

“How many are left?” He asked, and Death nodded.

“Just one. The worst of all.”

Tommy stared in horror as he watched Dream stand over him- his corpse- and laugh. He stared as the lava parted to show Sam and Puffy, armed and angry, only to stop in shock at what they had been too late to prevent.

“What did you do?” Puffy demanded, but Sam had already crouched down by the body.

His body.

Sam gathered his body in his arms. The blood-stained the green of his fur, but Sam didn’t care. He felt numb, and he looked it.

“I’ll come back for you, Dream.” He said coldly, as he carried the body of his son out of the cell that he’d begged to be let out of not even twenty minutes before.

“It’s fine,” Dream laughed. “I’ll bring him back and all will be fine and dandy. You worry too much, Sam.”

Tommy looked at Death. “I think I know what happens. Don’t make me watch.”

But Death did not care.

So, Tommy stood as Sam waited for the resurrection to work, waited by his grave, waited by the door of the prison. He blamed himself, he lost himself to grief and to shame, and he fell deeper and deeper into a hole that he’d never escape.

Tommy was forced to watch as Sam Nook tore down the entire Big Innit Hotel and stood, waiting for him, until his battery ran out and he died on the side of the Prime Path, a memory of laughter and learning. He watched as Sam couldn’t handle it anymore and let go, exploding landscapes and builds that he’d once cherished, leaving a lingering smell of gunpowder wherever he went. Someone he’d considered a father figure lost himself as Tommy could do nothing but bear witness, until finally, he turned to Death.

“Just tell me how it ends. It’ll be easier than being forced to watch this.”

And, as Death looked at the child that she was so familiar with, she took pity. “Sam never forgave himself. He waited for you, but once it was clear you wouldn’t return, he turned away. He resorted to destruction, and eventually, it destroyed him. Your cries to be let out of the cell never left him. They played on repeat until it drove him mad, and he had to be dealt with.”

“Dealt with?”

“He threatened the safety of the server to such a degree that outside help was brought in.”

Tommy turned away, but not before he saw a flash of pink hair and the glinting of a sword.

Death stood before him. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Are you going to go back, now that you know what happens should you not?”

Tommy sighed. “I haven’t got much of a choice, do I?”

Death offered him a smile as she brought them back to the landscape of rolling hills. Wilbur stood, waiting, but squinted into the distance.

When Tommy turned, he saw another being, hovering over the ground. It was wearing flowing robes of light blue, and had no head. Instead, a globe of white floated above where a neck should have been, and on it was written ‘XD’.

“Who are you?” Tommy shouted at it, as it got closer.

When the being spoke, it sounded like Dream. “I am Life. I made you and everything around you, so you would do well to show some respect. I have come to take you back.”

Death stepped forward. “You may take him, but know that he no longer bears your seal. He is one of mine, now, since you have turned from him. He is under my protection.”

Life scoffed. “As if that matters. His story is written, and he will live it.”

“His story is a script,” Death shrugged, “and scripts can be improvised. I will be watching from the shadows, should your Runner step out of bounds.”

“Then keep your Angel in line,” Life snarled. “I had to keep him from the portal.”

“I saw,” Death smiled calmly. “But that’s what happens when you mess with their coding. Memories still linger.”

Tommy sighed loudly. “Just take me back already. I’m getting bored.”

Life turned to look at Tommy, dead in the eyes, and suddenly, Wilbur’s singing that had been in the background was fading, as were the fields around him. He closed his eyes as a bright light started shining, and then, he opened them.

People surrounded him, and he made it his first priority to fall into Sam’s arms, partially to assure himself that this was real, and partially to assure Sam that he was okay. Everyone got some form of affection, except for Dream. Except for those that hadn’t bothered to show. He’d make amends with the others later, once Dream was back in prison to stay until the ends of time.

He was home, and that was what mattered.

He was home.

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